“Should we?” Emilia asked. She bit her lip and looked down at the pizza box in her hand and then up at the fireplace.
“It’s your house, you can do whatever you like,” Amber said.
Emilia technically knew that was true, but she’d never eaten dinner in front of the fire before. She’d never eaten dinner from a box rather than a plate. It was like breaking multiple unwritten rules all at once.
The very thought of sitting at the brightly lit dining table and having to get out plates and cutlery was just too much. When Amber had casually suggested eating in front of the fire, it was like Emilia’s world had been tilted. Again. But this time it was a good tilt, this time it was in the name of comfort. And what she really needed right now was comfort.
“Okay!” she decided. She handed her pizza box to Amber. “I’ll be right back. Please, start eating.”
She rushed away, eager to get out of her clothes and into something more comfortable. In particular, she wanted to get into her comfortable woollen socks that her grandmother had made for her mother years ago. They were a slice of home that always made her feel better no matter what the day had brought her.
It only took her a couple of minutes to throw her clothes on the bedroom floor and dress herself in comfortable jeans, a baggy sweater, and her favourite woollen socks. She bounded down the stairs again and into the living room.
Amber had pushed the coffee table to one side and was sitting on the rug with two pizza boxes and two cans of soda beside her. Emilia quickly joined her, pulling a thin blanket over her shoulders, more for comfort than to keep out any chill.
“Nice socks,” Amber said with a smirk.
“They were my mother’s,” Emilia replied. “Made by my grandmother.”
“I can tell.” Amber laughed and passed her pizza box over to her.
“There’s nothing wrong with these socks,” Emilia defended through a smile.
“Whatever you say. They just appear to be a little more hole than sock.”
“They are just perfect, thank you very much.” Emilia took a large bite of pizza while smiling at Amber.
It felt good to eat. And so good to be home. She still felt shaken up by everything that had happened, but she knew she was now fully on the road to recovery.
That said, the whole drama had made her consider that maybe she wasn’t supposed to have friends. Things had been going so well with Amber, but then she had ruined it by being… her.
What kind of person can’t even go to a mall? she asked herself. And who faints in public just because it’s too busy and noisy?
Her pulse started to race again. She took a deep breath before eating another bite of pizza. She stared at the flames flickering in the fireplace. Being home felt good, but it also felt like a failure. Like she’d had to retreat. Yes, home was safe, but that didn’t mean she had to like it right now.
“You’re angry-thinking,” Amber whispered.
“I’m not,” Emilia denied.
“You are. Your face is all scrunched up. And you’re rage-eating.”
“Angry-thinking and rage-eating are not things.”
“They are, you’re doing them both.” Amber playfully elbowed her.
She stopped eating and lowered the slice of pizza into the box. “Fine. I’m angry at myself.”
“I know. It will die down,” Amber reassured her.
“You’re not going to tell me to not worry?”
“Would you listen?”
Emilia considered that for a few seconds. “No. I’d carry on being angry.”
“There you go then. You’re angry, it will die down.” Amber opened up a can of soda and took a long sip straight from the can.
Emilia wondered how Amber could know her so well after so little time together. It seemed amazing that Amber knew exactly what to do and what to say, while she was ruining everything.
A new theory asserted itself in her mind. Maybe Amber was capable of making friends with Emilia, but Emilia was incapable of returning the favour.
Could there be a possibility that her isolation and solitary ways weren’t the reasons for her lack of friends? Maybe she was just no good at it.
Suddenly, she felt a desperate longing to see Hugo. Her closest friend, the one who understood everything about her. Dear, sweet Hugo, who was always there for her and never wavered. She never pushed him away with her foolish behaviour.
She decided to use the phone he had given her to text him and invite him to dinner. Then she could prove to Hugo that she could make new friends. And prove to Amber that she had a friend, because surely Amber must have had her doubts by now?
He would also be able to help on the conversation front, which she was clearly lacking on. When Amber was quiet, they were both quiet.
The whole idea of her being able to make friends now seemed utterly ridiculous. She couldn’t believe that she had thought she could do it.
“So, tell me about these winter markets?” Amber asked.
Emilia blinked a couple of times. She realised that she had become lost in her own thoughts. She was so consumed with assuming that she was unable to make conversation that she had remained silent until Amber took up the mantle.
“They are wooden buildings, selling different things. Food… gifts.” She paused. “It’s outside, though, so it will be cold.”
She didn’t want Amber to freeze like she had the day before, even if she did want to show her the markets. It was one of the few shopping experiences she actually enjoyed, being outside in the fresh air and having the option to walk to the side and leave the crowds at any point. And she only attended in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, when she knew it would be quiet.
“I’ll remember to wrap up warm,” Amber said.
Emilia knew it was an olive branch, and she was grateful for it.
“You can borrow some scarves, I have lots of them. They were knitted by my grandmother and my mother.”
“Ah, full of holes then?” Amber joked.
“No,” Emilia lightly admonished her. “They will keep you nice and warm. But if you get cold, then you must tell me immediately and we will go home.”
“Agreed. And if you feel in the slightest bit overwhelmed, you must tell me.”
Emilia nodded her agreement.
Amber nodded towards the bookcase. “Will you read with me again tonight? I felt like I was getting the hang of this Swedish business last night.”
Emilia chuckled. Amber’s pronunciation was terrible, but her accent was adorable. Emilia would never admit to making Amber repeat the same few words over and over again because it sounded so cute.
“Sure, maybe you can read a whole one to me?” Emilia suggested.
“Haven’t you suffered enough?” Amber laughed.
“Reading with you isn’t punishment,” Emilia said seriously. “I enjoy it a lot.”
“Me too,” Amber admitted in a soft whisper.
The atmosphere in the room had changed. Emilia didn’t know when or why, but she knew it had. And she didn’t dislike it.