THE MUNDANE LIFE OF AMELIA AND HER PERFECT GOLDEN BOY
One whole yearlater after losing my grandmother and it still feels as fresh as it did that night we lost her. I continued on through college and today was graduation. I wasn’t a scholar or a straight “A” student, but I worked my ass off to get into Emory University in Atlanta. Four years seemed to pass by quicker than I realized. I threw myself into my studies and it all culminates tonight because I graduate with my bachelor’s degree in history. The red brick walls of the campus surrounding me held fond memories of the past few years. I can’t help but grin as the building which held my dorm comes into view. Today starts the beginning of a new chapter.
My dorm is packed with unattended boxes in the hallways as the sounds of luggage wheels against linoleum echo through the empty rooms. My room was no exception to the emptiness. My roommate had left the right side of our dorm room properly empty. Her mattress back to the plastic cover as it was on the day we moved in. Two small boxes stacked in the corner of the room remind me to finish packing the remaining items on my wall. Photos aligned my bulletin board above my desk. Memories of my favorite people captured on film and summed up my life on one board. Pictures of myself with my grandparents, my father. I have always been a daddy’s girl but at the same time, I had no choice. Charlie is the only parent I have. He’s my only relative left. The apprehension of returning home to the house I was raised in threatens to overshadow the solid fact that I will be a college graduate tonight.
With a deep exhale through my lips, I unpin the photos from their position on the board and place them into the box beside me. My eyes transfix on the photo before me. It was the oldest photo but most beloved in my possession. I unpin the photo and clutch it tightly in my hands. It’s frayed edges grazing my skin. The young woman with chestnut brown hair in a slicked back ponytail lay in a hospital bed cradling a newborn in her arms. Her body was exhausted, but she never stopped smiling. Just a few hours later, my mother passed away from a blood clot due to a complication giving birth to me. It’s the only photo we have together. My father said that she held me and stared at me the entire time. She called me her “vita Mia” because I was her life. I strived to be just like her when I grew up. Our love of history, art and Shakespeare bonded myself with my mother and my Nonna. Not only did we all share the same peridot green eyes and olive skin, but we went to the same university. Now I graduate with the same degree in history.
“I hope I do you proud, mama,” I say silently into the empty room, placing her photo into the box.
My attention is turned back onto the board in front of me at the remaining photos. My best friend. My lover. My rock. My Lucas. We have been together since freshman year of high school. We were the epitome of opposites attract. He was your stereotypical baseball jock with the abs and the killer butt. I was known as the thick Italian girl with an attitude and a fat ass. I prefer the term spirited if I’m being honest. But I was an infatuated schoolgirl as soon as I met him. His dimples almost had the ability to cast spells. I knew other women wanted him, but he only wanted me. I take the photos off the wall and hold them gingerly in my hands. His dimpled grin kissed my cheek as I hold his with my hand. I love this photo. That was the night of high school graduation, and he gave me the most beautiful promise ring. He vowed we would be together regardless of whatever happened in our lives. He was right. We would spend hours studying together and when we were done we always celebrated with a date with just the two of us.
I lost my virginity to him junior year after homecoming. It was not like how you see in the movies. I was a bigger girl and I always have been. I have thick Italian genes that fit in ever thicker jeans. I had a hard time believing I could possibly give him pleasure, but every time he got off and I just took care of myself later. It’s no big deal. I’m sure it will get better over time. It has to. Sex may not be my thing, but maybe in time and practice I will be better at it. Lucas and I always talked about a future after graduation. I am anxious for this future, but the future is ours.
I added the photo to the box and put the lid on it to close it before placing it on top of my large luggage sitting by the door. I raked my fingers through my jet-black hair and gathered it into a loose ponytail. Looking out at the empty room before me, I anguish at the thought of never being in this room again. After tonight my entire life will change and that in its entirety is enough to somber any mood. With the handle to my luggage in my hand, I hover my other hand above the light switch on the wall in front of me. I drew in a long breath, sighed, and inhaled the stale smell of disinfectant and my roommate’s essential oils.
“It’s been a great four years,” I say quietly, my mouth curving into a smile before turning off the light and leaving out the door of my dorm for the last time.