Chapter 1 - Fine On My Own
Amy is certain she might soon die from all the coffee she consumes. Deadlines require long hours in the studio, which then require unhealthy amounts of caffeine.
She had technically lived in Los Angeles for three years, but the constant travel for her job made those three years fly by. At the age of 25, she got a job with Jacques de Pardieu, a famous French documentarian. After six months in eastern Africa, four months in southweast Asia, five months in Australia, and six months in Ecuador, she had not truly spent enough time in Los Angeles to call it her home. Even when she was not filming abroad, her time was split between being in a studio editing and traveling for release parties.
But that had changed. She had the opportunity to go from production assistant to assistant editor. Which would put her a step away from assistant director and closer to being a director. The trade-off was leaving the world of documentaries for feature, commercial movies.
"I'd be selling my soul," Amy told her mentor, Jacques, who simply laughed.
"At least you would be selling it to someone who can pay," he replied. His production company was going bankrupt, forcing him to let go of his crew. "You have talent. Impress some people and prove yourself. Then make your way back to what you love. By then, you'll be the one in charge."
So here she was in the studio, at 3 a.m., editing a rom-com she would typically hate-watch. Her last dose of coffee was around midnight, and its effects were wearing off. Fearing an impending heart attack, she decided to call it a night and head home.
There was a certain beauty to LA late at night. The quietness of the streets, usually bursting with tourists and artists trying to make money off said tourists. She had been lucky to find a small apartment within a short drive of the studio, but in nights like this she didn't mind strolling around the city.
As approaches the door to her apartment, the sounds inside bring a smile to her face. She could use some company tonight.
"Hey, Rea-Rea," Amy says with a smile as she closes the door behind her and Reagan rolls her eyes. Amy ruffles her hair before plopping down on the couch and looking up at her.
"You know I hate when you call me that," she says one eyebrow raised. Amy just laughs.
"Which is why I call you that," she says, a smirk on her face. She looks at the TV, an episode of Friends was on.
"Late night at the studio?" Reagan asks, offering Amy some popcorn.
"Gotta prove myself, right?" She shrugs, grabbing a handful of popcorn and filling her mouth with the salty and buttery goodness.
"There are donuts in the kitchen," Reagan says, looking at the Amy, who gives her a suspicious look. "They're not the vegan, gluten-free ones. I found a mom-and-pop shop-" she stopped and laughed, as Amy sprung up and rushed to the kitchen.
"Thank you, donut Goddess" Amy says, looking down at the various assortment of baked goodness.
"Any time, shrimp girl," Reagan says with a chuckle. "Your mom's care package arrived, by the way." Amy looks at the box sitting on the counter and smiles. Ever since she moved out three years ago, Farrah made sure to send monthly care packages that included Amy's favorite snacks from her hometown and other things that reminded Farrah of her daughter.
With the half eaten donut in hand, Amy sifted through the usual beef jerky and barbecue sauces until she found an open envelope. Pulling the card from inside, she felt her heart pound a bit harder.
"What is it?" Reagan asked, looking up at the other girl who stood oddly quiet and frozen at the kitchen.
"It's an invitation to my high school ten-year reunion," Amy says, quietly. She carries the card to the couch and sits by Reagan.
"Are you going?" Reagan asks, which in response Amy shows her the post-it note her mother had attached to the card.
"Dear Amy. You are going to this reunion. May I remind you, your sister was the class president and she needs your help planning and executing the event. Lauren is very pregnant and it's your sisterly duty to help her. Love, Mom."
Reagan snorts as she finishes reading the note.
"This is such a Farrah note," she laughs, but stops as she is met by Amy's stone cold stare.
"I need a drink," Amy says getting up to grab another donut and a cold beer from the fridge, taking a huge bite from the donut and washing it down by chugging a third of it in one sweep. "I knew getting close to Lauren would eventually bite me in the ass," she mumbles, taking a seat next to Reagan.
"Where's mine?" Reagan asks, half jokingly, half seriously. Amy was not amused and glared at her. "Come on, it won't be that bad. Hester was, like, the best high school to go to." Amy continued looking at Reagan until it dawned on her. "Oh," she said looking at the TV. "Karma…" she trailed off.
"Yep," Amy said, chugging the rest of the beer. "Karma."
##
"Your eyes look beautiful tonight," Karma said, her fingers entwined behind Amy's neck, as they slow danced. At the compliment, Amy blushed and looked down. "Look at me," Karma whispers, their eyes meeting again, as they both smile.
"I just can't believe we are graduating. Together. And, we are going to Clement together," Amy rambled, a little out of breath. "As in, together-together," she sighed, as Karma leaned her head against Amy's shoulder, nuzzling her face against Amy, careful not to let her senior prom queen tiara fall off her head.
"I could stay like this forever, Amy," Karma said, closing her eyes and kissing Amy's neck. "I love you."
At that, Amy's heart stopped. Despite exchanging I love you's all the time, this one felt different. This one felt like the type of I love you that lovers exchange. She let her breath out, a smile on her face.
"I love you too."