Curved Edges ✔

(5) Amalthea's Angel

♡AMALTHEA

Mona helps me into her car without saying a word. She knows me well. I don't do well with things that mess up my daily routine and I never call for help. Ever. 

So on the rare occasion that I do, she drops everything and comes running and I would do the same for her.

We're both strong, curvy, independent women, who can totally take care of themselves. Most of the time. Today is just not one of those days.

She parks right in front of the entrance of the apartment complex and demands I stay put. And when she demands, I listen. She runs over to the doorman and exchanges a few words with him. 

Mike walks up to the car and opens my door. He smiles at me and says: "Come on Miss Sendringham, I'll help you." 

He holds his arm out to me and I grab hold of it to get out of the car.

♡

Half an hour later I'm sitting on my couch with my sore ankle propped up on the coffee table. Mike has bandaged it up and says that as long as it's still swollen, there's no telling what is going on in there. And I refused to go to the hospital with it, so I'm trusting his judgment for now. 

He tells me to stay off it for the next couple of days and to let him know if I need anything, his fingers mess up my hair before he walks out of the door.

I have a special relationship with that man. It all started when my dad gave me this apartment for my eighteenth birthday and I fell apart. I believe my dad meant well. He knew I was very responsible and independent. 

But it felt like I was kicked out of the only place I ever knew as my home. My mom wasn't even there. In her eyes, the apartment was so generous and I would be so grateful that she didn't have to skip sherry-time with the other well-established ladies she calls friends, just to air-kiss me.

Besides I was eighteen now. An adult. She had done her job. Dad had to fly to Germany for business that night and dropped me off in front of the building with a small suitcase full of clothes and a shopping bag full of picture frames. 

He told me to ask for Mike and drove off. I know he meant well, I know he loves me, I know he was already in Germany in his head. But it hurt so much that I fell to my knees on the steps to the entrance.

Mike picked me up, helped me into the elevator, and showed me around my apartment. 

I cried when I saw all the furniture. My dad had been nagging me about creating a Pinterest board with furniture and decorative items I liked and everything was there. The big, soft, brown couch I liked, the white kitchen with the little bar and aqua-colored splashback. Even the quirky posters and funky clock. 

I felt loved for a second.

Just a second though. 

The tears started up again fast and Mike made me some tea, asking me if there was a friend I could call. I called Mona in tears and she came right over. 

I thanked Mike that day and it certainly wasn't the last time I did that. He has seen it all, the drunken-puking-on-the-stairs-out-front me, the half-naked-ran-away-from-a-weirdo me but also the flawless-business-woman me. He's seen it all, helped me through it all, and never judged me for any of it. 

Bless that man with all that is good.

I throw my head back, close my eyes, and sigh loudly. I can sense Mona moving closer on the couch and I know she wants me to talk. I need to talk to her but I don't want to. It was all so... I don't even know what it was and my stupid ankle is throbbing like crazy.