"Fuck You, Amy"

Kelly | Family | your anti-american dream

Kelly set the drinks down on the table: caramel latte, non-fat latte, cappuccino.  "Do you need anything else?  Well, let me know if you do." 

She hated pretending to be happy all the time, but the money was good.  Better than relying on her dad for money.  The last time he had given her any kind of money, he had not been pleased with how she chose to spend it. 

She shook her head, refusing to dwell on it.  She glanced at a table near the drink station.  A petite blond girl was sitting at the table, staring intensely at Kelly.  Another thing she refused to think about. 

She made her way back to the drink station.  Marilyn was pouring steamed milk into a paper cup.  She put a sleeve and a lid on it, and handed it to Kelly.  "Take this to your sister." 

Kelly recoiled from it as if it were a poisonous snake.  "No." 

"Kelly, honey, I'm not trying to make you one big happy family again.  But I've got drinks to make, and you're not fast enough yet to handle it yourself.  Just take this to her." 

Kelly sighed.  "Fine."  She took the drink and walked over to the table occupied by the blond girl: her twin sister, Amy.  They weren't identical; Kelly had their father's dark coloring, while Amy looked more like their mother. 

She set the drink down, turned, and was walking away, when she heard Amy's voice.  "Kelly, wait!"  Kelly shook her head and kept walking.  She could hear Amy's chair pulled back, and her ridiculous high heels clacking on the tiled floor. 

"Kells, please wait.  I need to talk to you."  Kelly felt her sister touch her arm. 

She stopped, and after a moment, she turned to face her sister.  "What can you possibly have to say to me, Amy?  The social worker, she told me you didn't give a shit what he did to me.  That it was normal, so you wouldn't have bothered to help me." 

"But Kelly, it was – "

Kelly gripped her apron.  "Don't ever say that to me.  Don't say anything like that.  What the fuck is wrong with you?  Since when is that normal?  Or what, because he beat me regularly, that's what made it normal?  Oh, it happens all the time, it must be normal?  Fuck you!" 

She started to turn and go back to work, but Amy grabbed her arm.  "Kelly, please, all Mom does is cry anymore, we have to do something.  Dad will be in jail for a while; we have plenty of time to think of something."  Amy's eyes were glistening with unspilled tears, and her voice shook. 

"What?  You think I'm coming home after how you and Mom reacted?  Mom told me to just act 'normal', and he wouldn't be so 'upset'.  Like it's my fault that Dad's an asshole.  It's the other way around, if you ask me.  Look, Dee's dad has signed the papers.  He's officially my foster dad."  She turned to go back to the counter.  "I have to work.  I don't particularly want to continue this conversation." 

She got behind the drink station, and placed her hands on the counter, leaning forward, with her head down.  She took in several deep breaths.  She was shaking. 

"Honey, I've called Dee in.  As soon as she gets here, you can go home." 

Kelly looked up at Marilyn in surprise.  "All right.  Thanks." 

* * *

Dee showed up a few minutes later.  She gave Kelly a hug.  "Hey, Marilyn said something about your sister?" 

Kelly nodded, and jerked her head to where Amy was sitting, drinking her steamer.  "She – I don't want to talk about it." 

Dee nodded.  "It's okay.  Look, I'll see you tonight, okay?" 

"Yeah."  Kelly started for the door.  When she was outside, she leaned against the wall and rummaged through her bag for her cigarettes and lighter. 

As she was lighting her cigarette, the door opened to her left, and Amy walked out.  Kelly rolled her eyes, and blew her smoke in Amy's direction.  "I really hope you haven't come to continue our previous conversation." 

Amy sighed, running a hand through her long hair.  "Kells, I don't know what to say.  I'm sorry it all happened like this, but is it really that big a deal?" 

Kelly turned to face her sister.  "You're sorry?  Sorry!  What the fuck do you know?  A bit harder, and Dad could've broken my nose!  He never touched Mom, except maybe in bed."  She glanced at Amy, her face pale and her eyes wide.  "You must have heard them."  She took a drag from her cigarette, blowing the smoke above Amy's head.  "But you?  You were Daddy's little girl, all sweet and golden, he never fucking touched you.  He fuckin' loved you.  You'd lick his boots if he told you to, wouldn't you, Amy?" 

Amy's face was red and screwed up as if she was trying not to cry.  "Don't – don't you – you don't – you don't know – you don't fucking – " 

"Fuck you, Amy.  I'm going home."  She threw the cigarette down, smashed it under her foot, and walked away.