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Voices and music swirl in the air around her. She holds a champagne glass in her hand, the bubbles popping paralleling her inner turmoil. Her mood was happy, content, and other positive adjectives before he got down on one knee.
But not for her.
Amy inhales sharply and looks away from the glass. The sound of familiar laughter fills her ears and somehow she hears it over her blood rushing.
She trails her eyes over to it, knowing it’ll be him that she sees.
Laurie has his arm wrapped around her, his face the picture of iridescent joy. Her fingers itch to capture the look, to paint his blatant love for her and keep it forever. He’s a masterpiece and she is but an artist.
Flo lightly touches her arm, “Amy?”
She looks at her cousin, who’s gorgeous face is looking at her with pity. “Yes?”
“Are you alright? It is okay to say no.”
Amy laughs, the trilling sound so forced she’s surprised it doesn’t sound like that of squeaky plastic. “Of course, Flo! What an occasion. You know that I always love an event,” the lie trips out of her lips.
Flo nods, seemingly agreeing before lightly shaking her head, “I know how you must be feeling, Amy. No one would expect you to feel any differently.”
Amy pushes away. “I’m serious. I’m alright. Truly.”
For the single moment, Flo looks as if she believes her.
But god she misses him like the very first night.
The Night in the Hotel
It started like this:
Amy had been in Europe for two years now. She’d been a busy art student, perfecting her portfolio and her grace in society. Things were great and while she missed her family, for the first time in her life, she didn’t feel like she was competing for attention.
She was out for a nice day by herself. She started her day by going to a museum, sketching the paintings for a few hours before heading to a late brunch. She’d called Meg while inhaling delicious coffee and walking the city.
That’s when she saw him.
It couldn’t have been more idyllic. It was like Jo had written the scene herself.
Amy stopped in the park when she glimpsed him. He was strolling away from her, earbuds playing a concerto she’s sure she’s heard him practice before. Before when he was the March girls’ neighbor and friend. Before when he was Jo’s. Before he fled for Europe and Jo fled to New York. The world around them was in the midst of an early fall. The leaves were millions of gorgeous shades that reminded Amy so much of Concord it made her want to fly home and lay at Marmee’s feet, listening to Father and Beth sing old hymns. But here she was in Paris and Laurie is walking away from her like in every dream she’s ever had of him.
Except this time it is only him and her. There’s no Jo he’s running to.
The scene before her is purely for her eyes; the trees surrounding him like a halo of light as the sun glows him gold.
Fuck he’s beautiful and she’s enraptured.
“Laurie! Laurie,” she yells, the words spilling from her before she’s ready to speak them.
And unlike in her deepest, most secret dreams, he turns towards her. His face lights up in surprise and happiness and she’s running to him, and he’s taking her in, sweeping her off of her feet and spinning her around.
(In the deep crest of her mind, she laughs at the way this is just like Jo and Laurie were, running together and towards one another. They were magnets and Amy was just an annoyance.)
“Amy,” he laughs. “Oh my god, Amy.”
His eyes look her over and she feels so important and just as childish. Suddenly she’s twelve again and he is the sun.
“Look at you, you’re so grown up. Completely beautiful.”
Amy smiles and shakes her head, “Oh stop it!”
“What? I thought you liked that sort of thing?”
“No!”
A lie. All she has ever wanted was to hear these words from Theodore Laurence but not now. She grounds herself and reminds herself who she was and who she is now.
She was little Amy March, youngest sister and a selfish brat.
She is Amy March, the accomplished and put together twenty year old.
She was in love with Laurie, the boy next door who was (is, her insecurities whisper) in love with her sister.
She is supposed to be dating Fred Vaughn.
Laurie’s grin shrinks but the joy in his eyes at seeing her doesn’t disappear. “It’s great to see you, Amy.”
Amy smiles, overjoyed and barely controlling it. “It’s great to see you, Laurie.”
From there, the two become as close as two can be. They constantly meet up, skipping away to museums and operas. They grap meals together, trying wonderful delicacies. They go dancing and drinking, both politely ignoring whatever it is that is growing between them. Eventually, Laurie suggests skipping town and taking a trip, “Just the two of us,” he whispers to her in the middle of the night at his apartment.
So they take a small trip, Laurie sparing no expense, the two laughing at their arguments over who’s to pay, even though Amy is an art student.
On their last night there, the two decide to get drinks before stumbling back to their hotel room.
Amy leans against the wall, laughing as Laurie tries to unlock their door.
“You try doing this after shots,” he grumbles.
She shakes her head before pushing in front of him. “I did have shots,” she says and unlocks the door. She turns towards him, smug, but whatever she was going to say dies in her throat.
Laurie freezes, too. He inhales sharply at their sudden apparent closeness. Amy’s eyes look into his, searching before she decides she knows enough and stumbles up to pull him into her.
Laurie kisses her back passionately and reaches for the door handle behind her, picking her up from the ground before she can fall. Amy wraps her legs around him as he moans.
“Amy,” he says.
She shakes her head and jumps down, pulling him farther into the room. The door shuts tight behind them.
Riding in the Car
The next day as they drive back to Paris, they’re quiet. It’s such a contrast to what she’s used to that Amy is half tempted to tell him to stop the car and she get an Uber back but she bites the feeling back.
At some point, Laurie turns the radio on, music filling the silence in the car. He begins to hum along and Amy smiles at the olive branch. She begins to sing along and Laurie laughs, joining in.
By the time the song ends, Amy’s cheeks hurt from smiling.
Laurie pulls over.
She looks at him. He’s already looking at her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking at you,” he answers, as simple as that.
As if anything between them could be simple.
At that thought, she feels as if she’s been doused in cold water.
He is Jo’s Teddy. Not her Laurie.
She tells him this.
Laurie frowns before he looks angry. His rage is so rapid that it shocks her. “Amy, I am not Jo’s. She and I are not together and we won’t be-”
She shakes her head. “Laurie, I won’t be a second choice. I have been Jo’s shadow my entire life. I won’t do it anymore. I won’t. Not when.” She trails off.
“Not when what?”
Amy looks at him. Truly looks at him. All she expects to see is the same Laurie she loved when she was younger but that’s not who welcomes her. This Laurie is older, too, and she’s his best friend and he is her’s. He is the Laurie she takes sporadic trips to. The Laurie who sits patiently for hours as she sketches him. This is the Laurie who brings her coffee just how she likes it when she’s stressed.
Yes and it is also the Laurie who pulled her from the icy water, who laughed about lobsters for weeks but console her every time, who came by every single day to Aunt March’s without fail, knowing how truly lonely she was.
“Not when I have spent my entire life loving you,” she whispers but it is the loudest words she has ever spoken.
Laurie looks stunned but he has no reason to be. Amy knows he knew about her feelings for her. The two had even joked about her infatuation with him.
But it has never been that simple. She has always loved him and she always will.
“You don’t have to say anything. Or do anything. Really-”
Laurie leans across the middle console and presses his lips softly to hers. He lightly puts his hand on jaw, as if he expects her to pull away, as if she ever would or could.
The Polaroid Picture
They’re in bliss together.
Amy is waiting for the other shoe to fall.
With her (with them) nothing is ever simple.
Laurie snaps another picture dragging Amy’s attention to him. She laughs, “Laurie!”
“What, my lady?”
“I am not dressed for photos.” Amy is covered in paint, as she is currently working on a piece for one of her finals.
Laurie shakes his hand as he kisses her. “You look beautiful. You are beautiful, Raphaella.” He sits on a stool beside her, looking at the picture as it develops. He holds it up to her when it’s finished. “A masterpiece just like the one you paint.”
Amy feels her cheeks flush. “You cheese.”
He laughs before plucking a pen from the collection in front of them. On the Polaroid he writes, ‘My beautiful Raphaella, the greatest art she be.’
“A poet,” she snarks.
He pouts before smirking and lunging at her.
“Laurie,” she laughs.
They Don’t Know How Much I Miss You
It ends like this:
They’re laying in Laurie’s luxury bed, both deciding to be lazy today.
He lightly pushes her blonde hair out of her face, the sun spilling in through the window, once again encasing him in a golden glow. She’s taken back to that day in the park. Taken back to the very first night, in the hotel.
“I love you,” he speaks quietly, as if scared to break the space that surrounds them.
It shouldn’t break it but for whatever reason, it shatters.
Amy pulls away. “What?”
Laurie sits up. He’s frowning but he laughs. “What do you mean ‘what’?”
She pulls the sheet up on her chest. She shakes her head. “I. Don’t. No, don’t say that.”
“Excuse me? Why can’t I say that I love you?”
“Because you don’t,” she blurts it out but she hadn’t meant to say it.
Laurie flinches like she hit him and maybe she did. Amy knows she feels as if she’s been struck.
“How can you fucking say that?”
Amy shakes her head. “Laurie-”
“No. No please tell me how I don’t love you,” he sounds furious and so fucking hurt and this is the moment where she knows they’ve shattered each other’s hearts.
“I’m not yours, Laurie,” she says it so quietly she almost thinks she hadn’t spoken at all but Laurie gets up from the bed and begins pulling on his clothes.
“Amy, it isn’t fair for you to keep saying shit like that to me. I’m only not yours because you won’t let me be,” and he walks away from her, the door to his bedroom echoing in her ears.
She inhales sharply and places her hand on her chest. She looks around her, the once peaceful now war-ridden. On the bedside table, sits a simple picture.
Amy sobs.
We’d Go Back In Time
10 months later, Laurie is proposing to a lady he met in London, which he fled to after she shattered his heart, and she went back to Massachusetts after he broke hers.
Now, she stands in her family home as everyone congratulates Laurie and his new fiancee. Her face is lovestruck and Amy can’t bear to look at her, so beautiful and glowing, almost spilling over with her love for Laurie.
Laurie, who holds her hand delicately in his. Laurie, who talks about how he met her in a park in London in the winter (it was early fall in Paris). Laurie, who said that he first knew he was in love when they took a train ride through Europe (it was a car ride!).
Their story is so familiar but so different that Amy feels sick.
Laurie is so familiar but so different that Amy feels as if she is falling.
Eventually, Jo comes up and grabs the attention of Laurie’s fiancee, the two laughing as if they’ve known each other for years. Laurie smiles adoringly at the two of them before his eyes look around the room.
They land on her.
He freezes. His expression is struck with something she can’t name. She hates herself partly for putting it there and partly for destroying something she had with him where she can practically read his mind.
Laurie swallows and opens his mind and she shakes her head. He looks so hurt for a moment and she feels so fucking selfish. All she wants to do is fly. All she wants is to pick him up and take him back in time.
Things are anything but simple for her, though.
His fiancee, his beautiful and happy fiancee, pulls him into a sweet kiss, nothing but a peck on the lips but anything Amy was feeling shutters short, receding into the dark.
Amy wishes she could fly.