On days like these, when the air is so cold it bites at your face and hands, and your breath is visible before you, one cannot help but think of the past. Amelie had always been the type of person to prefer the past. There was something comforting in its solidness, something reassuring in the fact that everything had already happened and that she, as an observer from the present, could look back on it without having to make the same decisions all over again. It wasn’t just her own past she liked. As a child she buried her head in books and spent her recesses and lunches immersed in Ancient Rome and Greece, World Wars and revolutions, while everyone else around her played tips.
Lately though, Amelie didn’t want to think of the past. Because thinking of the past reminded of her, and Amelie was really trying very hard not to think of her. It was usually silly little things that would send Amelie reeling back. Just the other week a song playing in Coles delivered her back to the night she first met Bea. Amelie hadn’t meant to go out that Wednesday, but somehow come midnight she found herself on the sticky dance floor of some student bar, beer going warm in her hand as she stared unashamedly at the lead singer of the band playing covers. There was just something about her, something that Amelie couldn’t quite put her finger on, that made it impossible to look away as she twirled and jumped and flicked her sweaty curls out of her eyes.
She hadn’t expected it when, after the set had ended and Amelie’s friends had disappeared out back to the smoker’s area, Bea eased up beside her and asked to dance. So Amelie took Bea’s hand, and then, after some hours, her number. Bea said goodbye with a gentle kiss to the side of Amelie’s mouth and a teasing reminder to text her.
It took Amelie three days and roughly 27 draft texts, typed out in her notes app, before she finally bit the bullet and messaged Bea. They had their first date in the botanical gardens, on one of those warm March evenings when the sun still sets late and everything feels possible, the world stretching out indefinitely before you. She kissed her down by the banks of the Yarra, and it took three days for the stupid smile to finally wear off her face.
Many more dates followed, punctured with sleepless nights staying up talking to each other, baring their souls. By June they were official. Amelie learned that Bea had always wanted to be in a band and didn’t really care much for her degree – she was just doing it to appease her parents. She seemed so sure in her point of view – so certain that she would be a singer. There was no doubt in Bea’s mind and Amelie wished she could be a little more like that. She learned that Bea had been writing her own songs and sometimes she was lucky enough to hear them. In turn Amelie showed Bea her stories, confessed quietly that what she wanted most in the world was to be an author, but wasn’t sure she’d ever escape the guilt that was pushing her to do something more meaningful with her life.
She met Bea’s friends, her parents, her brother and sister. She sat through countless lunches and dinners then breakfasts, watching Bea surrounded by the people who loved her, the way her face would light up when she realised she’d made one of them laugh. She learned to love the organised chaos that seemed to surround Bea’s life. The way she could never forget a friend’s birthday, but could never seem to remember where she’d put her keys. All these things Amelie remembered no matter how much she didn’t want to.
Most of all she remembered the nights they would spend together lying in the same bed. Bea curled up on her side, Bea’s thumb softly stroking the bottom of her ribs just below her heart, as she pulled Bea even closer into her and their legs tangled beneath the sheets. In those moments, just before they drifted off into sleep, Amelie felt so safe and secure and known, that it was impossible to conceive that anything could ever come between them.
And, without warning, sometime recently something did. One day they were in love and then the next Bea was staring at a spot on the wall just by the side of her head, telling her that it was over, that it wasn’t that she didn’t love her, it was just that it wasn’t what she wanted anymore. Amelie didn’t say anything, didn’t fight, didn’t plead, didn’t cry, just simply stood up and walked out and away leaving Bea still sitting at a table in their favourite café. She was numb for two whole days before it hit that Bea had left her. Then she didn’t get out of bed for a week.
Yes, Amelie had been the type of person to prefer the past. Bea had taught her to appreciate the present, to want for the future. Now that she was gone, Amelie didn’t want to think about any of it – didn’t want to be reminded of their past together, of the future that she thought they’d have. Didn’t want to look back on their history and figure out what went wrong. Somewhere, deep down inside of her, she knew that the pain would pass, and, just as the winter turns into spring, she’d be able to look back on this and appreciate all the joy it had brought. For now though, that day hadn’t come, and she would have to be careful about going to Coles for the milk, just in case a song came on and she suddenly found herself crying in the aisles.
