Amy's Smile Ch. 01

I knew that kind of cake. It may not look pretty, but the taste was guaranteed to be more fulfilling than most orgasms I've had. And I've had some amazing orgasms.

But where was the piece de resistance? I looked frantically for a dish of lasagna or linguini, anything, that could account for that wonderful odor.

Then I saw her. Amy. She was huddled in the corner with her arms wrapped around her thin, little body, her head and shoulder scrunched to hold the phone she was listening to in place. And she was crying.

"No sure," she said trying hard not to sniffle, "I understand, really."

She listened some more, than noticed me and smiled weakly.

"Right, no that's fine. Charlie just came in, maybe he'll want some."

She looked at me with a question in her eyes, then she stepped aside and motioned to an enormous pan of cannelloni. It was one of my all time favorites; but I wasn't as hungry as I had been a few minutes ago.

Still, I raised my eyebrows and licked my lips; it made me sick to see the gratitude in her eyes. I was going to kill Liam when I saw him again.

"Okay well, have a good time." Amy hung up the phone.

"What's wrong?" I asked, though I could guess.

"Huh?" Amy scrubbed her eyes with her hands. "Oh nothing."

She turned with that quick light step of hers and started to cut the bread with her back to me. I could see her shoulders trembling.

"There's good news, really." She continued, trying to keep her voice light. "Liam got a promotion."

"You're kidding?!"

I was surprised. Liam didn't strike me as a promoting kind of guy. I guess I didn't hide my feelings too well. Amy's head snapped around and she shot me a glare. Pathetic, here the guy stands her up, and she gets mad at me for questioning his perfection.

"He's not stupid you know." She said, still looking at me like I was toe jam.

"No," I responded mildly, "he's not. But you gotta admit his six-pack is missing a few of those plastic rings that keep it together."

"Yeah well," she shrugged too beaten to argue, "he was going to come home and we were going to celebrate, but Bambi..."

Shit, I thought, that was it. You'd think I could remember that one. It was even a cartoon name.

"...and her Dad, asked him to go out with them instead."

"Bo.. Bambi, and her, Dad?"

"Tom Becker, Liam's boss, he's Bambi's father."

Oh, that explained a lot of things. But I didn't have the heart to tease Amy about it. She looked all out as it was.

"I have all this food." Her hand swept around the kitchen. "Just help yourself. I bought tin foil, so you can wrap up the leftovers. Maybe you guys will want them later."

She darted across the kitchen and tried to slip around me; but my hand grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

I don't know why it did that.

"What?" She said.

She dropped her head and stared down at the floor. Her shapeless hair parted like a curtain hiding her face, but exposing the nape of her neck. She had such a little neck.

"Hey," my lips moved and sound came out, but I swear I didn't make it happen, "why don't you stick around and help me eat this?"

No, no, no! I screamed to myself. What the Hell are you doing? You could be rid of her in five, maybe ten minutes tops, if you'd just shut up. Then you could sit down with a knife, and fork, and eat the whole fucking dish of cannelloni, alone, by yourself, in peace.

"Please," it was like I was possessed, "I could use the company."

She looked up at me and smiled shyly.

"Okay."

Aw Jesus...

She got out the plates and I helped her set the card table that held the place of honor in the dining room. She'd already started on it before I'd gotten home. There was a sheet draped over the dented top, and she'd found a couple of those emergency candles in a drawer and stuck them into a some empty LaBatts bottles she'd dug out of the trash.

There were napkins too, paper ones left over from last year's Christmas party. They were all festive and cheery, with a picture of Santa bent over, his pants at his ankles and a balloon coming out of his mouth with the words, 'Merry Christmas my ass'.

Well, they were funny when I bought them.

She'd even found enough silverware to make up three place settings. I was touched. Apparently, she'd been planning on feeding me too all along.

"I thought maybe Liam would invite Bambi." Amy said.

Okay, maybe not.

Then it hit me what she'd just said, and I stared at her in awe. Amy had cooked dinner for the guy she loved and his, girlfriend?! This girl should advertise on the Internet. She could make a lot of money in the world of S & M. I'd never known anybody who welcomed pain and humiliation as much as she did.

I opened my mouth to say something, but she'd already swooped back to the kitchen, which was just as well because I didn't want to get involved anyway. She returned a few minutes later holding the steaming dish of cannelloni. My stomach took over and I forgot about everything else as my mouth watered and my fingers twitched with the urge to grab a big string of hot cheese and pop it between my greedy lips.

The first bite was delicious and so was the last. I chomped my way through two helpings of pasta, a large bowl of salad, half the bread and a piece of cake of obscene dimensions. Amy ate three pieces of lettuce.

Except for the moans and purrs I couldn't seem to stop making, dinner was a silent affair. While I gobbled at the trough, Amy kept her head down and used her fork to draw designs in the extra sauce around her untouched pasta roll.

Apparently, she'd forgotten I was in the room. She didn't even notice when I got up, which by the way, wasn't very easy, because my center of gravity had changed with the addition of about 10 pounds of rich food in my gut. I took our dirty dishes into the kitchen. She was still sitting there a few minutes later when I brought in two cups of coffee and plunked one down in front of her. She looked so vulnerable; I wanted to slap her.

But hey, it was none of my business if she wanted to be Liam's personal asswipe. Far be it from me to interfere with the course of true obsession.

"It was a great meal." I said and it was the truth.

"Thanks." She never even looked at me.

"Why do you let him treat you like this?"

Shit!
What in the hell was wrong with me tonight? It seemed it was impossible for me to keep my big mouth shut.

Amy shook her head and said nothing.

Get up and go in the other room, I told myself. Take your coffee with you and escape. You can do it; it's the only smart thing to do.

"He's using you."

A tear slid off Amy's cheek and made a big wet splash on the sheeted table. Oh wonderful, maybe later, I could go out and find a kitten to torture.

"Answer me, damn it."

Her head snapped up and she glared at me. Well, it was better than tears.

"You couldn't possibly begin to understand."

"Aw that's bullshit..." I started.

"Look at you," she interrupted and for the first time since I'd met her I didn't have to strain to hear her. "You're tall, good looking, you have a great body and a smart, funny tongue. People notice you, they like you. You have friends; I hear you talking on the phone, laughing, making plans. You meet them for lunch or go out to bars together."

"It's not that big a deal."

What was going on here? In a minute, she'd have me apologizing for having friends.

"And women," she shook her head, "I've seen how they check you out."

"But..."

"You think that Liam's not a nice guy because he isn't always very grateful, but at least he acknowledges I'm alive. I know you don't want to believe this, but he can be real sweet sometimes. He bought me flowers once."

"That's..."

"And he calls me every day." She cut me off.

"Yeah," I snorted, "when he realizes he's out of beer."

Amy stood so fast she almost collapsed the card table. For such a little girl, she could look pretty intimidating.

"How dare you?" She spit. "How dare you sit there with that look of contempt and pass judgment on me? I know what you think, I see you sneering at me, just because I like to be helpful to the only friend I have in the world. Yeah, I know you, but you have no idea what it's like to be me!"

She would have stalked out of the room then, but now it was my turn to stand and I did manage to break the damn table. Amy squeaked as it fell; then squeaked again when I grabbed her wrist and started to drag her with me as I left the room.

"Come on." I ordered as she struggled to free herself.

"Let go of me!"

I did. So suddenly she almost landed on her bony ass. We stared at each other gasping for breath.

"So you think I don't understand, huh? I don't know you, but you know all about me?" I put my hands on my hips and leaned in. "Lady, you're the one who's fucking clueless."

I was really pissed for some reason, though I didn't exactly know why.

"I have something I want to show you."

I grabbed her arm again, still furious and prepared to carry her if that's what it took, but the fight had gone out of her and she let me lead her tamely up the stairs. She pulled up again when we reached my bedroom door. I opened the door and pushed her in.

Ever have one of those moments when you wish you could run the clock back about 30 seconds? That's how I felt when I saw the look on Amy's face. I was used to my room; it didn't look that bad to me. One look at Amy's face told me I might need to rethink that assessment.

"Gosh Charlie," she looked awe struck, "you're really a pig."

"It's not that bad."

"It's a sty."

"I suppose I should pick up a few things." I muttered.

"Two years ago you should have picked up; now you need to excavate."

"Jesus Christ, I'm not asking you to clean it!" I was getting annoyed.

"Good thing."

I decided it would be better to ignore her and just get on with what I came for.

"Sit there." I pointed to the bed, mainly because it was the only surface in the room that wasn't covered in clothes and dirty dishes.

Amy looked dubiously at the rumpled and tangled covers. They were gray, but that's how they were supposed to be.

I think.

"Is it safe?"

"Hey I wash the sheets. I just don't make them up all the time."

Ever, was more like it, but I didn't really think that was any of her business. I was getting real tired of this conversation anyway.

Amy sat down gingerly, trying to make as little contact with the bed as possible. I went over to the stack of books and magazines I'd collected in one of the corners and began pawing through them.

After finding three years of SI, a bunch of Tom Clancy's and a pair of old jockey's that were sticking to a 1996 issue of Playboy (full of good articles, I'm sure, if you took into account the state of those briefs) I finally found what I was looking for; Southland High's 1991 Laker Log, my old alma mater's yearbook. I grabbed it and went over to sit next to Amy.

"Care to take a trip with me through memory lane?"

I flipped pages until I came to the one I was looking for. It was a group shot of the football team.

"See anyone you recognize?"

She looked carefully at the faces of each of the players, twice. She raised her head and shook her it.

"Look again."

"Charlie..."

"How about this one?" I pointed at the team manager. "Ring any bells now?"

Amy stared at the kid in the photo. He was dark haired, maybe 5'1" and if he weighed anymore than 80 pounds, it was because he'd just had lunch. I watched as her eyes widened.

"Oh wow, that's..."

I beat her to it.

"Yep, you're right, it's me. The littlest kid in the junior class, boy or girl."

"But..."

"Wait, there's more." I flipped pages and pointed again. "See her?"

Amy nodded dumbly. But her eyes were beginning to wise up; she knew what was coming next.

"Her name was Johanna Dalrymple. I thought she looked like Melanie Griffith. I followed her around like a puppy, and that's just how she treated me. Like a dog she didn't love very much, but could be fun sometimes when she felt like putting it through its tricks. Oh, and I'd do them too. I'd roll over and jump through hoops, anything to make Johanna smile. Jesus." I shook my head.

"Charlie," Amy said softly, "you don't have to tell me this."

"But I want to." I insisted.

"I was never her boyfriend. She had plenty of big, strong guys for that. No, my role was mascot, the little guy with the bad skin who tagged after her; carrying her books and listening to her bitch about how hard it was to be the most popular girl in school."

I clenched my jaw as I flushed at the memory.

"She'd turn her big blue eyes in my direction and whisper how glad she was that I was her friend, because nobody else understood her. Yeah, right. Then she'd pat me on the head and tell me to go away because she had to get ready for her date with one of her real boyfriends."

I knew I'd scored a direct hit with that last one when Amy flinched and started to pull away and stand. Funny, even though that had been the effect I was going for, it didn't make me feel all that great.

"Sorry." I pulled her back down and we were both silent for a moment. I slipped the yearbook onto the floor. Amy just stared at her Disney free fingernails.

"So you see," I continued softly. "I do know exactly what you're going through."

Aw Christ, now she was crying again. I sat there and watched helplessly. Of course, I didn't have a Kleenex, and I was pretty sure she wouldn't appreciate it if I tried to mop her face with one of my dirty tees. The briefs were out of the question. I took her in my arms and rubbed her back.

"I, I, don't know what to do." She whispered into my shirt. "I really care about Liam, but I can't seem to make him see that."

"I know, I know." And the pisser was, I did.

"I realize I make too many excuses for him. I know I should just walk away. It's not like it would be any big deal; he'd probably never even know I was gone."

"Yes he would," I said soothingly, "as soon as he ran out of clean shorts."

Amy raised up her head and looked at me. Then she did the most amazing thing, she laughed. I'd never heard her do that before. It was almost, pretty.

"You're a jerk, you know that." The tears were still leaking out of her eyes, but she was smiling. She actually had an okay smile too.

"Yeah, but at least I'm an entertaining jerk."

"True."

My back was starting to get stiff from the awkward position I was in because of holding Amy. I pushed her gently away.

"Better now?"

Her eyes clouded. I knew that look, it was the: 'Oh God, he thinks I'm an idiot look.' I took her back in my arms.

"Well, maybe for a few minutes more." I said. "But let's get a little more comfortable; that is if you can bring yourself to actually lie down on my disgusting sheets."

She giggled again, which I took to be a yes. I pulled her with me so we were lying down. Then I tucked her up against my chest.

She was such a little thing; it was like having a kitten curled up next to you. I'd never particularly been attracted to little women, and I'd never been to bed with one before. Not, that I had any plans for Amy either. I was just being a friend. A real friend.

"Charlie..." Amy sounded sleepy. With the emotional roller coaster Liam and I had put her through that day it was no wonder.

"Yes?"

"You and I are different you know. You didn't stay that little boy; you grew up."

"That's right I did," I stroked her hair, "but not in time."

"I don't understand."

"I mean, I'd like to tell you that I finally got wise to the manipulating bitch; that I finally got fed up and walked away from her. But I didn't."

Amy looked up at me and rested her chin on my collarbone. "Go on."

"I never confronted her when she pretended I was invisible; which was a daily occurrence, believe me. And I never said a word when she left me to go off with some friends without telling me, so I ended up waiting three hours in a parking lot because she'd said she needed a ride home from the mall."

I was deep into remembering now, and the humiliation was as sharp as it had been seven years before. "Christ, I never complained. Not even when she dressed me up in her twelve year old sister's clothes and made me talk with a southern accent so she could take me to party and pass me off as her little cousin from Texas."

"Liam and Bambi went to a Halloween party last year as Nick and Nora Charles; I went with them." Amy said dreamily.

"Oh no," I groaned, "do not say what I think you're going to say."

"Yep, I was Asta."

I couldn't help it; I had to laugh. This whole thing - her, me, Liam, Johanna... It was too damn tragic to be anything but funny. Amy joined me, and we both roared until I was holding my stomach, and she was crying again.

"And you know what else?" She gasped. "At school sometimes, he'd take me out for a beer, but when we'd get there, he'd go into the bar ahead of me. If he saw anybody he knew, he'd make up some excuse about the place being too crowded and we'd have to go somewhere different."

"That's nothing, Johanna used to make me go sit in the restroom if we were out in public and she saw a cute guy she wanted to talk to. I spent so much time in Men's Rooms, there was a rumor at school I was gay."

"Wait, wait I can top that..."

And on and on it went. We traded war stories like seasoned soldiers; each of us trying to one up each other with the humiliations we'd suffered at the hands of our ideals. It was kind of fun in a sick, perverted way.

But suddenly Amy got this stricken look. I knew I wasn't going to want to hear what she was going to say next.

"It doesn't matter though. I can't let go of him, Charlie. I can't help it."

See, I knew I wasn't going to like it.

"So how did it end with Johanna?" Amy wisely changed the subject.

"She graduated." I shrugged. "She was a year older than me. She left that June to work as a camp counselor. I never saw her again."

I shrugged; it was history. I hadn't thought of it in years. Until Amy showed up.

"In a funny way, I always thought her leaving was the catalyst to my maturing. Like, she'd somehow kept me a little boy. Anyway, I started to grow that summer, and by the time I graduated from high school I was six foot one. A 130 pounds mind you, but eventually I filled out. My skin seemed to miraculously clear up too; but that really was because Johanna was gone. She always made me so damn nervous."

Amy's hair had fallen over her face again. I don't know why it didn't drive her crazy. On impulse, I reached up and tucked one side behind her ear. She ducked and shook her head, making her hair tumble back over her cheek.

"Don't."

"Why? At least that way it's out of your eyes."

"I don't like it that way."

"But apparently, you like having to look through a curtain all the time."

"I have ugly ears."

"What?"

"I hate my ears, okay?" She sat up. "They're elf ears."

Now I sat up.

"Let me see."

I reached out my hand, but she swatted it away.

"Come on, let me see."

She sighed, then turned and faced me. She grabbed her hair and pulled it back. She was right; she had elf ears.

"They're not so bad."

"Elf ears."

"Well it could be worse." I said. "They could be Vulcan ears. Actually, I kind of like them."

"Yeah, sure."

"No seriously, they're cute."

And in a way, they were. They were very tiny, like the rest of her, and they didn't stick out or anything. They were just a little, pointy.

"I don't believe you."

But she smiled when she said it. Her smile turned into a yawn.

"Gosh, I'm tired."

She slumped back a little and my hands came up to her shoulders to catch her and pull her back down on the bed to lie with me. I swear to God, I was only being a friend.