Chim - My Weak Spot

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Kimberley's POV

I'm standing in front of her door. I feel like running away but I know I can't. I know I should have rung the doorbell by now, but I can’t seem to lift my arm far enough. Of course she knows I’m here, I know that too. Stupid security cameras. And still, we remain on opposite sides of the door.

Finally I pluck up the courage to knock on the door, softly. I can hear her shuffle slightly, probably repositioning herself from having to lean on the door so long, waiting for me to make the first move (not that friends should be concerned about making the first move… and that’s all we are, I know that). She opens the door slowly and only just far enough for me to slip into her house. Mansion more like. Whatever possessed her to buy such an enormous home is beyond me. Actually it’s not. The question just needs to be changed to whoever and everything makes sense. Damn it Walsh, stop sounding so bitter! Although… he did cheat on her… AGAIN… I have every right to hate his guts! But that shouldn’t leave me bitter, just angry… crap.

She closes the front door and turns around to look at me. What I see standing in front of me is nothing I’d been expecting to see. She’s wearing her signature tracksuit bottoms, black, and a white tank top. Her hair is in a messy bun, the way she wears it when we’re rehearsing. If I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought she’d been working out. I analyze her face. She has some make-up on but not a lot. I assume it’s what she applied this morning on the plane. She has obviously not been crying though. Something which worries me slightly. I ponder this for a split second while my eyes dart over her face when I hear her whisper.

“Kimberley?”

My eyes find hers and what I see breaks my heart. Her eyes are completely void of spark, fire, love, feeling… I can’t put my finger on it… but I know I can’t stand there any longer without saying anything.

“Cheryl… I…”. What do you say to your best friend who’s just released a press release saying she’s separating from her cheating b*tch of a husband? I close my mouth, not sure of what I want to say, what I should say.

She looks down at her bare feet. Sh*t. Why can’t I be the friend she deserves? Ever since that night. She doesn’t need this from me… not now!

“Would you like a drink?” Cheryl suggests.

“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’ll put the kettle on, you just go sit on the couch and I’ll be right over”. Perfect. I’ll have some time to gather my thoughts while the water boils.

“Oh well actually…” Cheryl’s eyes move around, never settling on mine.

“I meant a real drink. I had enough tea in L.A. People seem to think that’s all we British can get down our throats”.

I giggle and she smiles, looking me straight in the eye. There’s something there… why can’t I figure out what it is?!

“So… vodka? I’m sure there’s some juice left in the fridge if you want to mix it”.

An image pops into my head of a clearly wasted Cheryl, stumbling around the corridor of the L.A hotel, pulling me along to her bedroom, before pushing me up against the wall next to the bed.

I remember vowing to myself that when the jerk cheated again (because I knew he would… and didn’t say anything… what does that make me? The accomplice?) I would throw out all the vodka bottles in the house.

“Uhm Cheryl… “ That’s as far as I get. She’s already walking into the kitchen, not listening to what she knows I want to say.

She’s back in a flash with 2 glasses and a bottle of orange juice. The vodka is already on the table in front of the sofa. The bottle is half empty. HALF EMPTY! My heart skips a beat.