Amanda
On Sunday morning, against my better judgment, I stood high on the balcony of the Prince of Peace Church, ready to sing because my best friend bribed me with a T-shirt. Sister Bernadette, who knew nothing about the phrase “dick in a glove,” smiled at me, her hands hovering above the keys of the enormous organ, and her dainty feet barely reaching the pedals. When Father Bob entered the church, I gave Sister Bernadette a nod and started to sing.
The music burst out of me in a joyous rush from a place deep inside my soul. Below, the congregants shifted in their seats, trying to see who was singing. Charlotte grinned up at me, pleased at what she’d accomplished. Normally, the entire choir sang at this mass, but Sister Bernadette didn’t think I was ready for that yet. It was just the two of us. A flashback to the old days.
My father, in the front pew, beamed with pride. Although I understood his reaction, he was my dad, after all, I never got why other people seemed to be so affected by the sound of my voice. Even now, Sister Bernadette, who’d heard me sing a million times, had tears running down her cheeks. I didn’t mind it coming from her. She’d known me my whole life, but when strangers got emotional, it made me uncomfortable. And when they stared at me, it made things even worse.
One face stood out in the crowd. Tommy Belfiore turned in his pew and stared right at me. He somehow saw me, even though I was hidden in the shadows. And I stared back at him, riveted.
Tommy’s grandmother, Alvida Fontana, stood next to him, her silver curls as perfectly coiffed as I remembered, and her clothing just as fashionable. She nudged Tommy with her elbow, likely because he wasn’t paying attention to the service. He was too busy sneaking glances up at the balcony.
After mass finished, I knew he’d be waiting for me, so I decided to make a quick escape. I kissed a beaming Sister Bernadette on the cheek and snuck down the back staircase. It was a winding, narrow passageway that few people in the parish even knew about, but unfortunately Tommy did. I should have taken that into account. When I got to the bottom, he was waiting for me, arms folded over his chest.
“You sounded great.”
“Thanks.” I’d hoped to make a hasty exit, but he blocked me by stepping in front of the door, a confused frown on his face.
“Amanda, is something wrong?”
I blinked at him in surprise. “No. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, but I feel like you’re upset with me.”
I clasped my hands behind my back. “I’m not upset.”
“Really?”
“Yes, Tommy. Would I lie in church?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his wool coat as he looked down at me with those greener than green eyes. “I guess not, but I get the impression you’re uncomfortable around me. Are you sure this has nothing to do with what happened the night we graduated?”
I opened my mouth to answer him, but thankfully divine intervention occurred. It came in the form of a little Italian grandmother. I tried very hard to act perfectly calm and composed, but Alvida Fontana missed nothing. Ever. I was doomed.
“Amanda Dragonsong. How nice to see you again.” She gave me a kiss on the cheek, then backed away a few inches, her eyes scanning my face. “You look wonderful. So grown up. And it was lovely to hear you sing again. I thought it was you as soon as you started, and my suspicion was confirmed by Tommy here. He couldn’t stop gawking up at the balcony.”
Tommy blushed. “Nunny—”
“What? I’m being honest here. He didn’t hear a word of the sermon, and it was a good one. Father Bob hit the nail on the head, don’t you think?”
“Yes, he did.” I hadn’t actually heard a word of his sermon either. I’d been staring at Tommy the whole time, but I wasn’t about to admit it to Mrs. Fontana.
I noticed my dad waiting by the door and saw a chance at escape. “I have to go. Nice seeing the two of you.”
“It was nice seeing you, too,” said Mrs. Fontana. “Why don’t you join us at my house today for dinner? Everyone will be there, and I know they’d love to see you.”
I bit my lip, not sure how to respond. “I just got back last weekend, Mrs. Fontana. I should probably spend time with my dad and my sister.”
She patted my hand. “Of course. I understand. You’ve been gone, what? Five years?”
“Five and a half,” corrected Tommy.
She lifted one dark eyebrow. “Five and a half. You can come next week. Tommy will bring you over right after mass. See you then.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but what could I say? I knew Mrs. Fontana well enough to understand that if she decided I was having Sunday dinner with them next week I had no choice in the matter. I would be there. End of story.
She kissed my cheek. “Goodbye, Amanda. I’m so glad you’re home. We both are.” She shot Tommy a long look. “I’ll let you continue your conversation. Meet you at the car, Tommy.”
She walked out the door, her heels clicking on the marble floor, and Tommy ran a hand through his hair. “I guess you’re having dinner with us next Sunday.”
“I guess I am.”
“I’m glad. I’ll have to remember to thank Nunny later.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. Although brief, it made my toes curl. I stared at him, struck dumb by that one tiny kiss, and he grinned. “Bye, Amanda,” he said as he walked backward away from me. “See you soon.”
My dad, who stood next to the exit, watched him leave. “Was that Tommy Belfiore?” he asked. “Such a nice boy. Weren’t you friends in high school?”
“Not really. I have to talk to Father Bob. Would you mind waiting for me?”
“Of course not,” he said. “I’ll grab some Oram’s donuts. They might be out of the cinnamon rolls, but I’m sure I can get you a cream-filled. You always loved the cream-filled ones.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
The fact that he remembered which donuts I liked as a little girl spoke volumes about him. And he was right. The cream-filled ones were my favorite. I’d need a big cream-filled donut after this morning.
Father Bob was tidying the pews when I found him. “Thank you for singing today, Amanda. I truly feel closer to the creator when I hear your voice. You are blessed with such a gift, young lady.”
“Thank you, Father. Do you have a minute?”
“Of course,” he said. “What can I help you with?”
I twisted my fingers together. “I need for you to hear my confession, Father. I just lied in church.”
Thankfully, he agreed to do it. Later, as I munched on a donut with my dad in the bright breakfast nook next to our kitchen, I sighed in contentment. The combination of sugar and confession was good for me. And no matter how awkward the encounters with Tommy had been, it was lovely to be home.
Charlie texted me to apologize. She’d snuck out of church early due to an emergency a few blocks away and promised to stop by later in the day. She arrived just after dinner, her face drawn and tired. Her damp hair was pulled up on top of her head in a messy bun, and she wore sweats and a hoodie.
We went into the living room to chat, and Charlie curled up onto one of the oversized chairs. Eliza had done a fantastic job decorating and the ambiance was both airy and comfortable. I’d brought in some sodas and snacks, so I handed Charlie a drink.
“I have a present for you,” she said, “to thank you for singing in church.”
She handed me a white mug with black letters reading “I like big butts and a can of limes.”
“I love it,” I said.
Charlie grinned at my reaction, but still seemed sad. I didn’t often see her like this.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes, I’m just a little down.” She played with the drawstring of her hoodie. “Do you remember Sally Stein?”
“Sure. She owned Secondhand Sally’s. She helped me find my prom dress.”
Charlie smiled at the memory. “She helped all of us find our prom dresses.”
“What happened?”
She rubbed her forehead. “She was kidnapped a few weeks ago by a couple of lunatics, along with her boyfriend, Ralphie. It was a hate crime.”
“Oh, no.” I put a hand over my mouth. Sally, a former professional football player, identified as female, owned a vintage clothing store, and had been like a trusted aunt to all the kids at St. Alphonse. “It’s she okay?”
“Yes, but someone shot her sister when the poor woman was attempting to save them. She’s alive. Barely.” Charlie’s face hardened. “It was awful. Anthony was pretty broken up about it. That’s one of the reasons he wanted to get drunk on Tuesday. He and Sally were always close.”
“All the Belfiores liked her.”
Charlie gave me an odd look. “Speaking of Belfiores, what’s up with you and Tommy?”
“Nothing.”
I opened a bag of potato chips and began munching on them. What was up with me and Tommy? Why did he keep showing up and kissing me and throwing me off? It was definitely weird. When caught I Charlie staring at me, I frowned at her.
“What?”
“You’re carb loading. You’ve already eaten half of that bag.”
“I am not,” I said, peeking inside. “Oh, no. You’re right. What happened?”
“Don’t feel bad. Those bags are mostly air, anyway.”
“So true,” I said, wiping my greasy mouth with the back of my hand. “Do you know what Eliza calls that? When chip bags are filled with air and not chips?”
“No. What?”
“A chiptease,” I said, making Charlie laugh. “But you’re right. I’m carb loading. What’s wrong with me?”
“It’s something you always do when you’re stressed.” She turned sideways on the chair, letting her feet dangle. “Now tell me what you’re stressed about.”
“I’m not stressed. Well, not really,” I said, munching away. “I mean, Celeste is driving me nuts, but that’s not unusual. And I’m adjusting to being home. And Tommy keeps popping up everywhere, and now his grandmother is involved, and it looks like I’ll be joining all of them for dinner on Sunday right after twelve o’clock mass.”
The words came out in a rush. Charlie grabbed the bag of chips from me, closed it, and put it on the coffee table. “So, this has nothing at all to do with what happened the night of commencement five years ago?”
“Five and a half,” I said with a scowl. “What do you mean?
“You have unfinished business. That was the night you—”
I held up a hand to stop her. “Ancient history.”
She turned and planted her feet back on the floor. “He hurt you.”
“I’m over it.”
I grabbed the bag and started munching again. Charlie sent me a sympathetic look. “What if he isn’t over you?”
“Ha. Funny.” When she didn’t laugh, I continued. “Why would someone like Tommy Belfiore ever waste his time on someone like me?”
I’d been fooling myself. I hadn’t gotten over him at all. And my best friend Charlie knew it. Which may have been why she looked pissed off at the moment.
“Stop it.”
I cringed. “You’re right. I should stop feeling sorry for myself. I’m pathetic. Beyond pathetic. I’m like terminally pathetic.”
She groaned and lifted her face skyward, as if praying for patience. Charlie did that a lot. “That’s not what I meant. You need to stop selling yourself short, Amanda Dragonsong. You’re beautiful and kind and smart and amazingly talented. You’re also the funniest person I know, and the most loyal friend I’ve ever had.”
I put a hand over my heart and gave her a fake smile. “Are you asking me out, Charlie?”
She tossed a pillow at my head. “No, I’m not. You don’t roll that way, and, anyway, I’m already seeing someone, dummy.”
“Who?”
“Her name is Brenda, and she’s a nurse. We’ve been dating for about six months now, since I broke up with Max. Stop trying to change the subject. This is about you, not me. Why wouldn’t Tommy want to date you?”
I indicated my appearance with one hand. “Look at me. He’s all GQ model gorgeous and I’m Eliza Dragonsong’s frumpy little sister.”
“You’re kidding me, right?” She let out a growl, and I thought she might throw a pillow at my head again. “You’re adorable.”
I pulled the sleeves of my shirt down over my hands. “I know I’m not a mutant or anything, but Eliza is the pretty one. Not me.” Instead of a pillow, she yanked off her sock and tossed it at my head. I caught it and threw it back at her. “Why do you keep throwing things at me?”
“Because I’m trying to knock some sense into you. Your biggest problem isn’t you, it’s how you see yourself.”
“I know, I know. And it’s because of my mother, right?”
“Yes. I hate to say this, but she is inside your head, telling you that you aren’t good enough or pretty enough or smart enough.” Charlie’s voice cracked with emotion, surprising me. “You are enough, Amanda. You’re more than enough. You’re an exceptional human.”
“You’re an exceptional human, too.”
“Which is why we’re friends,” she said, very practically. “And as your friend, I need to be straight with you. Your mother is wrong. About everything.”
“Since you’re my new therapist, what do you suggest I do about it?”
She tilted her head, her expression serious. “I suggest you start living your own life.”
“How?” I asked, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“You’ve been following Celeste’s plan since the day you were born. It’s time to make your own plan now, my friend. You deserve it.”
After she left, I thought about Charlie’s words. Could she be right? Was it that simple?
I checked my phone. Solomon seemed to have slowed down his attack, but my mother soldiered on. She’d sent me a barrage of texts, and my missed calls now numbered in the hundreds. This wasn’t normal. She wasn’t normal. But I could be normal.
I deleted her messages one by one, without reading any of them, and blocked her as a contact. It would make her furious, but, oddly enough, I didn’t care. Then I waited for my sister to come home. I was ready to make some changes, and I needed her help.