Amelia

“You’re the cream in my coffee,” said Amelia, her brown curls wistfully falling. Ever deeper, down, down. “And I thought we would be together in what might be forever!”

Vincent, who couldn’t be anywhere else, did his best.

“It's always you!” Amelia's voice rose, her face contorted in a pout. “Which can be construed as maybe or never! I despise you!”

Vincent tried to pout. It was an exploration that neither interested him nor could be ignored. “Oh, to be me!” he said.

The vast ocean, its waves ceaseless, decided it was not in anyone's interest to have much to say. It remained silent, as always—ever always—to be this and every other thing imaginable, which could be or wasn’t, what will be or isn’t. Such a reverie!

Amelia was having nothing of it! “Oh, to wish upon a sea, not having missed the better part of…”

“What?” Vincent asked while still breathing. Soon to be extinct? To Amelia? Hmm,…far too simple!

“I have a better plan!” exulted Amelia. “Say you were not that man who simply lives but was the apple of my…”

The ocean crashed, rocks heaving from the bowels of unknown cataclysms to be unleashed from planned, ever-convoluted expanses…

#

Amelia woke up. Well, not really. Sorta. “Gotta smoke!” she burped. Reaching for the ashtray, it pitched to the floor, where everything else lived: the bottle, the cell phone, Vincent’s going away picture…

“Get your ass down here!” yelled the mother that Amelia never had. “You think I make breakfast strudel for nothing?”

“I hate to intrude,” this mother thought, “But our problem excludes much discussion. You major in cell phones, friends, video games, and being gone…”

“Yada, Yada, Yada, “ Amelia said. “Try getting off on the right foot for once, Mommers!”

“Get off on the right foot? How do you like my dance steps? A little cha cha! More tango over there! Rumba me outta here? I’ve had it being perfectly nothing!” yelled the mother Amelia never had.

Amelia raised her glass. “You look like I need to return you to Amazon!” quaffed Amelia, her latest crack, milk making a smile on her face. “Yet whenever I try to, I’m always years late! I must try again soon!”

“Wait until I try it!” snarled nonexistent Mom. “Hey, where are you off to?”

“I’m off to you!” yelled Amelia, going out the door. “Or on to you! Take your pick!”

“Off or on. The same difference!” yelled the non-existent Mom as she tossed strudel. Flowers filled her hair, so righteous and fair. Hmm, not quiet, er, quite! But almost.

There was no ocean.

#

When Amelia got to high school, everyone was so low! QB Vincent made a pass. There were no cheerleaders at this practice, only Amelia, cutting class, who banged her 300-dollar shoes on the aluminum bleachers every time it mattered and piled bubblegum into her mouth. The bench she sat on had her so high that she could see everything!

She dreamed and dreamed, more smitten without Vincent than with him. How dreams fit better than life! The hopeful look on her face, unwitting. It was a piece offering to Vincent. Poor him so wrapped up in being who he is!

Then Lyla just happened by. Amelia was pleased.

"You know why I like my name so much?" Amelia asked.

"Why?"

"Because A-me-lia has "me" right in the middle of it!"

Lyla got this grin. "You know that Amanda hasn't had a boyfriend since last month? Guess what I said to her the other day?"

"What?" replied Amelia.

"I said I know why you are called Amanda! It really means 'A man, duh!' Isn't that hilarious?" Then Lyla got thoughtful. "Amelia, is that why you say "Vin-cent" when you are mad at him!"

Amelia crossed her arms and got really quiet. "You're being personal, Lyla. I hate that."

Lyla batted her eyes like she was changing channels or something. She stared at Vincent, who looked so tiny from where they stood. “Vin-cent's so cute!” Lyla exclaimed. Can I have him? Pretty please!”

Amelia sighed and blew a big pink bubble that, when it popped, trapped her nose, which was so pointy and stuck up that Lyla fairly exploded!

“Oh goodness! Why am I asking you?” she yelled, hopping down the dozens of airy, bouncy aluminum benches that separated her from Him—who really was… after all!

“Look at me! Look at me!” thought Lyla, Vincent pretending to talk to her, his arms outstretched to the vast open sky.

Which was simply there.

#

Amelia tried to burp, but it was no go. Burps need air, which refused to be with so much bubblegum handy!

“I need to chill and watch Netflix,” she thought, tossing her wad into the wastepaper basket. “That and my nails are so pearly perfect, such a surprise!”

 How tipping makes everyone so happy to see you! Wouldn’t it be nice if everything was as simple as a nail salon? A tip for the lost…whatever it costs! You're not quite your average sixteen-year-old yet!

“Dolly, help me get this straight!” Boy’s are…”

“Trouble!” said Dolly, her nails flashing to drum up business. “Never mind, honey, just keep on spending! We love to reel you — oops! The real you!”

“What is the real me?” thought Amelia and Dolly.

Who were Amelia and Dolly? Do you think everything goes as it should? Amelia as Dolly. Dolly as Amelia! So many things happen all at once. One woman trying a teenage dream. The other is a dreamy teenager.

#

 It was Dolly who had a surprise. She saw Vincent hanging out at the dying mall. “What a hunk!” she thought as she closed her shop. A big, big store was nearby. She had to spend, spend, spend. Groceries and snarly you-check-it-outs—so much distraction.

Then, she decided to steal mascara, a little of this, a little of that, dreaming of Vincent. And the security guard was a little of this and a little of that, so unaccounted for!

“You own a store in this mall, no less!” yelled the manager, who had practiced this so often. “To be or not to be!” Shakespeare said. Not that he had much choice in the matter.

“I think, therefore I am!” Dolly thought upon hearing about her fate: the fine and the threatened jail time. Neither one was what should have been, was, or would have been. Nuts! Am I going crazy?

“Yes,” a little voice said, sounding so much like Amelia.

#

But there was a meeting of the wise that Amelia, Lyla, and Dolly attended. And everything was put right, even though there was nothing much wrong to begin with.

Which means what? Does meaning come from outside? Mean huh? Buffy was hurt.

She wasn’t invited to speak at this meeting—not that she needed anything but a name change! That's so funny!

But then Buffy always had this look, so endless. Like the ocean she was. Everything unintended. She turned away and simply lived.