Seven (Amy); Conditions...
"For the tenth time Amy! I'm okay!"
I look at Heather sceptically and cross my arms.
"Hmm. Look, what was it? Your stomach? Or was your knee just playing up and you-"
"Amy!" Heather waves her hands, and there is a real danger of her untouched cup of (ex)hot sweet tea going flying. I move it out of her way. "You sound like your mother!" she adds accusingly.
"Ji-ee-eip- You'll dye your brain red!" I say, imitating my mothers' words of years ago. Heather covers her mouth with her hands, laughing crazily. Tim walks in quickly, obviously alerted by Heather's cackle, and looks from her to me.
"You'll make her pass out again." He says, his tone half joking, half serious. I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him. He too rolls his eyes, although he refrains from sticking out his tongue.
"Tim," Heather slips her hand around his, and even after almost two years of getting used to them being married, the flash of silver on their fingers, the closeness, and the trust I see in their eyes still incites a pang of jealousy from my heart. "I'm okay! Believe me! I mean, if you guys would let me I'd go and perform a Russian Cossak dance over there just to prove it!" She grins. Both Tim and I sigh, and Heather looks between the two of us, raising her right eyebrow. "Do you two plan this beforehand or something?" She questions. I throw a cushion at her, and within seconds we're both caught up in a fierce pillow-throwing battle. Tim looks like he doesn't know whether to scold me for encouraging her, or to just join in. Eventually he leaves the room, shaking his head in mock-despair. When he's gone I catch the last cushion Heather's thrown at me, and look at her.
"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask. She groans and slaps her palm to her forehead.
"A-meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" she whines, pouting and crossing her arms. "I'm sure! Sure I'm sure! Absolutely, positively, George Bernard Shaw!" She looks so earnest that I have to smile.
"Hmm." Is all I say. Heather rolls her eyes.
"Apth."
"Indeed."
"Quiet you!"
"Nyais..."
"Sigh! You still up for the gig tonight?" She asks, breaking up our little chain of silly comments. I frown.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? You know, going out to a gig in your condition?"
"Amy!" Heather looks thoroughly gobsmacked. "You make it sound like I'm pregnant!" she half laughs, and I grin.
"Well, you never know!"
"Amy be quiet!" Heather pokes out her tongue again. "I'm not pregnant!"
"No...." I say in a tone I know will annoy her. She throws another cushion at me, and once more we're lost in a frenzy of low-flying upholstery.
"Anyway," Heather giggles, panting somewhat. "I can't be pregnant, cause I'm nearing my period and I got dizzy and passed out, which means I will have my period because I always go all funny and dizzy when I'm about to have my period because of the whole an�mia thing."
"Hm." I don't like this explanation. Heather sighs.
"Amy, it's the only feasible explanation, and I feel fine now! I promise you! You trust me, don't you?"
"You're the one who's always boasting you can lie better than anyone." I hedge, not wanting to upset her by saying that no, I don't trust her, because I am sure she's lying, so I try to make a joke of it. Heather, luckily, takes the joke.
"Good point!"
Chapter 6 ; Contents ; Chapter 8
