Who: Amy and Charley What:Talking. It's not going to be pretty. Where: Amy's apartment When: around 6 o clock today
Though she’d been spending most of her time at Priestly’s apartment, Amy had thought that it was a much better choice to invite Charley over to her apartment in the complex. She was a bundle of nerves, even shaking a little as she took the boxed, frozen lasagna from her freezer. Usually she got her food from the kitchen. There was always something down there whether it be fruit or snacks and it was always free. She’d found that Lawrence was a good place to practice frugality as you never really knew when an emergency road trip out of town would take place.
As instructed, Amy jabbed holes in the plastic covering with a paring knife, but with her hands shaking she wound up jabbing herself in the pad of her thumb.
“Shit,” She muttered to herself, sucking on the injury on instinct only to jerk it away from her mouth moments later with a repulsed look on her face. Amy had spent so much time trying to forget the taste of blood. She shook her head and turned on cold water, letting the water run over the cut. It wasn’t so bad. A simple bandaid would cover it up. She could fix the meal and dress the cut afterwards.
After poking holes in the container, Amy slid the dish into the microwave, typing in the proper time. She wondered if food would make the bad news any better. It was a lame effort, but she would do as much as she could to make it easier for Charley. She slouched in a chair only a few feet from the microwave.
What Amy kept telling herself was that she’d done nothing wrong, but she wasn’t quite believing the message. Yes, he’d been gone for a long time before she’d laid a hand on Priestly. She had waited for Charley. She’d had his feelings in mind the whole time. It had seemed like he would never show up in Lawrence. Still, her heart was heavy with guilt. This wasn’t going to be easy and she knew it.
She jumped just slightly when she heard the beeping of the microwave signaling that her frozen lasagna was done cooking. Amy shook her head and got up from her seat to move the food onto a paper plate, not too worried about the slightly burned edges of the food. Microwave food was the best she could manage and it was better than serving Cheetos, her only other option.