Amare Amelia

(c) 2002 alison

Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be in love. To live life knowing that someone loves you, through and through, no matter what. To have that stupid goofy smile permanently plastered on your face as your eyes glaze over, thinking of that special someone who makes your insides giddy.

As I glance across to Leylu and Edward, smooching and fondling each other on the couch -my couch- I begin to think that maybe, just maybe, love isn't for me.

"What did you think when you first saw me?" Peter asked, leaning back in his chair and adjusting his legs so his groin had copious amounts of room to breathe. The body language of a powerful male. I remain in the same position.

I shrug. "You had worms or something like that," I replied truthfully, remembering him constantly squirming about in the orange plastic chair he gave up for me.

Obviously not the response he was expecting, Peter half-laughed, half-choked on his cappuccino. "Seriously?"

I nod. "Mm-hm. You never kept still. Always moving. Always." I watch as his right hand rapidly taps to an unidentifiable beat against the table. He always found it impossible to do nothing, even for ten seconds to watch the sun set.

"Oh."

"Why?"

"Just curious, really. Know what I was thinking about you?"

"No."

"I remember I wanted to know what was making you so sad."

"Sad?"

"I thought you were sad. Initially."

"How's that?"

"You never talked."

"So?"

"So I just thought you were sad. But, of course, I was wrong."

"You were."

"Very wrong."

"Very."

He smiled, flashing his perfect teeth before taking another sip of the milky coffee.

Perhaps if I trusted people more, I wouldn't be in this situation. Perhaps I'd be someone entirely different than the person I am now. That thought scares me. I know who I am, and yet I'm a complete mystery. Or maybe I just don't know who I am and like to think I do to separate me from everyone else searching for themselves. Make me feel more individually unique than psychotic loner.

Amelia come home. But where exactly is home?

I wish I was a bird so I could fly away from here.

"You need a man," Leylu said, taking a bite of her apple while turning the page of her glossy magazine of pretty people.

I glance up from my bowl of dry rice cereal. I hated breakfasts. "What?"

"You...need...a...man. And I'm going to get you one. You can't sit around the house for the rest of your life, you know. University's for experiencing new things. So tonight. You, Edward and me are going to this cocktail party they're hosting. Alright?"

She wasn't even looking at me, let alone awaiting a response. Instead, I reach across the table and turn on the portable radio. Tainted Love plays into my ears. How appropriate.

"Amelia."

I wish I was asleep. I wish I wasn't naked.

"Amelia."

"Yeah?" I said, ripping my gaze from the burning candles at my left to the perfect naked body at my right.

"I've been trying to get your attention for ages," Peter said. "You alright?"

"Mm." I turned back to the dripping wax. The shapes it made on my bedside dresser were beautiful. If only I didn't have to scrape it off and throw it out later.

"Talk to me."

"About what?" I whispered.

"Anything. You know I hate silences."

Funny. He hates them. I love them.

"I don't know what to say." I look at him, my eyes traveling across his flawless skin.

"Tell me about your childhood."

I pull the blanket further over my body up to my chin and cross my arms under it. "Nothing to say, really. Small town, small minds. That's why I left."

"Surely you have happy memories?"

"Probably." I return my gaze back at the flickering flame. I wish I was asleep.

I sit at a corner table at the hidden end of the room, studying the increasing number of paper cups gathering on the floor. Of course, university cocktail parties don't accommodate tables and comfortable chairs: there's not enough room. Patrons are supposed to be dancing and enjoying themselves, like Leylu and Edward. Not sit alone, guarding bags, nursing drinks and feeling grateful that I'm out of the house and joining society like a normal person.

"Amelia, right?"

A cigarette-smoking smile invades my personal space. I nod.

He points to himself. "Peter. From Communications and Semiotics 121."

CSST121. Another prerequisite to do any advanced communication course the university offers. A waste of my time.

"Right."

"Haven't seen you here before..."

I shake my head no.

He goes silent. It's my turn to bring up the conversation, however instead I look at the paper cups. He watches me and I shift in my high-stool seat uncomfortably.

"You wanna dance?" he asks.

I shake my head again.

"Drink?"

I repeat my actions.

"You want me to go?"

I shrug, still watching the cups, waiting for one of them to obtain life and save itself from the crush of a foot. It doesn't matter to me; I just want to go back to my room. My safety zone.

He takes the seat next to me and sits. I force a weak smile as I glance at him. He makes me uncomfortable. I suddenly want him to go.

"So... how are you finding the course?"

The one thing that bonds us together: the course. The last thing I want to talk about. Ever.

"Fine," I reply. "You?"

"Interesting; yeah, really interesting. Especially the phatics. Like what we're doing now, that's phatic..."

He explains it to me as if I wasn't there in the lecture and didn't understand it.

"Like my uncle died and my dad said 'I've got some bad news' which softened the blow in comparison to just plain out telling me 'He's dead,' y'know?"

I nod, spending more time looking at the over-priced cola I'm nursing than him. He lights up another cigarette. I look at it in disgust. He sees me.

"Sorry," he says, offering me the pack. "You want one?"

I shake my head again.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

I force another smile and take a gulp of the luke-warm cola.

"Say something!" Peter demands before breaking into an amused laugh. "You've barely said two words..."

"I don't think I even seen you talk in the tutes, either..." he continues. "You _do_ talk, right?"

I wish people would stop telling me to talk if they're not going to listen.

I nod.

"I think I'd go insane if I couldn't talk... I mean, it's a vital part of communication."

I nod again.

"So what are you majoring in?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

"Bingo!" he laughs. "You said something! Finally."

I smile politely.

"Yeah, me either. I mean, how can you decide on what you want to do for the rest of your life when you're 20; even 50? Younger years should be spent enjoying, not learning to be stuck in the one job for the rest of your life."

I nod in partial agreement. Perhaps he's never heard of Postgraduate study. Or mid-life crisis.

Peter grins widely, flashing his perfect teeth. I wonder what he's thinking as he looks at me. If he's thinking at all.

"So..." he begins before faultering as his eyes trail a leggy blonde walking past to go to the toilets. I watch him watch her, and I realise, yet again, I'm the pothole in the smooth freeway. I'm the burden.

"Go," I tell him flatly.

"What?"

"You're not obliged to stay here." I nod towards the mass of dancing bodies several metres away. "So go."

"Do you want me to?" He snubs the cigarette butt into the available ashtray.

I shrug. "It's up to you."

Peter looks at me, then at the people. He flashes me another smile.

I feel something inside me rip.

Peter reaches across me and traces my lip with his index finger.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" he said.

I smile, yet don't believe him. I think he likes to lie.

"So are you," I reply monotonously, fingering the tattoo on his right arm. It's an obscure image; a bunch of broken lines forming a circle if you squint. I wonder if it's homemade. I wonder what it means to him.

He grins, pleased. He thinks I don't notice him perfecting his look in front of the mirror. He knows he's beautiful. Everyone tells him so. I sometimes wonder if there's anything beneath the beauty. Peter gives me a sloppy kiss. Perhaps he is empty. Just like me except in different ways.

Tuesday afternoon. CSST121 tutorial 2pm - 3.30pm. Attendance compulsory for a pass, therefore there I sit, same chair every week, up the back, nearest to the door for quick getaway. I read my book to pass the time and ignore other classmates. They ignore me anyway. I wish I wasn't doing this course.

"Hi."

I continue reading.

"Amelia."

I look in the direction of the voice. Peter has moved from his usual chair among the people to the empty one beside me. I must've been really involved in the book to not have noticed him sit down. I force a weak smile in recognition.

"You done the homework?" he asks, rocking on the chair.

I nod.

"Did you understand question two?"

I shake my head. He smiles, pleased he's not the only one. The tutor walks through the door and class begins. As always.

He likes it when I tongue his perineum. He likes to permanently fondle one of my breasts possessively. He likes to moan my name as he thrusts into me.

I wish this one moment could last forever.

Yet the moment ends, as does the act. He is done, but I am not. I don't want it to end because the emptiness always comes right after. If only I could fall asleep like he's about to.

Instead I look at the burning candle on my right. He knows I like to have a candle burning, so he put one on a plate, on a chair beside his bed. Like a gift I should feel grateful for.

They say you shouldn't stare directly at the naked sun. The flame glows brightly; I wonder if it's the same.

I glance at Peter, then look away quickly. I know it definitely applies to him.

Everyone knows. Nobody purposefully moves from the group of chatty people to sit next to the loner unless they have to. Peter's sudden movement caused a sensation. The females in the class shoot me dirty jealous looks. The males sneak glances but do little more. I wonder if there's more to this situation than meets the eye.

I wish I was invisible again.

"What are you doing afterwards?" he whispers into my ear.

"Go home," I reply, looking at him.

"That it?"

I nod.

"Come for a coffee?" His perfect teeth flash as he smiles. A phatic question.

I look briefly around the room. The mature-age student who has never said one word to me breaks into a smile as she strains to listen above the chatter of the room. I return my gaze to him.

"Alright." A phatic response.

I feel something disappear from inside me.

"Y'know, it feels like I can tell you anything. You're a great listener." Peter leans forward and squeezes my hand. I fight the urge to pull away. Instead, I smile before taking a sip of coffee with my free hand.

"But you know so much about me, and I know so little about you. So tell me about yourself."

He's still holding my hand. I desperately want it back.

"I don't know what to say," I reply, ripping my gaze from my held hand to his eyes. His eyes that you can lose yourself in. I quickly focus on his teeth. His perfect teeth.

"What about movies? Favourite movies?"

I shrug. "Comedies, mainly. You?"

"Like what?"

"Parodies. Wrongfully Accused; Spaceballs; ones like that. You?"

"Mysteries."

I smile. Typical.

Peter wants to drive me home. For some reason I don't want to go back to my safety. Instead, I direct him to one of my favourite spots in the city. A park by the river. Hills, not houses, surround us. My private paradise for the first time shared. My heart beats double-time.

The grass is still wet from the light shower, yet I flop to the ground and make myself comfortable.

"Hurry," I say.

He warily looks at the ground, but soon crouches beside me. I ignore his sudden closeness and look to the sky.

The sun just sets behind the hills, causing the nearby clouds to glow golden while the rest of the sky is filled with oranges, reds, pinks, purples and blues. I wish this moment would last forever.

"What am I looking at?" he asks, pulling at a few blades of grass.

My heart drops.

"Why won't you let me in?"

It's our first fight, brought about by Peter, of course.

"Why? I'm trying so fucking hard to get to know you and you just push me away each time. I mean I try and try and try..."

He is such a drama queen. And the Oscar goes to...

"...Why don't you ever want to go anywhere? You just sit there the entire day, doing nothing. I want to go out; Do something; but you never want to."

He wants me to say something. I looked at him blankly.

"And you never talk. Why don't you talk to me? I want to know you but you say and do nothing."

He sits back down on the couch next to me; his voice returned to normal volume. "Just let me in, it's all I ask."

I smile my slightly crooked smile, the one he told me was beautiful before kissing it. I know it melts him; he told me so.

Peter's frown wavers, then disappears completely when I kiss him. He likes it when I make the first move.

Leylu playfully pokes Edward while he's stirring the bolognaise sauce. He's not much of a plumber/mechanic/electrician, but he cooks half-way decent food. He smiles and kisses her on her forehead, murmuring things only they can hear. I sit in the lounge-room trying not to notice them. I know they don't notice me.

"Rent's due tomorrow," is all he says to me. We've lived together for nearly two months and we barely know each other. I like it like that.

I nod and eat the sauce. It's passable.

"So what of this Peter, eh?" Leylu asks, not really caring but needing to be social.

I shrug, keeping my eyes fixed on the tv. Nothing vaguely interesting is on, but it's far better than this.

"You two really hit it off the other night. He's a great guy, eh Eddie? What was that course you had with him last semester? "

"Brit Lit," he replied, a mouth full of food.

"Yeah, British Literature… So do you know any information that Amelia needs to know about him?"

She winks at me as if she's doing me a favour. As if, since I've been seen in public with a member of the opposite sex, he's suddenly my boyfriend or life partner. I shoot her a dirty look before focusing on the repeated badly-acted soap opera. Anything is better than this. Anything is better than her.

"Didn't talk to him much," I hear in the background.

"Oh." A disappointed response. I can imagine her Western culture idealized version of beautiful face frowning. I have to stop myself from smiling.

"So are you seeing him again?"

"Amelia?"

"Hey!"

I rip my eyes from the tv back to her and her intrusive ways. She hates to be ignored. She hates people being in their own world all the time. She hates not being the centre of attention. She must hate me.

"What?" I reply, annoyed.

"Are you going to see him again?"

I shrug and stand, taking my half-eaten food to the kitchen and putting it in the fridge. I seem to be doing that a lot lately. There are meals a couple of weeks old still sitting in the fridge. Growing old and waiting.

Just like me.

"I know! We'll have a party, and you can invite him over. Nothing formal; just a gathering of friends, celebrating their youth."

"And exploiting it," I mutter.

She ignores me and smiles at Edward, allowing him to return the gesture.

I wish I wasn't always the invisible third wheel.

"Friday, then?" she continues talking.

I shrug again; not that it mattered. She never listens, unless it's about her. In many ways we're the same.

"Where do you see yourself in 10 years time?" He asks, flicking the ash of the cigarette into the grass and then taking a drag.

I pull a few blades from the ground and rip them to smaller pieces. "I don't know." Not here. "You?"

"I want to be living without regrets. None whatsoever."

I glance at him, trying to figure out the true meaning to his words. He smiles to himself and yet again I get the uncomfortable feeling that I am, once again, the third wheel.

He leans over and hugs me, wrapping his strong, muscular arms around me and kisses my jaw.

"You're a mystery, you know that?" he whispers.

I know it too well. Yet he likes mysteries. Am I his movie?

Peter rests his head against my shoulder and sighs, flicking the butt of the cigarette amongst the grass. Littering, but I don't care. Despite the smoke, he smells perfect. I inhale deeply, wanting to always remember that scent.

"I could really fall in love with you," he murmurs, eyes shut and smiling slightly.

Who is he talking to?

Everything changes.

"IT'S A PARTY! YOU SHOULD BE PARTYING!"

Leylu screams in my ear to be heard above the pop music. Not that she needs to even raise her voice above normal volume. Her alcohol-filled breath floats into my bubble, tainting it. An invisible hand pushes Leylu in the back, causing her to wobble and stumble to the floor, laughing after the initial shock, then cursing for spilling her beer over the rug. Her rug.

Alcohol makes people do stupid things.

"Hey."

Sometimes Leylu doesn't need alcohol in her veins to do stupid things.

Peter stands in front of me, beer in one hand, single flower in the other. She must've invited him. I'd been avoiding him since the sunset situation.

"For you." He hands over the small white flower as he sits on the couch next to me. I recognize it from the neighbour's front yard.

"Thanks," I reply, taking it to my nose to smell the sweet scent.

"A beautiful flower for a beautiful woman." He grabs my hand and kisses it.

I have the suspicious feeling I'm not the first he's said that to.

Nor the last.

I take back my hand and force a smile.

"So you live here?" he looks around the place, despite his vision being blocked by groups of drunken bodies.

"Yep."

"Nice place."

I wonder if he's lying. The place is a dump, even before people came with their litter.

"So are you going to give me the grand tour?" he smiles, flashing those teeth.

I can do nothing but agree.

He sits on my bed and I sit on the other side. My ultimate safety zone and he's invading it. At least I cleaned beforehand and put all my most cherished and personal things away. He talks between gulping down his drinks. Most of it doesn't make sense anymore.

I look at the clock on the bedside table. 5.33am. I must've fallen asleep during his ramblings. I glance over at him, lying on my bed; dead to the world save for a slight snore. I should wake him up and get him to go. Go anywhere but here. I should.

But I don't. His hair flopped onto my pillow, his peaceful expression on his face, his warm body sleeping in the same position I was last night stops me. I've never had such a creature in my bed before. Ever.

I could get used to it. But for now, I move back to my original position at the foot of my bed and close my eyes.

Perhaps this is the beginning of the end.

"You're different from what I originally thought about you, you know that?"

I glance up at Peter from my book.

"What do you mean?" I reply.

He shrugs as he reaches for another cigarette. "I just…" He lights up and takes a long drag. "You just exert this vulnerability… this fragility, and really, you're not like that at all. I mean, people don't show their vulnerable side, but you… you don't show your strong side. It's really…"

He pauses, trying to find the right word, but soon gives up and smiles. He can get away with anything with a smile like that.

"Nevermind."

I don't.

Perhaps I should've.

I wish I could travel back in time.

Peter wants me to come with him to see a movie a friend of a friend directed. I oblige since I can no longer stand the sounds of sex coming from Edward and Leylu's room.

It's a corny Hollywood feature about high school students who find love. Like they know what it means. Like two weeks before graduation they meet, battle social hierarchy and unfair parents, win the big football game, realise there's a whole other world outside high school, obtain forgiveness from the people they've wronged, save the whales, made their mark in high school history and found their soul mate.

Like shit like that ever happens in reality.

I tell Peter it's alright when he asks whether I like it. He smiles, knowing I'm lying. Perhaps the only time he ever truly knows me.

He takes me back to my place, yet we both remain in his car. His car with the fluffy black dice attached to the rear-view mirror.

There's something strange about that.

"You know what I love?"

"What?" I ask.

"Your smile."

I look at him as he reaches over to touch my lips.

"It's beautiful. The way it upturns ever-so-slightly at the edges. Like a secret only you know."

I can see it before it happens. But I do not stop it. His lips are on mine; his tongue forcing itself into my mouth.

I go along with it. He's sparked something inside of me. I can't quite tell if I like it or not.

"You have so many secrets, don't you?"

"Everyone has secrets," I whisper.

"Would you ever share yours?"

I look to the ceiling, the off-white paint beginning to chip and crack from old age, and pull the sheet further over my body.

"Maybe."

He licks, sucks, bites, moans, massages and tastes my body.

He asks if I'm alright yet does not wait for a response.

I bite my lip hard at the sudden pain exploding in me. The blood goes by unnoticed.

I wish it didn't hurt so much.

He finally finishes and rolls off me. I wonder how long it'll take before the numbness will clear. Masturbating was much easier.

I look to my left and see the burning candles. The fan is on, making the flame flicker and dance across the wax, causing it to melt into molten deformity.

I feel the same way as Peter leans across me to kiss and tease my nipple.

I know I am his now. I am moulded to fit him. People say you never forget your first.

He watches me as I do my daily random actions.

Sometimes he smiles; sometimes he just watches with such intensity in his eyes.

Like a hawk stalking it's prey.

I wonder what he's thinking. If he's thinking at all.

I wonder what he's feeling. If he feels at all.

What do I think? What do I feel?

I don't know. I've never felt it before.

" Hey Meal."

My eyes are shut yet I still frown. I hate it when he shortens my name to mere fragments for ease of whining. I don't call him Pee. He shouldn't call me a synonym for a feed.

Unless he thinks of me that way.

"Amelia... hey wake up. I want to show you something."

I open my eyes and squint at the sudden brightness. Peter stands above me, car keys and wallet in one hand, cigarettes and lighter in the other. No room for me.

"Show me what?" I say, sitting up.

"It's a surprise." He grins. He really does have a beautiful exterior.

I look into his eyes, now no longer afraid of what I might see as he escorts me out of my comfort zone.

The smile can't escape my lips.

I stubbed my toe on the door and yet my mouth is too happy to curse in order to relieve the pain.

He is in my thoughts. I don't shake my head to clear them.

No, I want him to stay.

They always say 'enjoy the moment.'

Perhaps this is it.

"Are you having fun?" Peter yells. He has to yell since the music that accompanies the Ferris wheel ride could make your eardrums bleed.

I smile in response. At first thought, the carnival seemed very cliché. But then again, I hadn't been to one since I was young, and apparently over the years had lost the feeling of excitement at all the pretty colours.

"It's amazing up here, isn't it?" he continues, looking out at all the tiny people below us. Crowds of people whom we can see, yet they can't distinguish us.

I could get used to it.

Suddenly, Peter's lips are on mine, his hands on my body, his scent in my nostrils. I mimic his actions.

It almost feels as if the fireworks flashing in the sky are meant for us.

Yes, I could really get used to this.

If only moments could last forever.

"Amelia, we need to talk."

I smile at the joke only I get.

Peter takes a deep breath and breaks eye contact. I instantly know what he's about to say.

"I don't think this is working."

I can no longer look into those eyes. I look at his teeth. His perfect white teeth, despite the staining power of cigarettes and coffee, that which remain dazzling.

"Look, we're complete opposites, you and me. We're on different wave-lengths."

I can no longer look at him.

"I don't know, I guess I'm just not looking for commitment right now. I mean, university's for experiencing new things and there's so many more things I want to do."

I realise I've returned to being the pot-hole in the smooth freeway. I am the burden. I appear to be blocking his experiencing. His mask has been removed entirely and his true self is revealed.

I should've seen it coming.

"Maybe both our hearts weren't into it, that's all."

It seems that he's discovered the mystery. My movie is over. I nod, needing an end. I know I cannot change his mind.

"Can we be friends?"

I nod again. A phatic response to a phatic ending. We both don't mean it. He smiles, relieved. Perhaps he was expecting me to make a scene.

"It was great," he says; his final words. They confuse me.

I lie in the grass facing the sky. Heavy grey clouds mar the perfect, endless blue. Yet the sight is beautiful.

People walk past me on the nearby sidewalk, oblivious to the wonder if only they'd tilt their heads upwards.

Maybe Peter walks past. Maybe he doesn't.

I continue to watch.

Leylu and Edward sit on my couch, groping each other like I'm not in the room. They're in their own little world; the world only two people in love can be in.

For a short while I was in that world. It didn't last long.

Nothing ever does.

The only way to get over that is to accept and move on.

They say 'tis better to have love and lost than never loved at all.

Was I even in that little isolated world of love in the first place?

Maybe, just maybe, love isn't for me.