Chapter Five Amelia

FIVE

Minutes from March board meeting of The Collective

Present: Guinevere, Patricia Benicio Hewitt, Giuseppe, Alexandria, Philippa, Gregorio, John, Miss Pennywhistle, Maurice J. Pettigrew

Absent: George

Called to order: 9:15 PM

Memorial Hymns sung to The Founding Eight: Led by Alexandria

OLD BUSINESS:

Saint Margaret’s annual bake sale : A smashing success! Number of frightened human children: up 57% from last year. Number of humans exsanguinated: up 25% from last year. Recruitment: half dozen new familiars welcomed into fold. (Round of applause was given for Miss Pennywhistle, for all her hard work in making this year’s event so successful.)

The Search for Reginald Cleaves : We have learned the man responsible for the deaths of our sires now lives in Chicago, Illinois. We have relocated to a house just west of the city to monitor his movements.

Cleaves is, unfortunately, aware of our intentions and now hides in plain sight by wearing more modest attire than his usual. We believe this is due largely to Giuseppe’s cardboard Muppet stunt, taken without board approval. While using The Count appears to have successfully communicated our fury regarding the Count Wyatt Contesque INCIDENT, the implementation was as subtle as a vampire at sunrise. Giuseppe was reprimanded for acting without board approval and was admonished not to do something so silly again.

As no one else in the vampire community is committed to bringing the ungrateful monster responsible for THE INCIDENT to justice, it is up to us to remain vigilant. No person who would so callously end the lives not just of our sires, but of his own, should be allowed to escape justice.

NEW BUSINESS:

New castle floodlights : discussion tabled until April, when the human contractor responsible for project can be present. Reminder: He works for us. NO ONE EAT HIM.

Meeting adjourned: 10:15 PM

April meeting will begin at 9:15 PM. George to provide refreshments.

Amelia

Shortly after my impromptu I’m dating someone reveal, my nephew Aiden had a meltdown to rival Chernobyl. Everybody’s attention immediately shifted away from me towards trying to get the shrieking toddler to calm down.

I wasn’t used to feeling gratitude towards a small child. But my nephew really did me a solid when he refused to be comforted by cat videos on YouTube. Adam and Jess looked absolutely wrecked by the time we left the restaurant, and I felt bad for them, but I was so relieved to no longer be the focus of attention that I was mostly just glad for myself.

My reprieve didn’t last long, though. I had texts from Sam and Mom before I even made it to the train station.

SAM: Congratulations on the dude

SAM: Happy for you. And trying hard not to be hurt that you didn’t tell me before tonight.

SAM:

MOM: Your father and I are so happy you’ll be bringing someone to the wedding, hon.

MOM: You’ve been single for so long. We’ve been worried.

MOM: We can’t wait to meet the lucky young man. What’s his name?

That was a good question, honestly. And one I hadn’t the foggiest idea how to answer.

It was nearly ten by the time I got home to my Lakeview apartment, almost fifteen hours after I’d left for work that morning. My head ached from the combined effects of too much wine at dinner, the mess I’d just created for myself, and exhaustion.

When I walked inside, a little of the anxiety I’d been carrying all day melted away.

I let my briefcase slip from my shoulder and placed it on the floor beside the black stool where my calico cat, Gracie, perched like a furry judgmental owl. My home was my sanctuary, with every book and knickknack in its place, the thermostat and water pressure at just the right settings, and all the stressors that made up the rest of my life kept firmly on the other side of the closed door.

As I slid off my coat and pulled a hanger from the closet, I noticed Gracie glaring at me sanctimoniously. Gracie had an uncannily strong drunk detector for a nine-year-old cat, and her you stayed out past curfew face was something to behold. It told me she knew I’d had too much to drink on a Tuesday night and lied to my family about having a boyfriend. It also told me I should have been home to play with her hours ago.

“ Meow ,” Gracie lectured.

I couldn’t even be mad. “I deserve that,” I agreed.

“ Meow ,” Gracie said again, with feeling.

Okay, that was a bridge too far. “Look. I’ve had a really rough day.” Part of me knew it was ridiculous to get into an argument with a cat. The rest of me needed Gracie to understand .

Instead of understanding, Gracie chose to jump onto the kitchen counter where Sophie put my mail.

Right there, on top of the spring issue of the University of Chicago alumni magazine and the new issue of Cat Fanciers was the wedding invitation Mom had said was coming.

I looked helplessly at Gracie, who seemed to have given up on judging my life choices in favor of bathing her right front paw.

“I don’t want to open it,” I told her.

Instead of backing me up, Gracie signaled this conversation was over by jumping off the counter and sauntering over to my living room couch. One downside to having a nonhuman roommate was when I needed someone to validate me, I was usually out of luck.

“Fine,” I muttered. I supposed there was no point in putting off the inevitable. At least Gretchen had sent this to my apartment. My cousin Sarah had sent her invitation to my office. That tacitly pitying implication that I spent more of my life at work than I did not at work had just added insult to injury.

I took a deep breath and slid my finger beneath the envelope’s seal.

Purple calligraphy slanted gracefully across the front of the ivory inner envelope:

Amelia Collins, Plus One

I had to admit that the invitation looked very nice. I didn’t realize Shutterfly carried such formal-looking card stock.

Mr. and Mrs. Alex Madden

and Mr. and Mrs. Francis Whitlock

Do hereby request the honor of your presence at the marriage of their children

gretchen elizabeth and joshua cole

on Saturday, May 14, at 5 in the evening at Twin Meadows Country Club, Chicago, Illinois. Reception immediately to follow.

Another family wedding at Twin Meadows, then. Half my uncles belonged to it, so it had become a family wedding default.

I peeked inside the envelope again and saw two additional off-white three-by-five cards. One of them was an invitation to an engagement dinner at Aunt Sue’s house that Sunday.

Crap.

That was soon .

The other card was an invitation to a couples’ getaway to our families’ cabins in Wisconsin the following weekend. My great-grandfather had owned several acres in Door County, and when he died, my grandfather built cabins on it, deeding one to each of his four children. My family had spent two weeks up there every summer when I was a kid; as far as I knew, my aunts had done the same thing with their children.

All my associations with the place involved hiking, fishing, s’mores, and mosquito bites. I’d always loved our family trips up there, but it seemed an odd place to hold a pre-wedding getaway celebration. But then, I wouldn’t know anything about that.

Two truly terrifying thoughts occurred to me.

First: Would my family expect me to bring my nonexistent boyfriend to these events?

And then: Would I be able to find someone in time?

Either way, I probably needed to reply to Mom’s and Sam’s texts. I was still on the fence about whether I was actually going through with this charade, but I had to tell Sam the truth about what was going on. We’d told each other everything since childhood. I was bad at lying to anyone; it was impossible for me to lie to Sam.

AMELIA: Sam, please keep this a secret until I decide what I’m going to do

AMELIA: But when I said I was taking someone to the wedding at first I was totally just being sarcastic

AMELIA: It wasn’t until everyone BELIEVED me that I decided this could maybe be a way to get mom and dad off my back about dating somebody

His reply was immediate.

SAM: Wow. Okay.

SAM: I’ll let you handle it

SAM: I won’t breathe a word to anyone. Just keep me posted on what you decide.

AMELIA: Of course

AMELIA: Thank you

AMELIA: Love you

AMELIA: Let me know the next time you and Scott have time for a movie night

SAM: Will do

SAM: Also, sorry to be a nag, but I got worried when you didn’t reply right away

SAM: Were you careful walking home?

I rolled my eyes.

AMELIA: Are we doing this again?

SAM: Since when is it a crime for me to worry about my sister?

Until a few months ago, Sam had expressed what I’d always thought of as a regular, brotherly amount of concern for my safety. The past few months, though, he’d become bizarrely nervous. Last week he’d even started encouraging me to carry a sharp wooden stick in my purse if I planned to be out at night.

That’s the point where I’d decided he was being ridiculous.

SAM: You don’t know who could be out there, Ame

SAM: There could be murderers, muggers, thieves following you home

SAM: Even, you know

SAM: Vampires

I burst out laughing.

AMELIA: Thieves?

AMELIA: Vampires?????

AMELIA: You’re playing too much Baldur’s Gate 3

SAM: Hey, I’ve been playing it an entirely normal amount

SAM: You should try it once tax season’s over

SAM: But that’s beside the point

SAM: You never know who or what might be out there, is all I’m saying

I chuckled, shaking my head.

At least he was a caring brother.

AMELIA: I was careful coming home tonight. Okay?

SAM: Liar

AMELIA: Probably

AMELIA: But you don’t need to worry about me, okay? I’ve lived in Chicago all my life. It’s not like I’m wandering around with my purse unzipped on the El or anything.

AMELIA: Anyway I need to think of what to say to mom about the boyfriend I made up so I better go

AMELIA: Love you

There. That was the easier of the two conversations over with.

I pulled up Mom’s texts again and chewed on my lower lip, thinking.

Was I really going to pretend I was seeing someone and bringing them to this wedding? Could I even pull off a lie of this caliber?

If I knew that my family’s little comments about my nonexistent love life would be limited to the day of the wedding, I could probably shrug it all off and not let it get to me. But Mom in particular became especially nudgy in the weeks leading up to a family wedding. Before Sam’s, Mom had dropped names of her friends’ single sons just about every time I saw her. At my cousin Sarah’s, Mom had gone so far as to introduce me to three different men at the event itself.

To say nothing about the awkward comments about showing up to a series of family wedding events alone, again, that I’d get from Aunt Sue.

I didn’t need this in my life right now.

Especially since all of it came with the strong implication that my life was incomplete the way it was. Which offended me more than I could say. I had a cat I adored like a daughter, good friends, and a career I enjoyed. Even if my family didn’t understand what I saw in it.

So what if my Herculean workload left me with zero time to date? I was okay with it. I didn’t begrudge people like my brothers—or Gretchen—their right to get married if they wanted to. Why was it such a big deal that I didn’t want any of that for myself?

Maybe finding some random guy to pose as my fake boyfriend at these events would buy me a few more months of peace.

I stared at the lettering on the inner envelope again, and read the way it was addressed to Amelia Collins, Plus One , over and over again.

Fuck it.

I decided I had nothing to lose.

This might have been the most bananapants idea I’d ever had in my life. It was definitely more than a bit childish. But who knew? Maybe it would turn out to be one of the best ideas I’d ever had, too.

I supposed time would tell.

I replied to my mother.

AMELIA: Looking forward to you all meeting him too, Mom!

I set my phone down on the couch beside me so that I wouldn’t see what, if anything, Mom wrote in response.

I counted slowly to ten, then got up and walked into my kitchen. I found the bottle of wine from when Sam and Scott came over for dinner a couple weeks ago. It was still half full, which was convenient.

I took a swig directly from the bottle. Because why not? There was no one there to judge me for it other than Gracie, and she was fast asleep.

Thus bolstered by liquid courage, I texted Sophie.

AMELIA: Hi Soph

AMELIA: I did something that was either a genius move or else really stupid

AMELIA: Not sure which

AMELIA: Can we talk? I need your help.