They drove to Melinda’s place in relative silence, exchanged maybe a couple of words, if anything. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but a silence that sprouted from the lack of need for any talking. They just watched the scenery and the road.
Melinda parked the car and got out.
Émilie followed her to her apartment like a silent ghost tethered to the living world. The door had a nice little sign on it that said ‘Melinda Williams’ in pretty cursive.
They got inside.
Émilie looked around her with her eyes wide open. The apartment looked nice; the walls were white, the furniture shades of yellow and brown. There was a big living room, a separate guest room, bedroom and a decently sized kitchen. Plus a large bathroom.
"Mel…," Émilie said. "When did you move? This is much nicer and larger than your last place."
"Oh," Melinda said, "did I forget to mention that to you? Well, we haven’t seen each other in a couple of weeks or so. I moved just last week, got a last-minute, magnificent offer for this place, and decided to move on the spot."
"It’s really nice, Mel," Émilie said. "I bet the rent is high though. How can you afford it?"
"Eh, that’s the secret here. The rent is only a very tiny bit higher than my last place," Melinda said. "There’s something about the apartment that made it difficult to market, so the owner offered me a deal on it. Yeah, I know! It sounds fishy, but he actually listed all the troublesome parts, and most of them matter little to me. Like, see my bathroom door? It’s so tiny; it’s so narrow! You can’t fit a washing machine into the bathroom, so that’s one point," she said, and walked to the kitchen.
"And look here. There’s no place for an oven, and the cupboards are rather short. And then there were a couple of things with the heating and AC, but those didn’t sound bad," she said. "And there’s the fact that this is quite far from the Uni, which is their prime source of renters. Doesn’t matter to me, though, as I don’t need to go there physically, except very rarely."
"You were lucky…" Émilie said. "Unlike me…" she said, and her lip quivered again.
"Emi…" Melinda said, and put her hands on Émilie’s shoulders. She pulled her close and hugged her. "If it helps you, let it out. Nobody will judge you here," she said.
She felt Émilie shudder, then shiver. She heard little sobs and patted her back gently. "Cry, Emi. Cry if it helps. It’s okay to cry," she whispered gently into her ear and held her close.
Émilie sobbed and then cried against Melinda's shoulder. She cried so much her knees buckled and Melinda had to support her weight.
She led them to the living room, sat down and placed Émilie’s head on her lap and caressed her hair while she wept.
At some point, Melinda noticed the sobbing had quieted down and Émilie had fallen asleep on her lap.
She smiled at her and moved a couple of strands of hair from her face. She stroked her cheek lightly. "Sometimes…" Melinda said under her breath, barely audibly, "Sometimes I wish I was like you… You look so beautiful, Emi… Sometimes I wish I would get a girl like you as my girlfriend…"
She wiggled carefully out from under her and placed her gently on the couch. She drew a blanket over her and switched off the lights.
"Sleep peacefully now, Emi. You’ve earned it," she said quietly.
"Sometime…," she muttered, and walked into her bedroom with a slight smile on her lips.
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