Amelia's Lawyer and Keane

Many years ago, before Amelia knew that a Xander existed for her, she was a college student. Her passion was writing and mostly everyday she would detail in her journals events and moments past. Her hair was pink and her clothes were eighties meets bohemian. Her nails were painted in neon colors and some of them were starting to chip off.  She drank coffee and never smoked at the same time. She was happily blissful in her own colorful world.

Her major was journalism and her minor literature. It truly was a dream for her to invest time studying and preparing herself professionally in the written word. She took classes from investigative journalism to the rather progressive history of love lectures. The last one is still a big question mark in her mind. Who takes a class on the history of love letters? Well, people like her. People that marched to their own tune and painted with diverse color palettes. 

Amelia's mobile phone at the time was a metallic pink motorola razor and she thought she was cool. She never had an ipod so her music she listened through a cd player with headphones. Pretty progressive, of course. Her favorite band at the time was Keane and she had someone to blame for that. She blamed a certain lawyer with a stick up his ass.

Now now, Amelia  was always what you could describe as a "semi good girl". At least her face projected a certain naive quality, however, her mind? Her real thoughts? Not so cookie cutter. There would come a time in the future when that battle for her mind will drive her to break rules and start again. But this was not the time. Not yet. 

Back to the lawyer. This person was what  you called typically predictable. His friends never changed and his manners where always perfection. His voice was soft spoken and nostalgic, at times sort of creepy. He was eight years older than Amelia and had his entire life planned, or as it seemed...planned for him. His eyes were the color of coffee, the kind they sell at Starbucks that has all sorts of crap and 1% real java. Dark straight hair that fell softly near his long eyelashes and he seriously needed a tan. Amelia, on the other hand hated the idea of living such a constricted life between office cubicles. She wanted to live each day as her last, so she really had no idea what attracted her to him. Him with lawyer words and lawyer manners. 

Yet, some nights together they would walk the streets of Old San Juan, taking in the history of every corner and meditating in silence. They never held hands and they hardly embraced. Theirs was a story of strange companionship. He wanted to be free spirited like her and to actually be brave enough to act spontaneous. She saw in him the stillness her passionate soul needed from time to time, that silence in between musical notes. 

The one thing they shared with great passion was music. They loved listening to "Keane"songs and would spend hours on the phone analyzing the meaning in their lyrics. When they talked about love, it was always with a  quote from Keane. 

One night during those walks in the historical city, Amelia and lawyer sat near the water. This time they were listening from his ipod the song "Love is the end". She turned to him with familiarity as she listened in. Perhaps, this could work. Perhaps, he wont bore me to death. Perhaps, love is really the end, she thought as her eyes gazed at him.

Lawyer also turned to her side and his eyes were brilliantly black. He smiled faintly in a way that you would almost miss it. He reached with his hand and stroked softly her right cheek and trailed down to her hand. The touch in itself felt so foreign to her. And with his fingers caressing her hand, he waited for her to respond. 

Amelia found herself unable to do anything at all. Here was cryptic lawyer with his fond for health foods touching her. She smiled in a matter that said "dude, what are you doing?". Lawyer then took the lyrics from her left hand and read out loud.

"It wont come again because love is the end. Oh no my friend. Best not pretend because love is the end". 

"What do you think about these words, Amelia?"
"Two friends finding love. It's pretty obvious Law". 

Lawyer chuckled low and removed his complete hand from hers. He realized then that she did not understand what he meant. And she understood that she was not ready yet. He stood up first and helped her get up from the ground. It was a november night so the city was decorated in holiday lights. The sea breeze ruffled her pink hair, hair that secretly drove him wild; well as wild as he could possibly muster. They were facing each other and the song was still in their ears. 

The music was ending, the last words were sung. "Don't say those words" echoed through. The last note was played and Lawyer cupped her chin in his hands forcing her to look at him. 

"There's a fire in you Amelia. Don't ever lose it, or You and I will be at war". For the first time there was passion in his eyes and fierceness in the sound of his voice. Her breathing became agitated as she was clearly unaware that fire existed in him. More so, she never knew that passion was exactly what she needed as well. 

His head lowered closer to her face and she was almost certain he would kiss her. He studied her face and his lips rested on her forehead. All the while he sang her name over and over. 

"Amelia, Amelia...love is the end. And someday someone will be lucky to be burned by your fire." 

"Law, you seriously watch too many melodramatic movies. I am not even invested in the nearest future of two weeks from now, what makes you so sure I want to know about a future person?"

Law messed around with her hair and said "You will see". They slightly embraced their way back to the car.
It was the last time Amelia saw him, and the stillness consumed her. But Law was right. It would take her seven years to actually feel that way. 

¿Are you counting? 


 

 

Xander and Amelia: Fire and Water plus a phone call

Amelia had been up since the early morning. She peeked through her window and stared at the moving trees and the colors of the sunrise. And slowly, the sun came by taking away the sounds of night. Her mind kept playing to last night, oh what a night. She had been singing, she remembered the neon lights, laughter of slightly tipsy co workers and expectant smiles. She remembered him. She could never forget him. 

Her collection of books had become a hazard in her room. She piled stacks of diverse literature and each one had a memory of its own. From victorian classics and George Orwells's "Animal Farm"  to the rather modern erotic novels, yes Amelia's taste was broad. No matter how shattered her hopes have been, she always had her books, her mind, her paintings. Most receantly she was feeling the angst of a relationship gone dry. Eric, sweet innocent Eric had broken her heart more than anyone before. He was her best friend for years. She dreamed of a future and he played along until it was too much to ask from him. His absence only made her yearn for something life changing. She didnt know it then, but life was preparing her for fire.

In the middle of her organizing her young adult fiction novels  she recieved a phone call from an unknown number. Normally she would never bother with answering these types of calls, but something made her think she had absolutely nothing to loose. Eric was gone, Mia was dead. "What the hell?"She mumbled through her breath as she answered.

The instant she heard his voice she knew exactly who he was. For some incredibly stupid reason she started to fix her hair and spray some citrus splash on her skin. His voice made her glow with happiness and she felt so silly by it. She had been wearing sweats and a white tank top that said "Nice Junk". she wondered if he would approve of her brand of humor.

Almost instantly in the conversation, Xander and Amelia talked so honestly and open. No false pretenses, no covering up. She knew his secret and He knew hers. He learned that she  liked to paint when  nostalgia took hold of her  and she learned that he lived everyday like his last. At times Amelia would look at herself in the mirror just to see that-wait a minute- yes, she was smiling. She was happy Xander had called her. But then the dreaded question came up.

"I see Aidan walked you to your car a few times, is He your boyfriend?" Please say no. Please say no.
"Um, no he is not. I have a boyfriend- ah, hmm well had". What the hell was that? What is wrong with me? .
"Well which one is it? Had or have?" Please say had, please say had! 
"Oh, had. Long story. Not my particular favorite subject" Ok, that wasnt so difficult. It's really over.
 "Oh sure I understand " I have a shot! 

Xander was a man of goals and he had his mind set on Amelia since that day at the parking lot. She was not the type of woman he typically dated. Then again his typical taste had given him enough  baggage claim. His  intrigue for Amelia was beyond anything physical or emotional. He couldnt explain how in one conversation he felt himself falling for her mind, the sound of her voice, her convictions. He felt himself changed by her.

Amelia was a natural skeptical when it came to love. Sure she had felt the butterflies but she had an edge to her. Love had not been too kind either. Or was it really love? A love that changes you. No, she had never experienced that. She had never been drawn to men like Xander either, all sociable and expressive. No, this was something new. Her initial reaction has always been to just walk away. Too much fire and she was too much of water. But his voice, deep and rustic...she needed more of it. His eyes were of her favorite color: Amber. His hair the color of sunset. She wondered if she could paint a portrait of him. He was like a work of art. All in one conversation.

They were complete opposites, yes anyone could have told you that.
They were in for a surprise.

And ironically, Monday's  became their favorite day of the week.


 

Amelia's Letter

Oh, so this must be how it feels. I have often heard my girlfriends speak of such silent endings with despair. This is how it feels, this calmness. This is how it feels to me when I lost you. Nothing. Empty sounds. Vacant looks and glares. 

I lost you the moment I met you. Remember that day? Place crowded with expectations, me being the weird one, you being the loud one. Yes, I remember how drawn I felt to your light, the sound of your laughter, the color of your eyes. The color of autumn. Truth is, at the risk of sounding extremely stupid...I could have stared into those amber eyes forever. 

I lost you that day, because I was afraid of loving you. I was scared to take a leap of faith and begin again. But I did, for a while. For a while I knew the meaning of a love so strong that it changes you. Your fire, your intensity, even your voice consumed me. I felt transformed. I felt more of me, so many hidden feelings were exposed and I felt naked, and I loved it. But, how can I tame a fire? Can it ever be controlled? 

You. Me. Us. It made sense. For a while. I am lying right now, as I write this I realized that I am hiding once more. You and I made absolutely no sense, because it never was about logic or arithmatic's. Truth is, we drove each other insane. But in that storm, there were moments of true calm when we would look at each other and find peace in our love. We were each others balance. And I loved you.

 Yes, I loved even the bad in you, the sorrows, your eccentric past  and your inability for forgive and forget. So again at the risk of sounding like a fool, because I was a fool...I still love you. I don't ever want to stop loving you, even when I can. As crooked as you are, you are the missing piece in my puzzle. 

I lost you the moment we kissed. The moment we embraced each other. I lost you the moment you saw me cry. I lost myself the moment I stopped  seeing what you saw in me. If this is our story, then I don't want to turn the page, I don't want to finish it. 

Do you?

Love,

Amelia

Diary Entry May 3rd 2007 Coming Home

Diary,

  I am sitting on a bench on the Braddock Metro Station. The skies are still gray. It shouldnt surprise me, however, they still do. These gray skies, can there be any beauty in them? I stare at the many faces in the metro and cant help but wonder. what are they thinking of? What do they see in me? It's amazing how writing in a desolate bench can help sort out my feelings. Life here in D.C. has clearly taught me to be more independent.  I am alone here, without my family, my friends, my boyfriend...or so it seems soon to be ex boyfriend (yes, I told him about the Kiss). It seems that within these solitary moments, I have gotten a glimpse of what my life would be out here in the open, in the unknown. 

I have known myself more than I did before. I responded and did certain things, that I probably would never have done in Puerto Rico. The weird work relationship with Ulysses is probably one of them. Hanging out with him and other friends till the early hours of the morning drinking wine and  talking about film making...and all sorts of makings. 

If anyone from my home would catch a view of this new me, would they recognize me?  In a few days I will return and its strange how home to me is D.C. Home to me is now snow, ice, Cherry Blossoms, Politics, blackmail, media, kissing Ulysses. It makes you wonder where was God in all of this? He was never to far for me to hear, but I do recall closing the door. I guess, too ashamed to hear myself pray. 

Which version of myself do I want to keep? Oops...lots of movement from the metro. I hate it how its almost always underground. Brings out the claustrophobic in me... The Metro Diaries... has potential. 

What if this was really me all along? What if always innocent "me" was just a cover up?  I am coming home diary, but what am I coming home to? I keep remembering Ulysses last night. How he wanted to hold me and touch the curls in my hair. He didnt want to let go, and all along he kept saying how much he will miss me. He said "Dont go, I want to be with you". His eyes, something I will always miss. His eyes are different, they look at me differently. Like an artist he sees me strong, willful, beautiful... not like Jared who thinks I'm a wilted flower. 

Even for all his words, I cant seem to see myself with neither of them. No Jared, no Ulysses. I just see myself for this time, and I know it might seem careless, cold and cruel. But it's me for now. I let Ulysses go, without a kiss...he looked with so much longing. But I didnt respond. Tomorow, I am coming home. Diary, tell me, what awaits for me tomorow? 

Sincerely,
ArwenLyn