- -
"The hardest thing in this world is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me." --
'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'
She was a bee being drawn to honey. Arriving on a jet plane from a far-off
small town in Colorado, she shed the Everwood in her and stepped into a new
life, what she hoped would be a glamorous life, one to make her forget so much
that had come to pass. Those so easily punished learn their lessons well. Those
so easily punished live in constant fear of being punished again. She looked to
start over, to begin a new life, being a new person, creating new memories...
and leaving pain behind her, where it belongs, and where she prayed it would
stay.
Her name was Amy Nicole. She was a dancer, headed to Julliard to dance her
heart out. Some would say she was an exceptional dancer; others, less
knowledgeable of dance, would nod and agree that she was quite good. All in
Everwood would stand from their seats and applaud, at her tiny recitals, like
the spectators at some grand opera. She remembered the applause, the graceful
bows, the roses in her hands, the small cards thrown at her feet. Always one
from Mom: "Way to go. Nothing gives me more reason to be proud of you than who
you are. Who you have always been. Who you will always be."
The honey of New York City was sticky, like Spider-Man's nets, ready to catch
and enslave such an innocent by-stander, a young girl who so obviously didn't
know her way around, and had no idea where she was going. Where should she go
first? What to do first when you're finally in a city that you've dreamed of for
a year, ever since... ever since fate crushed your heart into sand made from
petals. The petals that fell from the dancing roses in your arms.
For the first time in her life, Amy was all alone. No big brother at her side
to give her wet willies and strut around as if he was the new it in whatever
cocky fashion he chose; no father bustling about with a written list of
schedules -- where to go to, where you're coming from, why you're there; no
mother... no mother at all.
Should she feel free? She didn't know. She suddenly felt cold, and embraced
herself. The simple spaghetti-strap shirt that she wore suddenly didn't seem to
cover enough of her delicate little body. This shirt, in a perfect shade of pink
to match the plum blush on her cheeks, with faded jeans adorned with small
patches of tears in the fabric, complimented her features. But perhaps it
stopped at just that. She didn't know if she was just being paranoid, or if she
really didn't fit in with this big city crowd.
The plane ride had seemed a long one. Sitting next to her had been an aging
black woman, who looked to be in her sixties. Amy didn't know, really. She was a
horrible judge of age. People often thought her to be younger than she actually
was. Although it used to bother her as a child, she now took it as a compliment,
as it would mean a lot when she reached ages like seventy, and battled to defend
her youth. The woman beside her was named Patty, and asked kindly if this was
Amy's first trip to "the city".
"Yes," Amy said, then became apprehensive: "How can you tell?"
Patty laughed lightly. "It's in your features, child. You're tight,
protective, in your shell. You're all wound up. Don't you worry. The city'll
beat the scaredy-cat out of you. Why, I've lived there for more than thirty
years. I'm just coming home from visiting my son for the summer. It'll be nice
to get back to my flat. Nice to get home again..."
Home. Everwood didn't feel like home anymore. Not since... well, not since
fate came and left, taking its casualty. Amy looked to New York to be her new
home.
"So the city makes you tougher," she guessed out loud.
"That's one way of putting it," said Patty with a kind smile. "You look so
delicate. But I'll bet you're not. I'll bet you're made of steel. People used to
call me a frail little thing, and just look'it how I've survived. All of my
siblings are dead. Who would've thought I'd be the only one left in the end..."
"Made of steel..." Amy shifted in her seat, cleared her throat, tossed her
hair. Her much shorter hair. She had cut it from her waist to shoulder length. A
new look for a new life. A way to start all over again. Steel. She would be
steel. Weakness was preyed upon in all places, not just those with skyscrapers.
She had learned to bandage her wounds. And she had learned to hide what should
be hidden from those who shouldn't see.
"You're a student, I'll bet," Patty went on to say. "Going to school in NY?"
"College. Yes. First year."
Patty's eyes widened.
"I'm a dancer," Amy continued.
Patty's face softened. She gave Amy a warm smile. "Dancing. Now that's the
stuff. And don't you just look the part, all spry and little. And look at that
toned muscle, let me see that arm!"
Amy laughed and showcased her arm for her fellow passenger to see. Not an
inch of fat on it. Well crafted from so many grueling hours of work. The process
can sometimes be so ugly in order to create something so beautiful. In that way
Amy would compare dancing to giving birth. The hardest work you can imagine, but
oh, the payoff at the end. Beauty. And flowers of congratulations to sit on your
window sill.
"Well," said Patty, "I'll leave you be, angel child." She pulled out some
crossword puzzles and set to work. Amy drew her discman from the small carry-on
bag at her feet. She lulled herself to sleep with lyrics that soothed her soul.
I want to learn how you save yourself for someone who can love you for you...
She thought of things long since buried. Or things that were supposed to be
buried a long time ago.
She saw Colin's face, smiling with the idiotic wisdom of a pumped-up
thirteen year-old, laughing as Bright carried her over his shoulder to kick her
out of the room. "You can come back later, Grover," Colin assured her, giggling
behind his hand. "We just need some alone time."
"Yeah, like without the annoying baby sister around," put in Bright. "'Oh,
Mom, Bright said 'hell' four times yesterday.' 'Mom, Colin kicked me.' 'Daddy,
they're being mean.'"
"You are being mean!" she fumed. "Mean, mean, mean! Let me go!"
"What's that?" mocked Bright, still carrying her slight form bent over his
back. "Make the wind blow?" He nodded at Colin, who turned on the big fan in the
window.
"Let me go!"
Bright appeared to strain his ears. "Sorry, Ames, can't hear you. You said
you're a big ho?" She screamed. "We should toss you to-and-fro? Your flat chest
will never grow?"
"Daddy!" yelled twelve year-old Amy. "Daddy, they're torturing me again!"
"Oh, man," said a disappointed Colin as all three heard footsteps coming
up the stairs. The stairs later had carpeting on them, but not till a few years
later, when Harold and Rose learned that their steps preceded them in enough
time to constantly warn the kids they were coming. It was the same in this case.
Bright dropped Amy right where he stood. She crashed to the ground, head first.
She yelled out in pain. "Bright, I'm gonna make you pay for that! You're
going to be so dead!"
"Ooh, cat fight," Colin exclaimed, scratching the air with his nails.
"Kill him, Grover."
"Du-u-ude," Bright complained. "Whose side are you on?"
"Sorry," Colin quickly amended. Then he raised his eyes to the doorway.
"Bright," Harold said, his voice tired. "Have you dropped your sister
again?"
"She asked me to," said Bright.
"Bright! Shut up!" Amy screamed, then ran off down the hall.
Colin laughed again. "Run, Grover, run!"
Somebody was shaking her awake. "We're here, sweetheart," said Patty, looking
into Amy's blinking eyes. Amy frowned, at first not realizing where she was, and
who was in front of her.
"Wha?..."
"Darling, we're in New York. You're on the plane. Remember?"
Amy removed the headphones of her discman, turning off her favorite song.
"Oh... right. Thanks. Sorry. I'm... I just got lost, is all."
"Bad dream?"
"No." Amy sat back. She smiled faintly. "Not so bad at all."
When she got off the plane, she saw a mirage of faces. Previously, when she
had been here to audition, it had been with her father, who had so quickly
ushered her through the hustle and bustle. "Must move quickly or you'll focus on
the amount of people and get stressed out," he reasoned. "Quickly now, quickly!"
He hurried her along.
She had found the hurrying to be the stressful part. Now that she was on her
own... she wanted to smell the roses. She could almost feel the weight of them
in her arms, could almost sense the small pricks from the thorns. She glanced
down at one of her arms to see that it was fine. She held her bag to her
solemnly, watching everyone go by. "Bye, sweetie," said nice old Ms. Patty,
giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Good luck. When you dance, think of whatever
it was that put such a smile on your face."
Amy looked at her thoughtfully. She pictured Colin, her first love. Her only
love. "I will," she promised.
She would.
- -
to be continued...
