Chapter Text
Amanda: Good morning, babe <3
Angela woke up to the best kind of text from her friend. She wiped her eyes, and stared at her phone with a grin on her face. The phone buzzed with another message.
Amanda: You’re coming to the party 2nite? U didn’t RSVP in the group chat, silly!!
Amanda never called her “babe” in the group chat, rarely let it slip out in public. Angela didn’t know why, never asked. She decided to bask in the affection and the personal attention when it was given.
Angela: Potluck at your place, right? What do you want me to bring?
Amanda: just your stinky butt
The text was followed by a string of emojis. Kisses, hugs, peach emoji. Was it a flirtation? Maybe. There was no reason to dwell on it, so Angela didn’t.
Angela: See you at 7
Angela said thanks to the uber driver and stepped on the porch of Amanda’s LA home. Amanda’s and her husband’s, that is. Briefly it had crossed Angela’s mind that maybe there was a benefit to marriage, such as a double income and owning a nice home.
Balancing two grocery bags, she maneuvered her elbow and rang the doorbell.
“Hi there, it’s open! Come on in!” a male voice shouted.
The husband. He was there.
“Hey, Ang!” he waved at her with a smile from the far end of the hallway.
Angela smiled back but said nothing. She entered the house with bags in her arms. “I brought a ton of alcohol. Hope you guys like my margaritas,” she said into the empty space.
“Haha, sure. I’ll be right there. Set it up in the kitchen, alright?”
Alright. Angela was still getting used to the addition in her friend group that consisted of this man. She despised his southern accent and his friendly fluffy dog personality. It was unfortunately very genuine.
The husband joined her and helped her unpack groceries. Bags of lime, juice, glass bottles of tequila clinked together. He looked huge next to her. Angela felt like a cartoon mouse standing next to him.
He was not only tall but fat, had a gut hanging from under his t-shirt. Maybe she liked that, Angela shuddered at the thought. She remembered he drove a truck for a living. Angela didn’t even have a driving license. Maybe it was simply enough that he was a man. In any case, whatever had attracted Amanda to this man, Angela couldn’t compete with.
“Am I the first one here?” she asked without looking at his face.
“Shane and Courtney just called, they’ll be here any minute.”
“Where’s Amanda?”
“Putting the baby down. My mom’s coming later to babysit.”
“Ah.”
The baby. It was here.
It was new. It was kind of cute when it wasn’t burping vomit on Amanda’s shoulder. As a concept, it was completely alien to Angela.
“Hey, you.”
Angela’s favorite person finally emerged. A warmth poured into the room, dimples in the olive skin revealed a pearly smile, dark hair that looked like burning firewood in the afternoon sun lit up the space around her. The lovely woman was dressed in a dark green cocktail dress, so was the infant on her hip.
“Wow, matching outfits. Very glam. I feel underdressed.”
“Right? Good to see you.” Amanda pulled her into a one armed hug, kissed the side of Angela’s face, ruffled her hair. Like a mom would, like a friend.
“You smell good,” Angela said, without thinking. She laughed nervously.
“I wish. I smell like this little guy. Do you want to hold him?”
“No,” Angela said. She took half a step back and crossed her arms defensively.
“You never do. He’s just a baby, you know. He doesn’t bite.”
“No, I know. It’s just weird.”
“Weird how?” Amanda fussed with the baby.
“How he came out of you. How you made him.”
“Geez, Angela. Did you just find out how babies are made?”
“You know what I mean. The birth and all that. From what you’ve told, it all just sounds like a horror story to me.”
“That’s how it goes, though, isn’t it? You meet a guy, fall in love, make another human. It happens to everyone.”
“Not everyone,” Angela said quietly, but loud enough that the other woman heard it. She looked at Angela with an emotion Angela couldn’t name.
The moment passed when a doorbell rang, and the house soon filled up with familiar faces and voices. Amanda's husband was loudly chopping tomatoes for salsa somewhere in the kitchen. Taco night. Shayne laughed like a hyena at a joke that wasn’t very funny. A pop playlist filled the space, the guests started to mingle and dance.
Somewhere nearby, an hour later or so, a grandma rocked a baby on her knees, but Angela wasn't there to witness it. She sipped on a third margarita and watched her best friend talk, as she often did.
All she knew, was that Amanda was a great friend, a new mom, and a painfully heterosexual woman. Pining after her was a foolish, self afflicted condition, something she’d never admit out loud and rarely paid attention to the feeling anyway. Nevertheless, it was there, deep inside. She couldn’t help it. In moments like this, she couldn’t help it.