Amends: A Love Story by E.J. Swenson Page A

about myself
would have been a disappointment.
    Still, every time I visit my parents, I also
think of him. I wonder how he's doing, and if I'll ever run into
him again. Sometimes I even imaging an alternate reality in which
he's the first boyfriend I take home to Mom and Dad. Totally
stupid, I know. I watch the stars for a while and then deposit
myself on a nearby bench. I say a silent farewell to my parents as
the dark night sky lightens slowly into day.

Chapter 12: Laird

    I'm standing in a long line of about thirty
other men. We're all sweating in the late-summer heat, and we're
all eager to get inside, where it's cool and full of shadows. I
keep my eyes trained on the pavement, hoping not to see anyone I
know. I've avoided coming here all summer. I'm still not sure it
was a good idea.
    As I wait, I imagine Amity the way she was
the last time I saw her, just a month after her parents had died.
She seemed young for her age, kind, and slightly awkward. And
classically beautiful, with a sweet, open face that concealed
nothing. I hope that all this time trying to survive on her own
hasn't changed her, but I know that's wishful thinking.
    When Amity walked away from me at the
cemetery, I didn't run after her or try to get in touch. Any
friendship we developed would have been a poor, fragile thing built
on a foundation of lies. I don't think I could have brought myself
to tell her about my role in the accident that killed her mother.
Every minute I spent in her presence would have been a terrible
reminder that I was powerless to do anything for her, except hold
her hand.
    Soon, though, that's all going to change.
When I turn twenty-one next week, I'll have access to part of my
trust fund. I'll use that money—anonymously, of course—to help
Amity's dreams come true. To do this right, I'm going to have to
learn everything I can about her—all her hopes and fears and
strengths and weaknesses. I want to be sure she'll spend my money
on herself and her education, and not on drugs or a greedy
boyfriend. My plan is simple and elegant. I'm going to become her
friend, change her life, and then get the fuck out of it.
    Someone is tapping me on the shoulder. I turn
around and see a balding man in khakis and a light blue polo
glaring at me. "Hey, buddy, move it along, would ya?"
    I realize I've reached the front of the line.
"Sorry, man."
    I cross a small pathway to the entrance of
the Kat Club. The bouncer rolls his eyes at my fake ID, but lets me
in anyway. After all, I'm Josiah Conroy's only son—unless he's left
a few love children here and there that I don't know about.
    Inside, I settle myself at the end of the bar
and wait uneasily. I'm not sure I'm ready for what I'm about to
see. But I want to get a better understanding of what Amity's life
is like, and I believe this strip club will give me at least a big
chunk of the whole, unvarnished truth.

    /////////////////////////

    I barely recognize Amity as she struts down
the runway. Her face is heavily made up like an anime doll, and her
body is all attitude and aggressive edges. The soft, gentle young
girl who mourned her parents is now locked inside a hard protective
shell.
    Amity's dance routine is more gymnastic than
sensual. She works the pole as if it's a sporting event, showing
off her strength and flexibility. I admire her athleticism and the
discipline it must have taken to develop such long, lean muscles,
but I feel no heat, no desire. As far as my body is concerned, she
could be my sister. I am enormously relieved. My life is
complicated enough already.
    My phone vibrates against my leg. I fish it
out and read the text.
    In town, visiting parents. Want to meet up?
Em
    Ember is my addiction and my kryptonite.
Every several months, I break down and see her. Or, if I wait too
long, she gets impatient, tracks me down, and shows up wherever I
happen to be. We come together and push each other away in an
endless cycle of need, greed, and self hatred. We're not