Page 46 of The Seemingly Impossible Love Life of Amanda Dean

What the hell was she doing?

Who was she kidding?

She wasn’t some great artist. She couldn’t even complete an assignment. And now here she was, thousands of miles from home, and she didn’t have any friends, and if she ever saw the sun again, it would be some kind of miracle. Why was England so fucking gray? It wasn’t even a pretty gray. It was cold, and dreary. She never should have come here. She never should have let herself believe she could actually be good at this. She blew up her life, and for what? She hated it here, in this house, in this country, a gazillion miles from home. But most of all she hated that girl in the mirror. And that damn hair was still tickling her nose!

Without any thought, she grabbed the scissors from the top drawer and started chopping. But with each cut, that annoying little tickle was still there. Still reminding her of what a disaster her life had become. Blonde strands littered the black-and-white-tiled floor. She cut one side, then crumpled into a ball on the floor and let out a guttural sob. Tears splashed down among the clumps of golden hair.

There was a gentle knock on the door followed by, “Are you okay in there?”

With the little strength Mandy had, she unlocked the door because no, she was not okay. She was verynotokay.

“Bloody hell, what have you done?” Sophie knelt next to Mandy and took the scissors from her.

“It wouldn’t stop tickling,” was all Mandy could say. She’d fucked up. Just like she’d been fucking everything up lately. She’d destroyed her hair. And she deserved it.

“Get in the shower, and I’ll deal with the mess. And then…and then we’ll figure this out.”

Mandy nodded and unclipped the straps of her overalls. She didn’t care that Sophie was there. She didn’t care about anything anymore.

She didn’t need to look in the mirror to understand the mess she had created on her head. As soon as she went to shampoo, her hair was obviously different—at least on one side. Where she once would’ve had to pull up her hair and pile it on top of her head to reach the ends to wash them properly, she didn’t have to do that anymore. There was no need to reach, as there was nothing to reach for.

The water never got quite warm enough, but Mandy didn’t bother trying to turn up the heat. She washed and scrubbed until her skin was red and angry, just like she was with herself. When she got out, Sophie had removed the evidence of Mandy’s earlier breakdown, scheduled her an appointment at a salon later that day, and made her a cup of tea, sending her to her room for a lie-down before they had to go. Mandy didn’t deserve someone being so kind to her. Especially not after all she’d done.

She lay on her bed, wrapped in her down comforter, and picked up the phone. She had to dial so many numbers to make a call, and she didn’t even know what time it was in California. But no matter, caller ID would say it was her—or at least someone calling from London—and they’d pick up no matter the hour. And Mandy needed Mom.

“Amanda, sweetheart. How’s it going?” Mom’s voice echoedthrough the receiver, and the dam of Mandy’s emotions broke. What was it about hearing your mom’s voice that did that? Tears ran down her face so quickly, she couldn’t catch them all—and she didn’t even try. “Oh, honey.”

“I messed up, Mom. I messed up so bad.”

“It’s going to be okay.”

“I miss her so much,” Mandy confessed.

“I know you do.”

Before Mandy had left, Mom chalked up Mandy’s attitude to stress and thought that Isa and she had just had a fight and that was why she wasn’t with Mandy when she left. But she didn’t know everything, and Mandy didn’t even know where to start. And now since she’d been gone, had Mom talked to Sandy? Did Isa even tell her own mom what Mandy had done? How was Isa doing? Was she as miserable as Mandy?

“But you don’t know. You don’t know what I did,” Mandy said.

“I’m sure it’s something you two can work out. You’ve been friends forever,” Mom tried to reason.

“I don’t think we can this time.” Mandy used her blanket to wipe her face. “I should’ve never come here.”

“It’s never easy being away from home for the first time.”

But it was more than that, so much more. It wasn’t just the place that Mandy longed for. “I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get mad.”

“You can tell me anything, but I can’t promise I won’t be upset.”

Mandy nodded to herself. That was fair, she supposed, and she couldn’t bear to keep it inside anymore. She cleared her throat and let it all out. As she cried into the phone and used her blanket as a tissue, Mandy told Mom everything—well, almosteverything—there was to know about her and Isa, and how Mandy messed everything up.

Mom had been true to her word and just listened, like she always listened. She wasn’t happy Mandy had kept their relationship a secret from her, but Mom also didn’t yell. Maybe because Mandy was already so upset, or because yelling wouldn’t do any good, but either way she was relieved.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” Mom said. But that’s what moms were supposed to say.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“It seems that the only thing you can do is move forward. You made your choices, and now you need to let Isa make hers.”

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