How I Met AmyA Story by WriterMe Reminiscing on how a father met the love of his life.
How I Met Amy “Amy Margold!” I said exasperated as I entered my little daughter’s brightly lit room. “For the thousandth time in the past hour… Go to bed!” I said to her. Amy was lying on her pink sheeted bed, with her elbows propped up and her head was resting on her palms. Her eyes were fixed onto the TV screen in front of her. She was so absorbed in her show that she did not notice me standing there with my arms sternly crossed. I was trying to give her the clear impression that I was really really mad. And she did not do as much as to even look at me. “Bed Time” I repeated a bit more loudly, trying to break her gaze from her TV set. Yes, her TV set. Now which moronic parent would let a six year old have her own TV in her bed room? Oh yeah, that’s right. That would be me. “Now!” I raised my voice with a hint of authority while tapping my foot. Something I learned from my aimless time watching Oprah. This shows the children you are upset with them. It prevents the unnecessary shouting. “Awh, Dad” she whined, flipping onto her back to look at me. “I don’t wanna go to sleep yet”. She rubbed her eyes and prevented a yawn from escaping her lips. Kids. They will still disagree with us no matter how right we actually are. “But you have to” I replied, impatiently picking up the remote and turning the television off. “Why?” she asked and sat up. Looking at me once more; expecting a reasonable answer any parent was suppose to give. Something like ‘You have school in the morning’ or ‘you would get tired’. That’s what a responsible and mature parent would say. But no. All I had to offer was “Because….because I said so!” Nice. So much for being mature. She looked at me and scrunched up her face for a bit before relaxing her cheeks and giving me her famous ‘Please can I get it my way by emotionally blackmailing my father?’ look. I uncrossed my arms and deeply sighed. She succeeded yet again. “Oh, alright” I agreed. “Lights out in 5...” “15 minutes” she bargained. “10” “Deal” Amy then jumped back to her former position and resumed watching TV. I left her room promising myself this would be the last time she would get it her way with her ‘face’. Like the past countless times she wins anyway, but nevertheless I hoped she would be a good girl and go to bed on the time she bargained for. And it would rain money. Twenty quick minutes later I checked her room. To my not so surprising discovery the lights were out alright, but she was still wide awake watching TV. Literal meaning takes too much toll in this household. “Amy...” I said in a warning tone. Once again crossing my arms and knitting my eyebrows while looking at her. “Oh, alright” she sighed and hoped out of bed to turn the television off for the second time. I secretly smiled in triumph. I’ve been practicing that tone in the mirror for quite some time now. And to my surprise it actually works. Now all I have to do is work on my ‘eat you broccoli’ tone.
Bed time has always been like this. I tell her to go to sleep at Amy, unable to stifle a yawn, climbed back into bed dressed in a jasmine flowered shirt that went all the way down to her ankles. Her hair, just like any other day, was a beautiful mess of long copper curls falling down her small shoulders. Absentmindedly, I picked up a brush and began taming her hair. I didn’t want to disturb the natural order of her curls, but Oprah said brushing a girl’s hair at night makes it healthy. And every one knows Oprah is always right. Suddenly, she bursted out into a helpless fit of giggles. I paused and turned to look at her. “What’s so funny?” I asked, puzzled obviously. “Daddy does girly stuff” she replied between her fits of giggling. I frowned a bit. Combing a girl’s hair wasn’t a least bit termed as girly. I should know. “But daddy is a boy” she emphasized the last word with another set of giggles. I couldn’t help smiling at her “Daddy has to do girly stuff” I replied softly, but my smile didn’t last that long. Amy must have noticed my smile fade for a bit. But I tried to smile again anyway. Knowing that I didn’t mean it, she put one of her small hands on my cheeks. A complete contrast of her small and smooth hand, on my rugged face. “Daddy is a good pretend mommy” she whispered looking into my eyes. I smiled genuinely this time on those words. So I play the double role of a father and a mother. Or as Amy calls it pretend Mommy. Granted, in the world eyes it’s the sign of an incomplete family. But in Amy’s eyes, it’s perfect. And that’s all I need. I took her hand and kissed it. And to stop myself from backsliding into gloom, I dropped the brush and began tickling her sides. The soon to-be blue atmosphere turned into a bright yellow hue, filled with Amy’s laughter. Laughing alongside her, I forcefully stopped as soon as I was sure that my glumness wouldn’t return. Oh, and she begged me to stop too. Small beads of tears formed at the edge of her bright earth green eyes and the ghost of her laugh lingered on her lips. “Sto-ohp!” she cried and just when I thought she was finally going to sleep, she attacked me in return. Squirming her hands on my stomache thinking I had the same tickle spots as she did. I laughed anyway, not because of her tickling, but on the thought of a six year olds attempt to tickle a six feet man. Such sudden periods of joy were the only things that prevented us from missing that one person that mattered to us the most. But I didn’t let that thought bother me again. For now I pushed it away to the back of my mind. The forgotten part of my mind, that is. So once she stopped laughing as much as before, she collapsed on the pillow and quickly hid her feet under the comforter before I could tickle them as well. Once she was settled, she laid her head on the pillow, matting her curls into their usual stance. She sighed and closed her eyes as I kissed her forehead. “Good night Doc” my little nick name for her, based on her love for Bugs Bunny. “Good night Pooh” she laughed. Her little nick name for me, based on my… “Hey, why do I get Pooh?” I asked her with mock annoyance. “Because you love honey, silly!” she replied with a grin. I hit my head comically “Ah, my love for honey. Now why didn’t I think of that?” I gave her another quick tickle and stood up and to leave, as well as trying to remember what gave her the idea that I love honey. Anyway, Oprah prime time was waiting. Today’s who was on ‘Temper tantrums of ten year olds’. Amy wasn’t 10 yet, but she was going to be in four more years. And I would stand to be prepared. But before I could exit her room, Amy spoke in a barely audible whisper. “Daddy, are we a broken family?”
I turned around to meet her thoughtful face. At the same time I felt a lump suddenly basking at the pit of my throat. She didn’t look sad or upset. Just a steady look on her face. So before she could make up her mind with her personal answer, I decided to say something “No...” I croaked and cleared my voice “No honey” I said once again, trying to bring assurance in my words. “Who said we were a broken family?” I tried to recall all the moments that I had tried to make Amy feel we were complete. Had I failed? At the same time I also tried to recall if there was a time that I deprived her of anything. “Katy said that…” Amy began to say with an obvious frown. “Never mind what Katy said” I said to her and sat down next to her again. Katy was Amy’s worstest enemies. That girl could make a terrorist cry with her words. Her parents aren’t that different actually. Katy’s dad might be well off in terms of money, but he doesn’t even know the basics of parenthood. Let alone a match of my capable cooking abilities. So when Amy said Katy’s name, I immediately excused her question. I figured that Katy must have said something to Amy about her not having a mother. Whatever that girl said was nothing but a big deal of Bull- “Daddy….” Amy said in that soft voice again. The hesitation was prominent. She seemed to be picking her next words very carefully. “Why did God take Mommy away?” I felt my shoulders droop. The forgotten part of my mind was familiarizing itself again. I took a deep breath and wrapped my arms around her. We don’t usually talk about Amy’s mother’s death. It dampens my mood as well as hers. “Well…” I shuffled a bit till Amy head was resting in my arms, and mine on her pillow. “God has angels right?” I touched her nose with my finger causing her to smile “So when God sent your mom on earth, she was actually and angel in disguise” I was praying that this reason might satisfy her inquisitive nature for the time being. “And then god became lonely so he asked her to come back”. I looked down at her, once again trying to force a smile. But all that came out was a lopsided facial expression. “But Daddy…” Amy said slowly, as if contemplating on what I just told her. “Doesn’t God know that now we are lonely because of him? He is so selfish!” she huffed, pouting her lips. “We are not lonely” I laughed a bit. A six year old cursing the almighty has to be the most innocent sign of blasphemy. “We have each other right?” I hugged her tightly as if proving my point. “Yeah…” her voice trailed away. Another question, I presumed was coming. “Daddy, was Mommy pretty?” she smiled at that question, touching my arm, her eyes urging me to tell her more. The pictures we have of her are never enough. “Yes, Amy” I smiled back, smoothening the curls on the side of her face and tucking some behind her ear. “She was as pretty as you are”. Amy then closed her eyes and tried to stifle another yawn but failed, clearly indicating that question and answer time was officially over. For now. After a brief moment she whispered “Daddy?” her eyes were still closed. “Hmmm?” “I’m glad Mommy and I have the same name” she sighed happily in my arms, and soon enough she was fast asleep.
I looked down once again at her content face and couldn’t help smiling to myself. Amy was so much like her mother in more ways that she knew. Her copper curls, green eyes, they way she pouted, whined, laughed and almost everything she did made me think of her mother, Amy. I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes as Amy slept quietly in my arms. I thought that the ‘angel’ excuse for good for another 3 years. I began believing in it myself. But something about that reason kept bothering me. What about after those three years? When she was 10 or a teenager? Then she would have to know the truth. She would demand for it in fact. Then I won’t have an option. I would have to tell her what happened to her mother. Then, I decided, I would have to start believing in the truth as well. Suddenly Amy whined in her sleep and shifted her arm around my side hence preventing me from leaving without waking her up. Oh well. I kicked my shoes off and nestled myself next to her. I guess I would be sleeping with her tonight. Thank god I bought a big bed for her. I closed my eyes and felt sleep coming in. At the same time I couldn’t help grinning at the remembrance of a memory. How I actually met her. How I met Amy…. “Rylan!” John yelled across the park. “Hey Rylan!” he called out to a seven year old boy sitting next to the sand pits. Rylan Margold turned around from the sand pits and looked around the park, tracing the voice he just heard. The glimpse of another eight year old boy waving his hands caught his attention. John, unlike Rylan, was a bit chubbier and had dirty blonde hair instead of Rylan’s black curls. “Hey John!” Rylan yelled back, as he stood up to dust his shorts of the sand that had stuck to it. John jogged to the place where Rylan was standing and they were soon joined by another boy of the same age. “Hey Caleb” John said to him. A bit out of breath “Sorry I am la-“ “What took you so long?” Caleb asked John impatiently. John has violated the first rule of the Do not be late to clubhouse meetings. “Yeah!” Rylan agreed crossly “We were waiting hours for you to come-” “We need to call an emergency clubhouse meeting!” Caleb butted in. Hours in an eight year olds definition obviously means 10 minutes. Its ‘hours’ considering the fact that you have nothing to do in a bogus park and the ice cream man doesn’t come till two hours later. “Sorry” John continued to breathe heavily “It wasn’t my fault! My mom made me finish the beans of my plate first” he twisted his face at the word ‘beans’ and crossed his arms the way kids do when they were forced to do something they didn’t want to. “So what’s the emergency?” Rylan looked at Caleb, leaving John musing ideas on how to dispose the unwanted beans the next time. “Don’t we have to say the clubhouse oath first?” John asked snapping out of his reverie. “Don’t we have to be in the clubhouse first?” Caleb replied and looked at them as if they said the most idiotic thing in the world. “You have to be inside the clubhouse to say the oath” he reminded them. So the three boys walked over to the corner of the playground. Pushing past some bushes, they arrived at the epitome of their club. The It was a wooden structure built on top of a sturdy oak tree. It had a dinky tire swing hanging on one branch. On another branch, there was a rope used to climb up to their tower. Oh, and it had a wooden ladder stapled to the trunk. That was used when ‘grown-ups’ wanted to climb the tree to call either of the boys. With the East Side Boys’s permission of course. It wasn’t much to look at. But to John, Caleb and Rylan, it was everything. The boys used the rope and shimmied up to the wooden platform covered by four wooden walls and a tin roof. One by one they sat down at their designated places. Caleb sat atop a high, broken wooden chair, Rylan took his place in a worn out recliner and John plopped on a dirty of white couch. Together they recited their oath that involved the following key phrases: “Girls have cooties” “Spiderman is da bomb” “Dairy “Girls are icky” And the last solemn line dedicated to Mister O’Brian. “May Mister O’Brian’s soul rest in peace” Mister O’Brian was the deceased old carpenter who use to live in the outskirts if the neighborhood. He was the main reason the East Side Boy’s clubhouse existed. He built them this holy structure out of the goodness of his heart, so adding his name to their oath was their form of tribute. “Okay, so what’s the emergency Caleb?” Rylan pulled the broken lever to raise his recliner. Caleb was looking down, his eyes fixed to the warped floor boards under him. His blue eyes were inclined in a serious expression. “My s’toopid cousin is in town for summer” he said grimly “My mom said…” he hesitated “She said I have to bring my cousin to the clubhouse so we could play together”. He paused and looked up at the other two boys. “That’s not so bad” Rylan said t him. “You cousin has to say the clubhouse oath first” he smiled deviously “And eat worms!” Eating worms was a sort of an initiation every boy had to do to join the East Side Club. The only boy ever excuse was John. His mom told him he can’t. He was a vegetarian. “But that’s the problem!” Caleb cried his arms raised and dropped in frustration “My cousin is a Girl!” he said the word ‘girl’ like he had developed a bad taste in his mouth. “Ewwh! A girl!” Rylan and John said in unison. “Yeah!” Caleb agreed. The miserable look on his face was inevitable. He put his hand on his chin and assumed the pose of ‘The Thinker’. “But girls aren’t allowed in the clubhouse!” Rylan said to Caleb, who responded by giving him a ‘Gee, ya think?’ look. “And it isn’t going to start now!” John stomped his foot as a sign of authority. “But I hav’ta let her play with me” Caleb continued to whine “My mom said so”. “Tell her to go play with Mary and her Pink Pony friends” John replied. The Pink Pony Girls was the inversed option to the East Side Boys. The group was started by Mary, the most girliest girl of them all, who condemned the East Side Boys for making up the ‘No Girls’ rule. The main difference being their accursed gender, the Girls were not allowed to tread on the Suddenly from the bottom of the clubhouse spoke a slender feminine voice. “Caleb!” the voice called. “Oh,no” muttered Caleb recognizing the voice. He hopped off the wooden chair and climbed down the rope to speak to his mom. Rylan and John quickly went to look outside the window. They saw Caleb’s mom standing next to the tree. Behind Caleb’s mom was a girl that looked about their age. Caleb spoke to his mom with a grim face. His hands were knotting and unknotting themselves behind his back and his feet seemed to be squishing the grass underneath him. After a few painstaking minutes Caleb’s mom left, but the girl seemed to stay behind. Caleb then called Rylan and John down. The two boys regretfully climbed down the rope, almost fully aware of what’s to come. “Guys…” he sighed “This is my cousin, Amy. The one I was telling you about” he introduced them to the girl. “Hi!” Amy greeted them brightly, her eyes were shining in the sun “I am Amy” she jumped next to them, her copper curls bouncing behind her. “Hi Amy….” John grumbled and rolled his eyes. “Hi” Rylan said to her. He looked at her in a very amusing way. His face didn’t seem upset that now their clubhouse is ruined, but more of fascinated. “Why aren’t you wearing a skirt?” he blurted out, amidst his thinking. Amy blinked a couple of times, registering the question posed. “Umm...” she shuffled on her feet, looking down at her navy blue cargo pants “I don’t like skirts. They are very uncomfortable”. Odd query to some, but the girls the East Side Boys know, all wear skirts. Frilly, lacey, pink skirts. It emphasized the full on fact that they were females and totally different from icky, yucky boys. This one, however, seemed to be an exception. “Really?” John asked, his eyes widened at her response. “You don’t like skirts?” he said in amusement. “Nope” she replied easily. “You can’t run, jump or play in the mud with them” she shook her head in disgust. Her hair swayed alongside her. “You play in the mud?” this time it was Caleb’s turn to be fascinated. In their world, girls and mud just didn’t mix. But apparently, another exception was made in Amy’s case. “Yeah, it’s either that or watching Spiderman” Amy replied again. Wondering what’s with all the weird questions. The three boys looked at her with their eyes sized big. “Club Meeting!” Caleb called immediately. “Now!” he ran to the other side of the tree beckoning the other two to hurry. Rylan was closely behind him. “But don’t we have to say-” John began. “NO!” Rylan and Caleb yelled at John in a chorus. “You stay there!” Rylan said to the now, extremely confused Amy, who sat down on the grass with her hand on her chin, clearly wonderstruck. The three boys huddled to form a close circle. “Caleb, your cousin is a boy!” Rylan began to say. “No she isn’t stoopid. Look at her hair!” Caleb replied. “But she likes the same things we do!” John said to the other two. “That still doesn’t make her a boy!” Caleb argued. “But… but… Caleb just look at her!” Rylan forced Caleb’s head to turn. And the three turned around to see Amy scrawling her hands in the mud and making a huge dirt mountain. “Girls don’t do such things!” Rylan said to the both of them “I think…” he began to say carefully. “NO!” Caleb refused, loud enough for Amy to look at them inquisitively, so Caleb quickly hushed his ‘shout’. “No way!” he whispered, still angry. “Why not?” John complained, finally getting the gist of the argument. “Because she is a girl!” Caleb was so annoyed at the thought of allowing a girl to join the East Side Boys. “So? The reason we didn’t let girls join our club was ‘cuz they were so…” John frowned. “Girly!” Rylan continued for him. “But Amy isn’t girly” he looked at Caleb “And you’re the one who said we hav’ta let her play with us” “Oh all right!” Caleb grumbled. Two against one is never done. “But we are so not changing the name to East Side Boys and A Girl”. He stomped towards Amy as if destroying every life force in the ground below his steps, and quickly explained what the club members have decided and he welcomed her to the club. Regretfully. She stood up and smiled. “I didn’t know you guys had a club” she looked around “Where is the clubhouse?” she asked them, her eyes still tracing the perimeters of the park. “Up there” Rylan pointed upwards and Amy’s eyes followed his finger and looked up. “Cool” she breathed. Rylan slowly looked at the clubhouse and down back at her. A smile creped on his face as her green eyes slowly met his. “Let’s go up!” she said quickly, running to the rope and trying to shimmy her way up. “Ha-ha” John laughed tauntingly “You’re a girl so you should take the wooden steps over there” he pointed to the logs stapled to the trunk that made a make-shift ladder. Amy gave him a very sarcastic look and took the rope in her small hands. She grunted and quickly pulled herself up, much to the amazement of the three. “Hurry up, slow pokes” she laughed as the boys followed behind her. Amy looked around the small room and made a face. “This is it?” she asked, expecting more, obviously. “Yeah” Caleb grinded his teeth “This is IT”. “Well what did you expect it to be?” Rylan asked her, genuinely curious. “Well… I dunno… It should have posters and games and stuff” she shrugged her shoulders. “That’s a pretty good idea” John said slowly. “I have a few Spiderman posters we could stick”. “I have some old games I could bring” Rylan suggested. Caleb looked at the other two “What?” he said disgustedly “We are following orders from a girl now?” “Lighten up Caleb” John said coolly. “You have to admit her idea is pretty good” “But she just said it!” Caleb said exasperated “She didn’t suggest it” “Well it looks like a good idea to be suggested” Rylan said calmly as if that had settled the matter. Soon, the clubhouse was filled with the ideas of their newest member, Amy. Not only her ideas, but her character and cheery personality made both Rylan and John grown accustom to her presence. Caleb, on the other hand, took some time to get use to her. Eventually they did appreciate whatever changes she had brought. Now such an act wasn’t going to go unnoticed in their neighborhood. It wasn’t that the Pink Pony Girls let the East Side Boys get away that easily by adding a girl to their club. They began mocking them and at one point, tried to convince Amy to join their club instead. Rylan was the only one out of the three who wasn’t bothered about them. He knew Amy wasn’t that kind of girl to join such a club. And he was right. Amy time and again, through the entire, summer refused their proposal. Each time with lesser patience. She even helped them with some pretty good pranks they pulled on them. And get grounded eventually. But since no one made the satisfaction of a prank sweeter than Amy, it was totally worth it. Every day of summer now became something new thanks to her. She brought on new ideas and rules the boys could do and follow. She made up new games and tricks the boys could play. The news of Amy’s character flew far and wide to the other boys of the neighborhood. When they noticed how much fun the East Side Boys had, they wanted to join the club. Hence the number grew. The clubhouse, also, grew crowded. The wooden structure was nothing more than a building now, as the entire club revolved around Amy and her ideas. The girl always brought something unexpected everyday, to such and extend that even Caleb didn’t mind her anymore. In fact, he prided himself in calling her ‘his’ cousin. Summer quickly flew and Amy’s day of leaving grew closer. Though the other boys would live on the ideas she left behind, there was just one boy that would actually miss her being there in person. And that was no other than our Rylan. Rylan Margold is said to be the kid whom everyone likes. Aside from his naughty antics and witty remarks he was also considered ‘cute’ in the eyes of the Pink Pony Girls and also, surprisingly the wisest among his two friends. If there was a problem to be solved, Rylan was the one to find out the solution for it. Parent use to say too much goes on in that seven year old brain of his and it wasn’t his fault for having so much insight. But then, when Rylan had a problem of his own, where would he go? Answer, the roof of course. Rylan is not allowed to sit on the little slant of roof that sticks out beneath his window. If his mom caught him today, he would be grounded for sure. But that never prevented him from sitting there anyway. That roof was his little thinking space. “Hmm…” Rylan said to himself, gazing at the now partially setting sun. He was thinking about Amy again. That girl had something that triggered his little seven year old mind as fascinating. He couldn’t explain what it was actually. At the same time, he couldn’t explain why he liked that ‘bit’ of enthrallment. She most definitely stated, and gave full justice to the word tomboy. She was the center of attention of the club and had won the hearts of almost every parent in the neighborhood with her smile. She always had this magical look in her eyes that made her every word alluring. It made Rylan think… What was she? From the day she joined the club, Rylan found himself constantly with Amy; supporting her whacky ideas, playing her favorite games, listening to everything she had to say and sitting next to her on Caleb’s porch, waiting for the ice cream man to arrive. All the parents use to say that Rylan and Amy were practically a jig-saw puzzle waiting to be fixed. His calm composure was made up by her hyperactivity. Her constant jabbering was heard by his listening abilities. His frequent mood swings was differed by her cheery attitude. And her short temper was made up by his peace-making skills. So to put it in the words of John “It’s like he is the peanut butter and she is the jelly!” They were inseparable. They were a pair. But that wouldn’t be it anymore when she left. Rylan’s deep thoughts were ruined when he heard something. He snapped out of whatever he was thinking and crawled to the edge of the roof. There, hanging on the branch of the apple tree next to the roof was none other than Amy, trying to climb on to the roof edge. “A little help here!” she cried out to Rylan who hastily stuck his hand out for her to reach. She swung around the branch and landed with a soft ‘thud’. The smile on her face was evident. She looked at Rylan who was also smiling back. That always happened when she was around. And he still doesn’t know why. “What are you doing here?” she asked him as carefully she sat down next to him. “John and Caleb were looking for you” she folded her knees and rested her hands on her lap. “They were playing tug-of war with a-” she paused when she caught sight of the orange shaded sky “Pretty” she commented. Rylan didn’t say anything, he looked down instead. He wasn’t the talkative one, she was. But for some reason today he was quiet for a different reason altogether. A few moments of silence passed between them. “I’ll miss you too, you know” Amy said to him, answering his unheard question. This made Rylan look up. “You will?” he said, surprised. “Mmhmm” Amy smiled “You’re my best friend” she punched him lightly on his arm, expecting a friendly punch in return. “Of course I will miss you”. But all she got was a huge grin. Best friend. That word made Rylan beam. He liked the sound of that. “We wont be best friends anymore when you leave” Rylan pointed out to her. He looked at the sunset and immediately frowned. He has still has other best friends, John and Caleb and he sees them everyday. According to Rylan, best friends are those people you see everyday. “We would still be best friends you know…” Amy said thoughtfully “So what if we can’t see each other? We can’t be best friends? That’s just so dumb”. Then she laughed at the thought of something. “What’s so funny?” Rylan questioned her, trying to find the comical situation in this. “My Mom says friends are friends no matter where you are” she tilted her head, trying to remember something. “Aunty Emily is her best friend and she lives in “Well, your Mom’s best friend visits her often” Rylan replied “You won’t visit me anymore” “Of course I will!” she shook her head “Who says I won’t? My Dad would want to visit his brother. And I don’t think Caleb’s dad would mind” “Really?” Rylan asked, his voice sounded faintly hopeful. “Yeah!” Amy replied. “You promise?” he asked her again. “Yes Ry…” Amy sighed Boys are so reprimanding. “Well… okay...” he wasn’t sure. But when it came to Amy, he was ready to take whatever she had to offer.
My eyes suddenly opened themselves to display Amy’s room, bathed in a dull yellowish glow from her night lamp. I sat up and realized that I was breathing very heavily. As if I ran out of breath for a few moments and I was gasping for more. ‘It was a dream’ I thought to myself. ‘Just a really good dream’. Amy’s small arms were still wrapped around me and her slow breaths told me that she was in deep sleep. I gently picked her arm and immediately put it around a stuffed rabbit lying next to her. When I tried to get out of bed, she groaned a bit, turned to the other side and went back to dreamland. I then tiptoed out of her room, shut the door gently behind me and went downstairs.
Coffee has never appealed to me a drink that was used to calm me down. It used to make me sleepy if not anything else. But I did put a pot to boil anyway. In hopes of it making me go back to sleep. To that wonderful dream of meeting my Amy, the East Side Clubhouse and everything else included in the phrase ‘the good old days’. While the pot was on the stove, I decided to go outside for a while. Even thought it was mid April, the night air seemed inviting enough as I stepped out to our back yard porch and sat down on the wooden steps. The air, as suspected was quiet and the steady chirping of crickets played in the background. I looked up at the sky and began thinking about something. Amidst my thought, I came across a memory of a night just like this…
“ “That’s the ice cream I want” Amy said to me, while still trying to wake me up. I yawned some more as I felt around my side table for what I think might be the digital clock. I finally grabbed a hold of it and brought the glow-in-the-dark numbers closer to my eyes. “Its I groaned before shoving the pillow in my face. I wanted to go back to sleep. “Please?” I heard Amy’s muffled voice through the pillows. “Pretty please” Oh, no. Not that tone. I know that tone. I looked at her again and without a doubt, there it was. Her all famous, ‘Please can I get it my way by emotionally blackmailing my husband’ look painted on her face. I sighed and cursed under my breath while throwing the blanket to the side and getting out of bed. Stupid women pregnancy cravings. “Five months” I told myself while grabbing the blue cotton bedspread from the closet. “Five more months and I won’t have to deal with this anymore”. I continued to grumble and whine as I went outside, to our backyard. Countless number of times have I done the most outrageous things for her. And the most annoying part is they all involve me getting up in the middle of the night. Last week, she woke me up at Yes, you heard me. I made apple pie for my dear pregnant wife, till the break of dawn. And that’s not even the worst part. When I finally made it for her, she was fast asleep and refused to get up to eat any of it. My office had a field day when I told them why I was late for work that day. And now, she not only made me go to the nearest grocery to get her the pint of ice cream, (Which was happily unavailable. So that made me drive to a farther shop in nothing but a faded Lord of the Rings t-shirt and Daffy Ducks shorts, to get it) but now she wanted to sit outside and look at the sky for the reasons of ‘it’s a beautiful night’ and ‘I just feel like it’. Stupid pregnancy insensible wants. They should be sued. I wonder if there is a law for that… I walked out to the lawn and laid out the blanket on the dewy grass. Amy sat down in the middle and stretched her swollen legs in front of her. She had her triumph, mixed satisfied look on her face. She got what she wanted after all. Now doesn’t she always? Despite myself, I was smiling at the sight of her happily pigging away with ice cream. All this while, I could never imagine her as a mother figure. Heck, I could never imagine myself as some one’s father either. We were practically kids ourselves. Just stuck in an adult’s body, I suppose. We couldn’t think of ourselves doing parental stuff like, tell our kids to not fight over the remote, but we still could. Or, telling them to not jump on the couch, while we still can. Nevertheless the word: ‘parents’ did excite us in some way. And sometimes, I figured, even though we use to think that we might not turn out be the best parents in the world, fate does seem to play about in some very unique ways. Just look at us now, Amy is 5 months due and I am just a grumpy waiting father to-be. Maybe this part of our fate might be an excellent addition to our lives. Or rather, it was getting ready to be. Amy’s usual fair complexioned face was stained pink most of the time. I often catch her looking at herself in the dressing room mirror. Posing from all the sides of her stomach, while trying one set of clothes after another. Her falling into a small periods of utmost happiness when she realizes she still fits into some of her clothes. Or her sudden periods of gloom when her favorite denim skirt refuses to button up. To cure herself, she visits our half made nursery and just stands there on the doorway, imagining all the things that had to do with the baby coming. And nothing would perk her up more. Sometimes I would just watch her, and sometimes I would walk up to her and silently hug her from behind, as both of us stand there looking into all the empty spaces of the room, wondering about the new life to come. Our new future. “Why are you smiling to yourself like a lunatic?” Amy brought me back to reality and the sight of her still stuffing herself with the object of her desire- for tonight. I wanted to tell her, but then it would just make her even more self-conscious about her ‘bump’. “Nothing” I was yawning again as I sat down next to her. Sleep was definitely inviting me and there was nothing I wanted more but to give in. Honestly. All I wanted was a good nights, restful sleep. Was that so hard to ask for? Amy stuck a pink plastic spoon in my face, offering me some of the brown goop that just made my stomache lurch. I nodded my head, refusing it and laid down instead. No harm in catching 40 winks out here. “Wake me up when you are ready to go inside” I told her, feeling completely disoriented. “Thanks Ry” Amy whispered, meaning the ice cream hunt I did for her. I smiled lazily “Sure Hun. Your welcome” And soon after that, I collapsed into blissful sleep. “Hey Ry?” Or maybe not. “Rylan, are you asleep?” I thought behind my closed eyelids that if I remained still and not utter a word, she would leave me alone. I was the harmless human and she was the bear. “Ry?” she confirmed, and just when I thought she would presume I was asleep, I heard her sight. Yes, that sigh. The ‘woe is me’ sigh. I moaned silently, ‘oh well’ I told the screaming voice in my head begging to doze off. ‘I would live to sleep another day anyway’. “Yeah?” I replied, immediately regretting opening my mouth. Now I expected her to drone on about her wondrous thoughts and ideas about our lives. It’s this thing she had when the atmosphere was perfect. Let it be under the rain, on the beach during sunset or like now, underneath the star filled sky. Something she always used to do since we were little kids. Think, wonder, and muse, about so many things. Let it be new or old trivial ones. But right now, I only had one thing to say to her. Sleep. “Where’s the Big Dipper?” she asked innocently. I sighed before pointing out the blazing ball of burning gas in the sky. “There, the biggest, brightest star in the sky”. I found myself smiling again. Star gazing, yet another childhood thing we use to do. “It’s weird” Amy said, as she stuck another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth. “What’s weird?” I asked her. “How things so far away can make you feel so very small” She looked up thoughtfully. Completely absorbed into yet another theory she must have made up about the stars. I on the other hand, snickered. “It makes you feel small?” I nudged her stomach. She gave me a very dirty look in response. “No” she said crossly “I mean, when you’re wondering about- Oh!” she suddenly gasped and her hands flew around her stomach. “What?” I asked, slightly alarmed and sitting up. “N-Nothing, sorry” she let go oh her stomach and leaned back. “I thought I felt something” “Oh, did she move” I asked, curious. “She? Who she?” “She as in the baby, Amy” I sighed and pointed at her abdomen. “How can you be so sure it’s going to be girl, Rylan?” she shook her head “The ultra sound didn’t say anything about the baby’s gender” “I know it’s a girl” I said, smiling at her “I can feel it” Amy laughed in response. “You can ‘feel’ it?” she laughed even more. “Makes me wonder who’s carrying the baby in this family” “Oh ha-ha” I said, rolling my eyes at her. “Speaking of which, if you’re so sure its going to be a girl then what have you decided to name her?” Amy said, while scrapping off the ice cream stuck to the bottom of the cup. “Marie Antoinette” I replied confidently. One of my favorite people in history. She was gorgeous, powerful and a queen. Just like how our little baby would be. She looked at me in disbelief. “Do you want your new born child to hate you?” The sarcasm in her tone was obvious. “Okay then” I counter acted “What do you want to name her?” I was slightly annoyed, I had been thinking long and hard about that name. “Amy” she lovingly touched her stomach. “But that’s your name” I was slightly confused. “Why would you want to name her ‘your’ name?” “I just thought it to be interesting if the child and mother did have the same name” she continued to caress her stomache. “Slightly ego centric don’t you think so?” “I don’t care” she looked at me “Her name is going to be Amy and that’s final” “You heard that?” I whispered to Amy’s stomach “Your mother will be naming you after her” I smirked looking at her “I’m her favorite parent already” “Oh!” Amy gasped again, holding her stomach. Her cheeks were flushed and she suddenly began taking in deep breaths. “Amy!” I asked her urgently “Amy, what’s wrong?” Now I was on my knees. The baby must have done something. “Do I call the doctor? Do I-” my mind was going through various medical procedures. But they were all useless now as the only thing I knew was the Heimlich maneuver, which was obviously non-applicable right now. “Ry…” she whispered, her tone trying to calm me down. “Give me your hand” but before I could react, she already snatched my hand and placed it on the left side of her belly. “She kicked” Amy replied, wonderstruck. “Our baby moved” she whispered, slightly amazed. Tears began forming on the side of her eyes. I glanced back and forth between Amy and her stomach. I was about to ask her on what she was talking about. But before I could say anything, I felt something vibrate. As soft as a drum beat, right under my hand. She did move. “She likes the sound of your voice” Amy smiled though her tears. “Say something Ry…” I gulped. “Hi Amy” I was talking to my wife’s stomach “Hello? Testing 1…2…3…” Amy laughed and again I felt something move under my hand. I could feel tears forming at the edge of my eyes too. At that moment we felt something we never felt before. Such a simple moment meant so much. There were no words to describe how that felt. Something magical, something real. Miraculous. Complete. So many things from something so small. Was this normal? Amy must have felt the same way, but something much stronger. I envied her at that time, to be able to be so close to the proof of our love. Our baby, she never felt so close to us as she did then. “Hey Ry?” Amy looked me, her hand still firmly on mine as we shared this moment together. “Hmm?” “What if Amy was a boy?” I laughed at the thought. “Don’t worry” I assured her “She’s going to hate us both for naming her the wrong gender” Amy… That night was just the same as this one was. The only difference was that, unlike that night, there was nothing special about tonight. The silence of the night’s air just reminded me of the cruel fact that now, I am inconceivably alone. Maybe the little Amy, sleeping upstairs was right, God is selfish. He took my Amy from the people that loved her for his own selfish means. I heard the whistle of the pot of coffee blow. That was what made me go back inside, leaving the ghostly image of me and my Amy sitting on the lawn, drenched in our lasting moments of happiness. I took my mug of coffee and went to the living room. A weird impulse made me light the fireplace for absolutely no reason at all. As I watched the dancing flames, something came over me. I thought I was mad, purely upset. But at the same time, I realized I was sad as well. Every part of me hurt when I thought of her. I still refused to face the fact that she was gone. Even after six years, I still refused to believe that the person I loved more than everything was not in my life anymore. I went to the corner of the room and looked through the pictures that were sitting there. Trying to grasp yet another piece of memory. Anything that would remind me of her, anything at all. I was desperate now, scared in a way. While going through some things, I came across an old photo album. I carefully pulled it out from the corner of the small library, blew the dust of it and carried it back to my armchair. It didn’t have a cover title like the rest. It was old and forgotten and the edges were completely yellow. Then something suddenly struck me about this book. I remember this book. We made when we first moved into this house. This book consisted of everything that brought our life story together. Hesitantly I turned the cover to the first page. There, looking back at me was none other than the Amy sleeping upstairs? Well let wonders be. This was my Amy, back in the East Side Clubhouse days. It amazed me to find the uncanny resemblance between mother and daughter. Made me laugh at a particular thought; people say that the person pregnant women think about most, affect their baby in many ways. Now since Amy, my daughter, looks like my wife. Does this mean that the person my wife thought about the most was…? Herself? I laughed and shook my head. Another silly myth. Of course not. She wasn’t a least bit vain. Bringing my eyes back to the picture I looked at Amy’s partially toothless grin and her arm casually slung around a boy next to her. My seven year old self. Below the picture was a small note written in Amy’s curly handwriting: “Amy and Rylan, our first summer” I turned the page and there was yet another picture of Amy and me. But this time we were joined by two other familiar faces, and a new canine friend. “Caleb, his new puppy Chelly, Amy, Rylan and John- East Side Clubhouse” This I remember was taken when we were 10. That summer was when we went to the lake, where Amy and I fell into a bush of poison ivy and scratched ourselves to oblivion. On the next page, to my utter surprise was a picture of us yet again, but this time we has red blotches and Calamine lotion all over us. I read the caption below and smiled: “The poison ivy incident” And with that, every page made me laugh at the funny memories, frown at all the humiliating ones, smile and also silently teared. I never knew Amy filled this book entirely. Complete with our most dear memories. The year she moved into my neighborhood, her first day at Palm Grove High, and the time we played the nasty trick on the Pink Pony Girls and got grounded. There was this one picture which was my favorite. Captioned: “The first and last prom- Rylan and Amy” That was the night that I played something more that the mere role of a friend. I took her to our school prom as her first official date. That was also the night I took her to our secret spot on the beach and told her that I loved her. The best night of our lives. As I flipped through the pages, more emotions balled up inside me on recalling everything Amy and I had. We chose the same college, did the same degrees and then came the happy and joyful wedding pictures. At first, the flash backs consoled me. It made me sure that she was still an important part of my life and I would never dare to forget her. As I turned the pages remembering one piece of our life to another, it brought me relief in some way. But now with the turn of every page, my heart heaved. The book grew lesser and lesser in pages and I began to realize that I was at ending ‘our’ life story. Fear crept back into me immediately and I quickly shut the book before reaching the last few pages. I put the album aside and took a deep breath of air. Amy was everything I wanted right now, but she was also the only thing I couldn’t have. She was gone, forever. What was I to do? Forget her? Move on? No. I can’t. You cannot forget a person who has shared most of their lives with you. That person becomes a part of you. You’re everything. It makes me wonder, how do people do it? Fall in love, get their hearts broken, and fall in love again? How do they deal with sharing a part of themselves with people knowing that it will never last? Repeatedly put their hearts through so much, just to repeat it again, till they find the right one. Amy was my only love, and perhaps I might not find anyone like her, but does that give me rights to replace her with someone else? I put my fingers against the side of temples and closed my eyes. Why was I thinking about this again? Caleb, John, and many others told me to re-marry. But I refused. I won’t marry someone I know that could never replace her. ‘What about Amy?’ they asked me. ‘She needs a mother too, Rylan’ I sighed at my selfishness. But before my thoughts could carry me any further, a soft voice pealed behind me. “Daddy?” I turned to look at Amy’s small face peeking out from the side of the doorframe. “Yes, Amy?” I beckoned her with my hands. She came to me and settled on my lap. “I thought you were still in my room” Amy rubbed her eyes, signifying that she got up directly from bed to see where I was. When Amy dropped her hands, she looked at me with a very strange face, almost pensive. She titled her head and sucked in her cheeks as if musing about something. “What are you thinking about?” I asked her, almost amused. Must be interesting to know what goes on in that six year old head of hers. Instead of shrugging the question away, like she usually does, Amy gently threw her arms around my neck and gave me a very surprising hug. “I have the best Daddy in the world” she whispered in my ears, her arms still wrapped carefully around my neck. I remember my mouth open, as if to say something. But unable to find any other word, I hugged her in return. “I love you too, Amy” I replied. She let go and gave me a very mischievous smile. “So since I am not sleepy anymore….” Amy grinned, “Can I watch Tv?” Amy, expecting me to be angry, was quite surprised when I hugged her and laughed. And then said something to her that no parent should ever say to a six year old… “Do you want to go out for ice cream?” You could practically hear the ‘joy to the lord’ chorus playing around her head. Her eyes grew wide, almost with shock and partially because I made a six year olds dream come true. Ice cream at She nodded her head vigorously and ran upstairs to grab a jacket. As I watched her go, something else came to me. My wife was gone, yes, but she left me a wonderful gift to continuously remind me how to remain happy. Parts of me still strongly wished she were here with me, to venture into the unknown realms of parenthood. But parts of me were almost as glad that now I get to learn how to do it on my own. On my own… “Let’s go!” Amy said happily, running down the stairs, over to the side of the front door. My wife will never be forgotten…. “Let’s go” I repeated as we made our way to the car. She’ll always be there… “What kind of ice cream do you want?” I asked Amy as I turned the ignition on. With me… “Umm…” Amy tapped her finger on the side of her chin. With us… They held her breath, and grinned at me “ My Amy. © 2009 WriterMeAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
Stats
439 Views
5 Reviews  Shelved in 1 Library
Added on September 2, 2009Author
WriterMeIndiaAboutYou know its funny how I have been on this site for nearly three years and never bothered to change the About me? And the funniest part if it all was how you read your before About me and smile at how.. more..Writing
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
