The next day Amanda had a day off. After a day filled with a week's worth of errands and laundry, Amanda was bored and hungry. Jesse was content, bathed, fed and playing sleepily with her mobile. Another night of just the two of them. Amanda's heart was completely filled by Jessie, yet there remained a longing for some adult companionship other than what the television could offer.
"Just do it," she told herself. What's the worse that could happen – he could say no. He's been over so many times, seemingly oblivious to any non-platonic feelings she might have. This both frustrated Amanda and made her feel safe. She was terrified of acting the fool; terrified of her growing feelings for Carisi being exposed; terrified of finding reciprocation withheld.
The phone rang four times – he usually picked up the first time.
"Hello?"
"Hey Carisi, it's Amanda."
"Heeey 'manda." She heard him sort of cover the mouthpiece but clearly fail to do so completely. "It's my partner, Amanda" she heard him announce. Then a chorus of "Amanda!" This Greek chorus was clearly drunk.
"Um, are you out, Carisi?"
"Uh, yeah, yeah. Some friends from home." She heard it now. His accent was stronger and he sounded just a little less sharp.
"Are you drunk?"
"What? No." Someone shrieked with glee in the background. "Well, ya know, a lil' tipsy."
And then there was a woman's voice. "Heeeey Ahhmaandaa. This is Kerri. Sonny told us alllll about you, girl. Whyndonyacomeovah?"
"Okay, Kerri give that back –" she heard Carisi snap. "Sorry 'bout that, Rollins. Um, yeah, anyways…what were you callin' about?"
"Soonneeee, come heeere," Kerri's voice still sounded like she was still right next to the phone. Amanda had an image of a beautiful young party girl hanging on Carisi's strong shoulders.
"Oh, its nothing. It can wait until tomorrow. Have fun."
"Okay- I'll talk—"
Amanda hung up before Carisi finished. Okay, that was the worst that could happen. Amanda's months-long fantasy had just been exposed for what it was – fantasy. What was I thinking? She tried to remember the last time she had put on a party dress or stayed out past 8pm for anything other than work. Everyday her breasts ached from nursing, her feet ached from work and from their new, seemingly permanent flattening and widening s since her pregnancy. She was exhausted all the time, with puffy eyes, and she was usually grumpy. She didn't have anything remotely sexy that even fit anymore and if she did try to squeeze into something she's pretty sure she'd leak milk everywhere. And there it was – the realization—I'm a single mom, alone, with a crush on a guy that's hot, single, brilliant and popular. Amanda felt a stab of loneliness and self loathing, a mixture of emotion that was somewhere between the feeling of being left out at a middle school dance and the aching of a grown woman to be cherished and appreciated for her ability to bring life into the world, her ability to love, her ability to survive.
If Amanda Rollins were someone who cried, she might have in that moment. Instead she dutifully tucked her darling daughter into bed and then watched cheap reality t.v. until she fell asleep on the couch.