Amanda pulled her robe tighter against her thin frame as she crossed her apartment, worried and more than a little annoyed to be called on so late when she had work in the morning. It was one of the few nights in her packed month where no designer was hosting a party to celebrate the release of a new line, no hot new club was opening and there was no new crisis to deal with at work.
So much for her hopes of a full night's sleep!
Flicking on the living room light, she went to the door to check who was there through the peephole. Marc was on the other side, looking very worse for wear and not at all his usual "sparkly" self. Amanda rolled her eyes for recalling Betty's description of her friend.
Since when am I using Betty's words? I have got to stop talking to her, she's rubbing off on me! God, I hope her dress sense isn't contagious...
Amanda unlocked her door and stepped aside to let Marc stagger his way into her apartment. "Marc, what happened to you?" She asked as he sat down on her sofa. It was very late, the man looked as if he'd been trudging up and down the streets for hours.
He shook his head. "It's over. She finally knows."
Amanda closed the door behind him and went to sit by his side. "Your mother?"
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and sighed, nodding.
"How did she find out? Did Betty tell her? I swear, if that chubby little-"
"It was me, I told her." Marc quietly interrupted.
"You?"
"Yes. It was just something she said, some stupid comment about Betty's nephew. I don't know. I just wanted to stop pretending." He said, leaning forward to rest his elbows over his knees.
Amanda moved closer, compelled to comfort her friend. "You feel better now, though, don't you? The truth is out, no more lying."
"I don't know when she'll want to see me again. If ever. I can't pretend anymore, but we are still family."
She reached out and put a hand over his shoulder. "Family wouldn't reject you just for trying to be yourself, Marc, you know that. If she wants to turn you away for this, then let her. Who needs a mother like her anyway? We're more of a family than what you knew back home, and you're happier here. No need for the beard, at least. You can be who you are."
Marc looked at her and smiled for the first time that night. "Maybe you're right."
Amanda rolled her eyes good-naturedly and tossed her hair. "Of course I'm right. You can sleep here tonight, and tomorrow we'll go to work, make fun of Betty, be snotty to the underlings, and flirt with all the hotties. And when we're done at the office, I have an invitation to that Tom Ford party- you'll be my plus one, won't you?"
Marc smiled again and hugged her, revelling for a moment in her light scent. He knew then, just how lucky he was to have a friend like her. "Amanda, you're the only girl for me."