How I Met Amy | ✔️

Part 9

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.

***

As this one comes to an end, I started a new short story called PicTales! Almost daily updates :)