Second Chance
Amelia
Ellen takes slow measured steps towards a seat, making sure to stay at a pace that the little girl beside her can keep up with.
The baby waddles on her little legs, so sure. Like she's been walking forever, like it's nothing. Even though she can't be anymore than a year old.
A year old.
Ellen sits, just three seats down from me.
But the baby doesn't.
The baby toddles in my direction.
She stops directly in front of me, and then promptly falls down.
At first, I think she's going to cry. But she doesn't. She just looks up at me. Her large green eyes, so familiar. They aren't Ellen's. Ellen's eyes are brown. But I know them.
She stares at me, her gaze so serene. She reaches her hands toward me, arms outstretched. She wants me to pick her up.
"Amelia!" Ellen scolds, "Come back over here and leave that man alone."
Amelia puts her hands back down, but she continues to look at me.
Ellen is suddenly there, scooping her up. She looks at me apologetically.
I look back. Her face is so hollow. Her body so thin. Her eyes full of sadness, but alive still.
I want to hug her. I want to take her out to dinner. I want to make her laugh. I want to see her smile.
I don't know how I want these things. I don't know why. I just do.
She misunderstands my silence and awkwardly returns to her seat, this time with Amelia secured in her lap.
No.
I get up and and move to sit in the seat right next to her.
"What did you say her name is?" I ask, nodding toward the girl in her lap.
"Amelia," she answers, clearly suspicious of my interest in her daughter. The name. It rings bells bigger than that of liberty all throughout my head.
"Why'd you choose to name her Amelia?"
"Her grandmother, on her father's side, her name was Amelia," she tells me.
"Where's her father now?" I know that this is extremely forward. I also already know the answer to this question, but I don't know either. I don't know why I ask, but I feel I must.
"He passed away. Two years ago," she says in a voice hardly above a whisper. I wonder if she is going to cry.
Just then, a nurse comes out and calls her last name.
She quickly pulls herself together, before getting up, taking Amelia into her arms.
"That's us," she says to me. "It was nice meeting you mister uh... I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?"
"Vance. Nice meeting you, too, Ellen."
I don't know what makes me tell her this. That my name is Vance. Up until this moment, I had no idea I even had a name.
But I know that I've made a mistake. Because just as I realize she never told me her name was Ellen, tears begin to stream down her face, and she's walking away from me.
The baby waddles on her little legs, so sure. Like she's been walking forever, like it's nothing. Even though she can't be anymore than a year old.
A year old.
Ellen sits, just three seats down from me.
But the baby doesn't.
The baby toddles in my direction.
She stops directly in front of me, and then promptly falls down.
At first, I think she's going to cry. But she doesn't. She just looks up at me. Her large green eyes, so familiar. They aren't Ellen's. Ellen's eyes are brown. But I know them.
She stares at me, her gaze so serene. She reaches her hands toward me, arms outstretched. She wants me to pick her up.
"Amelia!" Ellen scolds, "Come back over here and leave that man alone."
Amelia puts her hands back down, but she continues to look at me.
Ellen is suddenly there, scooping her up. She looks at me apologetically.
I look back. Her face is so hollow. Her body so thin. Her eyes full of sadness, but alive still.
I want to hug her. I want to take her out to dinner. I want to make her laugh. I want to see her smile.
I don't know how I want these things. I don't know why. I just do.
She misunderstands my silence and awkwardly returns to her seat, this time with Amelia secured in her lap.
No.
I get up and and move to sit in the seat right next to her.
"What did you say her name is?" I ask, nodding toward the girl in her lap.
"Amelia," she answers, clearly suspicious of my interest in her daughter. The name. It rings bells bigger than that of liberty all throughout my head.
"Why'd you choose to name her Amelia?"
"Her grandmother, on her father's side, her name was Amelia," she tells me.
"Where's her father now?" I know that this is extremely forward. I also already know the answer to this question, but I don't know either. I don't know why I ask, but I feel I must.
"He passed away. Two years ago," she says in a voice hardly above a whisper. I wonder if she is going to cry.
Just then, a nurse comes out and calls her last name.
She quickly pulls herself together, before getting up, taking Amelia into her arms.
"That's us," she says to me. "It was nice meeting you mister uh... I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?"
"Vance. Nice meeting you, too, Ellen."
I don't know what makes me tell her this. That my name is Vance. Up until this moment, I had no idea I even had a name.
But I know that I've made a mistake. Because just as I realize she never told me her name was Ellen, tears begin to stream down her face, and she's walking away from me.