When she said that she isn't sure who she takes after, I was convinced that she actually knew- all along what she was up to!I was befuddled at first but then I kind of got used to it, to her. "People call me Amelia, or Bridget of the modern day!" I didn't know what to say on that. I was actually taken aback and for a minute slightly unable to ascertain what I was trying to say or what to even think about.
I was hesitant to start with, but then I began to think at speed and I thought, assuredly that by asking her a direct question might not be an ideal situation. Might not be something that a person with half a brain would dare to ask. I asked her anyway. I asked her if she really meant what she actually said"Bridget of the modern day" and I asked, "Do you actually mean that?" I sounded a little bit confused. But Amelia does not doubt my abilities. She does not, she will not doubt my intentions here. I think she wanted to say more, something that will make me inherently react to things. She was about to open her mouth and pronounce something but didn't say much.
I think it was that she was feeling some kind of tension. I couldn't work out what it was but there was a twinkle on her face. I looked at her with not such small likeness. I couldn't say if there was any sense of closeness with Amelia, but what I couldn't work out was the fact that I wouldn't have been able to distinguish between a woman who is able to muster all that strength to come out clean and say what she feels and how she feels about things and in other instances a woman who can only be utterly rejecting, not appreciative of the fact that she is all lonely and the- whole world is against her! A woman who entrenches herself to think differently but without the necessary predisposition to attain suh a notoriety.
'I have known a lot of Bridgets in my past life.' I said to her. She smiled at me. She didn't say much. We were sitting on this concrete platform in the docks of Portsmouth. I just needed to take a day off work that day and Amelia is one of the interns who has just started to get me excited about the new world. What distinguishes her entirely from the rest of the world is the utter uniqueness of her hair.
She knows that she can do much better, sometimes, to just not show off her hair. Especially in the social environs. I have noticed her when she first started working for us. Well, interning for us. The thing that drew me in her horizons was the hair, and the way she spoke.
I knew that there is something special about Amelia. I understood from the earliest times that getting on and becoming a 'furtherist' with somebody you work with isn't a good or a plausible idea. It does make me angry though, but defying processes, as natural as this is god-given and to present itself isn't an easy task.
I felt that I should say something before it gets late, too late even. She decides to throw me this surreptitious look. I was very much relieved of this. I responded with a sincerely unsure look and began to ask myself 'how do I pursue it further?'. She then takes this packet of fags from her breast pocket and offers one to me. I took one and said thanks to her. I, just needed to take my time with that cigarette. I did take my time with it. I kept staring at her at all times. I was spooky and creepy and I was impatient. But I was considerate and found it very hard to keep on focusing on her without letting my eyes transfix in hers. She caught my eyes three or four times looking at her, bravely, insistently, without knowing why. I have realised at the last minute before she made the move to leave me alone stranded in my own little struggle to love, that it was her hair I was transfixed with and that her hair were the reflection of my own mother's, when she was young, just before she died and I was a tiny little toddler finding myself one sunny afternoon playing with her hair while she was struggling for breath, giving her life away because her big heart wasn't ready to let in more of this difficult world!
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