Treacherous

The sound of knocking on her front door wakes Angela up. Clearly someone is here to murder her. There’s no other explanation. It’s the only logical reason someone would be banging that aggressively on her door so early in the morning. It had better be that or some kind of emergency, because she’s pissed about being disturbed.

She doesn’t bother checking the time, or herself in the mirror. Instead, she throws a sweatshirt over her pyjamas, not bothering to reach for her glasses or smooth out her hair.

Spork yaps quietly from the kitchen, concerned by the noise. 

'It's okay,' she calls to Spork. Even though she's annoyed, she tries her best to sound comforting for him. 

The door sounds again, just as loudly, though less aggressively.

‘Shutup,’ she yells as she enters the hallway, close enough that the person outside will hear. 

They knock once more.

‘I swear to god.’

She’s livid as she opens the door. 

‘Jeeze if I’d known you’d be in a terrible mood I wouldn’t have bothered driving over here.’

Amanda is leaning cooly against the wall, a brown takeout bag in her hand. She raises her eyebrows and gives a smile through faux-gritted teeth.

‘Unfortunately, I stopped to get breakfast on the way and I can’t eat all of this alone, so I guess I have to stay.’

Angela’s mood softens immediately at the sight of her best friend. She barely has time to move out of the way before Amanda invites herself inside. Still half asleep, she can’t ignore the way their bodies connect as the taller woman pushes past, hand brushing casually against her arm. Angela suppresses a shiver: she’s not cold, but in case Amanda’s watching, she pulls the sleeves of her sweater down over her hands and wraps her arms around her.

Amanda has already placed the paper bag on the countertop and is busy opening cupboards, searching for plates. She’s been to this apartment a handful of times, and Angela is usually a gracious host, but the unexpectedness of her best friend appearing at her apartment combined with barely being awake means she’s content to let Amanda find whatever she needs.

‘You weren’t sure you’d make it over today,’ Angela observes. Her voice is quiet, and a little husky. ‘When I asked yesterday, I mean.’

‘I said I needed to check my plans,’ Amanda corrects her. ‘I text you like five times this morning, you didn’t respond.’

Amanda looks intently at Angela, then returns her focus to setting the countertop for breakfast.

Angela suddenly feels self conscious of her oversized sweatshirt and pyjama pants. She toys with the hem of the sweater, trying to pull it down further. If she’d known Amanda was coming, she would’ve at least brushed her hair. She runs a hand through it, trying to tame it. It stays sticking up.

‘I was asleep,’ she replies, eventually.

‘It’s 11am, it’s not good for you to sleep this late,’ Amanda lectures. 'Did you even feed Spork yet?' 

Amanda leans down, petting the dog. He'd made his way across the kitchen in search of the source of the food scent. 

‘Of course I fed him. But I had a late shoot, you know that.’ She feels awkward: like a kid, somehow in trouble in her own home.

‘So I figured you’d want breakfast. And I’m not letting you waste the entire day.’

Amanda doesn’t seem to notice Angela’s appearance or her awkwardness. If she does, she doesn’t care. She smiles at her, then concentrates on taking two juice glasses out of the cupboard. The domesticity of it makes Angela’s heart soar: she bathes in the feeling for a moment, allowing herself to imagine this as their life together.

‘You good?’ Amanda smiles again, locking eyes with her.

‘Yeah.’ Angela lets out a breath. ‘So, what did you bring?’ 

‘A surprise,’ Amanda replies, walking to the refrigerator with two glasses in hand. ‘Do you have juice?’

‘Mhmm. You didn’t get coffee?’ Angela whines.

Amanda rolls her eyes.

‘It’s in the bag, idiot, don’t ruin your surprise.’

‘Have I told you that I love you?’ Angela is a little stunned by how easily the words trip out, but Amanda takes it as a simple compliment.

‘I know, I’m awesome,’ she teases.

Amanda fills the glasses with orange juice, then sets them down on the counter. Out of the paper bag she produces two white boxes and two cups of coffee. She places a box on each plate, and a coffee cup next to each glass of juice, then hops up on one of the bar stools.

‘Breakfast is served.’

She waves her hands over the counter, making a show of her efforts, then pats the seat next to her, beckoning Angela over. She complies, jumping onto the unoccupied stool.

‘Now do I get to know what you brought?’ Angela asks, poking the box on her plate.

‘Look inside,’ Amanda prompts, staring at her expectantly.

Angela opens the box on her plate, revealing a stack of fresh pancakes. She’s never been the kind of person who can easily control their emotions, especially when she’s excited. Her mouth falls wide open as she lets out a cry of happiness. She slams her hands onto the table, looking over at Amanda.

‘You are the most incredible person in the universe,’ she says with total sincerity. ‘I. Love. You.’

This time, she lets the feeling of her words wash over her. It’s true: she loves Amanda, especially now, in this moment, when she knows her friend loves her too. Even if that love isn’t quite the same.

Amanda places her hand on top of Angela’s, squeezing it affectionately.

‘I know, I really am incredible,’ she jokes, ‘but shut up and eat before it gets cold.’

‘So, what do you wanna do today? Amanda asks, standing up from the counter, to lean over and clear Angela’s plate.

‘Sleep,’ Angela responds. She holds her hand up to her mouth, trying to hide her yawn.

‘Not an option,’ Amanda dismisses her as she loads the dishwasher. ‘We’re doing something fun together.’

‘Okay, you let me sleep on you.’

‘Trying to get me into bed?’ Amanda turns to look at her friend, raising an eyebrow as she speaks. ‘At least buy me dinner first,’ she teases.

Angela feels her face redden, and she’s pleased when Amanda turns back around.

‘Not what I meant.' Angela sighs. 'What do you wanna do?’

‘Date day,’ Amanda finishes loading the dishwasher, then leans against the counter, smiling at Angela. ‘You need to relax.’

'I am relaxed.'

'No you are not, honey.' Amanda laughs. 'I'm going to help you relax.'

‘And how are you going to do that?’

To an outsider their tone could be construed as flirting, but Angela knows Amanda doesn’t mean it in that way.

‘First you’re taking a shower and getting out of your pyjamas,’ Amanda demands.

Angela rolls her eyes; Amanda catches it this time.

‘Hey, I saw that,’ she says through laughter. ‘Go shower while I finish clearing up.’

‘I can clear up,’ Angela begins to protest, then she catches her friend’s eye. ‘Fine, give me ten minutes.’

‘Take all the time you need, hon.’

‘I thought you didn’t want me to waste the day?’ Angela mocks, forming her hands into air quotes as she talks.

‘You’re an idiot,’ Amanda says. It’s her turn to roll her eyes now. ‘Fuck off and get dressed. Date day, remember? Go!’

Angela relents.

She showers quickly, drying herself off even faster. When she leaves the bathroom, she’s glad to see the kitchen door is closed: it avoids the awkwardness of running through the hallway in just a towel. There's no chance of Amanda spotting her. Even so, she practically sprints into her bedroom, panicked at the idea of being seen.

If Amanda has already planned where they’re going she’s not given any indication of it, and Angela isn’t sure how to dress. She opts for comfort, tugging on jeans over her barely dry legs, and throwing a collared sweatshirt on over her sports bra. As she leaves the room she grabs her glasses from her dresser: she knows Amanda will complain if she forgets them.

Amanda is sitting at the countertop. With one hand she's casually scrolling through her phone; in the other, she's cradling Spork. Angela's heart melts as she watches her friend plant a kiss on the top of her dog's head.

‘Miss me?’ Angela calls, entering the kitchen.

The room is spotless: probably cleaner than it was before Amanda arrived. Obviously, she's been busy in the few minutes Angela has been away. Amanda jumps down from her seat as Angela walks toward her.

‘It was nice to have some peace and quiet, actually. Besides, I think your dog prefers me, now,' she jokes, setting Spork down on the ground.

‘Hey,’ Angela starts to protest, but she’s interrupted.

‘No time to argue. Are you ready to leave?’

Angela doesn’t even open her mouth to complain, she just follows as Amanda leads her out of the apartment and into her car.

'Get in,' Amanda demands.

They're standing in the parking lot of an IKEA. Amanda drove, and Angela had been too busy watching her friend on the ride over to pay attention to their destination. As soon as they arrived, Amanda dragged her to the shopping carts. Now, she's standing over her, insisting Angela gets inside one.

‘Ange, get in the cart,' Amanda repeats.

Angela's not sure whether she's being serious. She has a mischievous grin, and if that's anything to go off, Angela is certain she'll end up in the shopping cart one way or another. Still, she feigns confusion.

‘What?’

‘Come on, it'll be fun!’ Amanda places a hand on Angela’s arm, guiding her closer to the shopping cart. 

‘No, no way,' she protests through laughter.

‘I can throw you in if you're not going to go willingly.’ Amanda crosses her arms and pouts her lips like a child who's not getting their way. 

‘Fine,’ Angela relents, still giggling as she tries to climb into the cart.

It’s too high, and Angela doesn't complain when Amanda has to help her up. She laughs loudly, balancing between her friend's knee and the cart, which keeps threatening to roll away. After a minute, she ends up bundled in a heap at the bottom of the cart. 

'This is ridiculous,' she whines. 

'I know,' Amanda remarks as they enter the store. 'And you let me win soeasily.' 

Angela doesn't bother replying; there's no world in which she wouldn't let Amanda get her way, but there's no reason to let her know that.

She's too busy adjusting her position to notice as Amanda pushes the cart away from her. She lets out a yelp, reaching for her friend as she rolls away uncontrollably. Amanda laughs loudly, then jogs towards her, bracing the cart cooly with one arm.

‘Do not do that again,’ Angela feels giddy, and she swats playfully at Amanda’s arm. ‘I’m serious, that was scary!’

Amanda leans her arms on the cart handle, placing her chin in her hands.

‘Honey, I will always catch you,' she says. 'I promise.' 

There's a tenderness in her eyes that's impossible to ignore. If Angela had been standing, she's sure her knees would've buckled beneath her, so she's glad to be pretzeled on the floor of a shopping cart.

The sentimentality is broken when Amanda takes a hard left, moving towards the houseplants. 

'Hello?' Angela yelps, falling into the wall of the cart. 'Turn signals, please?' 

'Sorry, hard left.' 

'Too little, too late,' she complains, rubbing her elbow. 

The plants look different from this level, and aside from Amanda's terrible directions, it's peaceful being pushed around. Angela's able to take things in from a new angle, although the beauty of the flora doesn't compare to Amanda. Angela steals a glance at her for just a moment.

Amanda catches her gaze. 

'See something you like?' 

Angela hiccoughs. 

'Sorry?' 

'Any plants?' Amanda emphasises. 'I brought you on a date day; we're here to furnish our imaginary home together.' 

Angela gives her a confused look, trying to force the hammering of her heart to dissipate. 

'Pick a plant, Ange, I'll buy it for you. Your apartment needs something green.' 

'It feels like you're insulting me, but I'm not sure how.' 

'Let me bring some life into your apartment.' 

'I literally have a dog: you want me to keep a plant alive, too?' 

'I'm sure you'll cope.' Amanda turns around, observing their surroundings. 'How about this?'

She points to a dark green plant with a single stark white flower. It's beautiful, but it looks like something Angela would accidentally kill immediately. She shakes her head no. 

Amanda's eyes travel to a huge monstera. She moves towards it, trying to lift it. It's clearly too heavy for her to pick up by herself. 

'Absolutely not,' Angela says, as though reading her mind. 'It's massive, and I'd love to still be able to move around my tiny apartment.' 

'Fine,' Amanda concedes. She turns to a slightly smaller plant with long, light green spines. 'How about this: an aloe? It has healing properties. Maybe it'll heal your loneliness,' she jokes.

'Maybe it'll heal you from being a bitch,' Angela quips back without thinking. She smacks her hand over her mouth immediately, realising what she said. Her eyes are wide, in shock at herself. 'Oh my god, that was so mean-' 

'You're a bitch,' Amanda interrupts, then lets out a roar of laughter, her mouth falling open in amusement. 'Come on idiot, I'll get you this. But you have to get out the cart, I don't think you'll both fit.' 

'Fine, but you're gonna have to help me out.' 

'Oh, absolutely not. It's much funnier to watch.'

After observing Angela struggling to get out of the cart for a full minute, Amanda eventually helps. She holds it steady, reaching out her arm to make sure Angela returns safely to the ground. Angela holds onto her friend happily, maintaining her grasp for as long as she can. 

For a while, they meander through the displays. Angela insists they try all of the couches. She performs the same gag at each one, banging the remote against her hand, then complaining that the TV isn't working. Amanda laughs louder every time. The sound is infectious: Angela never wants it to stop. 

They do the same in the fake kitchens: Amanda plays at serving dinner, while Angela complains there's no water in the taps. 

By the time they wander into the bedroom section, Amanda is apparently exhausted. She flops down immediately on the nearest display bed.

'Are you that tired?' Angela asks.

'Yes, you're a nightmare to be around. I need a rest,' she jokes. 'It's comfy, come lay with me.' 

'I'm good.' Angela pushes and pulls the cart aimlessly a couple of times, scuffing the toes of her shoes against the ground. 

‘Come here, don’t be a baby.’ Amanda pats the space next to her, inviting Angela to join her.

‘No, you look crazy,’ she replies.

‘We won’t get in trouble,’ Amanda laughs, holding her hand out to coax Angela over to the bed.

Angela isn’t worried about getting kicked out of the store. If anything, that would be a hilarious story for them to recount at work. She’s scared of letting herself lay next to Amanda. Of being able to envision the reality she longs for in secret. In short: she’s terrified of her own imagination.

Amanda’s hand is still raised, beckoning her over to the bed.

‘Ange,’ she calls, ‘c’mon.’

Angela feels her barriers crumble. She can’t say no: not to Amanda.

‘Fine.’ Even though Amanda won’t see, she rolls her eyes as she takes her friend’s hand.

They’ve held hands before, so it’s not a new sensation. She doesn’t allow herself to spend too long considering the way their fingers slot perfectly together. Or how Amanda’s thumb grazes absentmindedly across her skin, making her shiver. She doesn’t think: she just lets Amanda guide her onto the bed, laying down next to her.

Angela lays on her back, her eyes studying the ceiling carefully. Her hand is still entwined with Amanda’s. She’s not going to be the first to let go.

She feels Amanda tugging at her, encouraging her to lay on her side. As always, she follows her friend’s lead, rolling over to face her.

‘Hi honey,’ Amanda smiles at her.

Not for the first time, the rest of the world fades away.

‘Hi, ‘Manda,’ Angela greets her back. There’s a sadness in the pit of her stomach, which she tries to ignore. She smiles, hoping it reaches her eyes.

Amanda’s smile is genuine, definitely reaching her eyes. Angela allows herself a moment to get lost in her gaze.

In another universe they wouldn’t be in a store. This wouldn’t all be fake. They’d be at home, waking up in bed together.

Angela squeezes her eyes shut, desperate to imagine it properly.

The bed shifts slightly, and she pictures Amanda rolling over next to her, pressing a good morning kiss on her lips. Her breath catches in her throat at the thought, and she rolls onto her back again. In sheer panic, she lets go of her friend’s hand.

She can feel Amanda moving next to her, her weight bearing closer until Angela is almost certain that her friend is learning over her. If she closes her eyes even tighter, maybe there’s a chance she’ll wake up in the alternate universe where all of this is real.

In this universe, Amanda places a hand on her shoulder. It’s firm, but still tender somehow. Amanda’s thumb brushes close to her collarbone. It’s accidental, of course, but Angela has to try hard to steady her breathing, which is almost impossible.

She feels her friend’s breath, warm on her cheek: their faces must be close. In fact, Amanda’s mouth is by her ear, she can hear her breathing. It’s steady; controlled.

Angela’s lips part instinctively, taking in a sharp breath, as though she’s preparing to be kissed. It’s pathetic.

‘People are staring,’ Amanda whispers, still close enough that only Angela can hear her.

‘Let them,’ she breathes back.

Angela allows herself to bask in her daydream a moment more before it’s broken by Amanda’s laughter. The sound reverberates in Angela’s mind, launching her back into reality.

She feels her best friend’s lips press delicately against her cheek before Amanda’s weight shifts again. This time Amanda places a hand on each of Angela’s shoulders, pulling her into a sitting position.

Angela reluctantly allows her eyes to fall open.

‘Get up idiot,’ Amanda is grinning at her, laughter lines crinkling at the corners of her eyes. ‘This store is huge, we have so much more to explore!’ She jumps off the bed, extending her hand to Angela, who takes it willingly.

Amanda pulls her off the bed, leading her to the next section of the store.

In this universe, Angela knows she’ll settle for following Amanda wherever she goes.

Where Amanda wants to go is apparently the bathroom section. After much negotiation, she finally agrees to let Angela push the cart. Angela, despite vowing not to, immediately takes off at a pace, jumping into the air to ride the cart down the aisle. She narrowly avoids crashing into a display. 

When she turns around, Amanda isn't behind her. She's distracted, moving gracefully between various bathroom accessories.

‘These are cute,’ Amanda points to some bath towels as Angela approaches her. ‘I think we need these!’

‘All the things you could buy for our imaginary home and you choose bath towels,’ Angela teases.

‘No, our imaginary home will be full of fun things,’ Amanda shakes her head, laughing slightly. ‘I actually need these. Can you pass my phone, I need to check these are okay for us.’

Us.

The words are soft, but they pierce Angela’s skin all the same.

Amanda's bag is in the cart, and Angela roots through it, passing her the phone in silence. Lost in the banal joy of married life, Amanda doesn’t notice her discomfort.

It's stupid: Angela knew none of this was real. She’s not delusional; she knows they’ve just been playing make believe all day, but the reminder of Amanda’s real life shatters the game entirely.

She watches her friend’s face light up as she messages her husband. Amanda’s mouth forms into a coy smile; her nose scrunching up. It would be an adorable display of domesticity if it wasn’t so painful to see. 

After a few moments, Amanda picks up the towels, placing them in the cart. 

'Perfect,' she says. 'Where to next?' 

'Do you mind if we check out soon?' Angela feels nauseous suddenly. She wants the comfort of home.

'Hey,' Amanda's voice is laced with worry. 'Are you okay?' 

'Yeah. I'm just tired,' she says. 'And I have to take Spork out for a walk,' she adds, desperate to remedy the concern in Amanda's eyes. 

'Sure,' Amanda sighs, seemingly satisfied with the response. 'Let's get you home.' 

Angela lets herself remain in the game they've been playing, pretending that the "home" is theirs to share. She takes Amanda's hand, elated when her friend squeezes tightly, rather than letting go.

For just a moment, Angela allows herself to be delusional.