|In Your Memory
Author: Brindabella PM
Alex looks back at his history with Amy and remembers the times when everything went smoothly as well as the times when their dreams fell apart. A soppy fic about Alex's grief, his time with Amy, and lots and lots of maddening fluff along the way! R&R plsRated: Fiction T - English - Tragedy/Drama - Chapters: 12 - Words: 21,678 - Reviews: 6 - Favs: 2 - Updated: 10-25-08 - Published: 02-22-08 - id: 4088498
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Chapter 12 Suddenly
It is so early. I open my eyes to see Amy still wrapped around me, holding on for dear life. I breathe out, falling into a little reverie of happiness over what happened between us last night. I never thought she would let me get that close to her. As I think back to those hours we spent together last night she stirs in my arms, looking like a child waking from a long slumber. She pulls back in amongst the sheets and rubs at her eyes. She turns her head from side to side slowly, waking herself up properly and when she sees me for the briefest of seconds I know she is startled. It's written all over her face.
When I woke up
You were perfect
She doesn't have anything to say, and surprisingly neither do I. I thought that this would've broken down that damn wall, but maybe we've only half knocked it down. She smiles nervously and slithers to the edge of the bed, away from me. Keeping the sheet secured across her body with one strong hand, she reaches for her clothes with the other. They are scattered on the floor but she stealthily reaches them and in a heartbeat they are back on, shielding her beauty from my view. Fully dressed, she sits with her back to me for several seconds before getting up and heading for the door. When she reaches it she turns back and gives a tiny smile that leaves me feeling horribly confused.
I'm not sorry
For what we did
For who we were
After she leaves I lie in bed turning everything over in my head. This…whatever it is we have, whatever I should call it, has gone so fast. Perhaps it was naïve of me to think that she would turn into this loving, upfront, relaxed person. I know she isn't that, but I also didn't expect the morning after the night before to be as much of a let down as that just was.
I tuck her back into bed, pulling the covers up close by her neck, and then walk out of the room as quietly as I can. As I go to close the door I take one last look at my daughter, snuggled into her own little dream world. My mind races back for a brief moment to when I bought this bed. All around me in the store there seemed to be nothing but trundle and bunk beds and they made me want to run from the store right back into my car and all the way home again. Because I would never need to buy a trundle bed or a bunk bed, because I would never have anymore children. And that thought alone saddened me more than I can accurately express. Half of me was mad at myself for thinking selfishly of my own desire for a big family and the other half of me cried inside because I would never ever get that chance to have that family, because I would never want to share something so incredible with anyone but Amy. And to think we had been so close once before, before Tay, and it was shunted away…I've just never felt so powerless and incapable in my life.
The next few days are awkward and uncomfortable, but we get along as we always have. She's still shy, but extends herself so much more now than she used to, as if she has scaled a wall and set foot on the bright side of life – the side she has never known before. Inside I secretly feel glad I was able to make that happen.
It is some weeks later, almost two months later in fact, that I stop on my way out one day, realizing how little of Amy I have seen lately. I hadn't necessarily thought that we would start spending every single day together after that night, but I realise only now that we've been spending even less time together than we did before. I stop and go to turn back to maybe knock quietly on Amy's office door, poke my head in and just say hello, but Jonesy intercepts me and lays the guilt on thickly. "You haven't been to the pub in weeks Alex!" he complains, and I feel guilty enough at neglecting my best friend that I agree to go have a beer.
As it always does with Jonesy, one turns into five and we both lose track of time and we eventually stumble home, knowing somewhere – god knows exactly where, but somewhere – in the backs of our minds that we do have to work tomorrow. I fall into bed a little before 2am and sleep without dreams. Saturday is gone.