Amanda

She loved me. I know it. She really did.

I mean, it’s kind of hard for me to think so now, but I remember it all. That first night together. The warmth of her embrace. Her breath on the back of my neck. I had felt so cold and lonely before, but with her… it just felt like home. Everything about her felt like home. The soothing sound of her voice. Her smell. Her touch.

I have never felt so safe before. I have never been so loved. I have never felt like I was actually someone—like I mattered.

Of course, we’ve had our moments of disagreement. Who doesn’t. But in the end, it’s all about what you choose to remember. And I choose to remember the good things.

I choose to remember breakfasts. Those breakfasts together—just the two of us, listening to the rain outside, steam rising from her coffee mug (I could never understand why she loved that drink), she’s looking through the window with that dreamy expression on her face, with that sad smile of hers, so genuine, so tender, so… so her. I have never seen anyone smile like that. And then she’d turn to me and say, “You know what, Max, it’s going to be a beautiful day, no matter what.” And it was. They all were beautiful, those days with her. I realize it now.

She used to tell me everything. All about her past and present. Everything that was on her mind. Stories from her childhood days. All about her old friends, and about her parents, whom she missed so much.

Plip.

I wish I could have met her parents. They must have been amazing people. So kind-hearted, so generous—like the daughter they had raised.

I remember the story she told me about how her parents had saved up the money to buy her first car. It was a surprise. A pink Volkswagen beetle. She still has a picture of it on the nightstand, all the family together, smiling, and she looks just overwhelmed with happiness. “Good old times,” she used to say, looking at that picture. Followed by that sad smile of hers. And I just wanted to hold her and never let go.

Since I don’t know anything about my family, I loved listening to her stories. I was imagining how wonderful it must feel to be part of a family. To belong. To have that close connection with someone. To know they’ve got your back, no matter what.

Well, I did get to feel it. She was my family. She used to be…

Plip. Plip.

Oh, that funny story she told me about her brother… when he got drunk for the first time in high school and she was supposed to cover up for him, but instead of spending a night at his friend’s house as planned, he came home in the middle of the night, barely walking, crushing everything in the dark living room and scaring the hell out of the family, all because he wanted to say he was sorry and he didn’t want her to have to lie to their parents.

She’d always laugh when she was telling that story. And then she’d cry looking at his picture. His last picture. Taken just a week before that terrible accident.

“I’m glad Mom and Dad didn’t get to see that. They wouldn’t be able to take it. They loved him so much,” she used to say.

“And now, Max, all I’ve got is you. And you know what? I love you, Max,” she’d say, gently wiping tears from the corners of her eyes with her knuckles. “Let’s go eat something, what do you say?”

And oh God, could she cook. Those mouth watering aromas coming from the kitchen, while she danced there to her favourite music while at the same time stirring something on the stove. She looked like a magician. Or an artist creating a masterpiece. Every single time. I could keep watching her cook for hours. She never took that long, though.

Even now, when I’m thinking of those delicious meatballs, it’s like I can smell them right here, right this second, because I will always remember how they smelled, as I will always remember all the nuances of their taste too.

Plip. Plip.

And after dinner, we’d curl up on the sofa and watch a movie together. Amanda loved romantic comedies. Me… I just loved Amanda. So I’d go along with whatever she picked.

“You know, Max,” she’d say, “I’ve seen enough negativity in this life. I’ve seen sorrow, I’ve seen struggle, I’ve seen loss, I’ve seen tears. Why would I add to that as if it’s not enough? Why would anyone want to see violence, death, and suffering on the screen? Choose it among all other things, and even pay for it? That’s something I don’t understand.”

She was just too kind. Too caring.

She’d cry with happiness when somebody in a movie got married or had a baby. She’d even cry when they briught home a puppy. She’d be so genuinely happy for even fictional characters, let alone everyone she actually knew.

I remember, one day she came home with shopping bags full of groceries, her face glowing with joy: “Max, we’re throwing a party! Linda has finally passed her German test!”

Linda had been struggling to learn German for years, as Amanda told me. No one really knew why she needed it, including Linda herself, besides, she was definitely not good with languages, but she was stubbornly pursuing her goal. When she succeeded, Amanda was so proud of her, as if it was her personal achievement.

Amanda. My Amanda. God, I miss her.

Plip. Plip. Plip.

This bench is getting so wet. And cold. Looks like it’s going to rain pretty hard. I should probably go. But when I sit here like this, thinking of her, I almost feel like we’re together again.

Just a little bit more. I’ll stay here just a little bit more. Those memories, they feel so warm. They are my protection against the cold drops falling from the sky. Makes me think, maybe someone up there is crying with happiness, too. Or maybe not. But that’s definitely something Amanda would want to believe.

It all changed when he walked into her life. It’s not like I hated him at first sight, nothing like that. I actually liked the guy. But I had that tingling feeling... I somehow knew that things would change. That nothing would ever be the same again.

She started coming home later than usual. Much later, sometimes.

At first, I just patiently waited. I can handle being alone. I’m not much of an extravert, to be honest. But I sure did miss her.

When she was home, though, she really tried to give me extra attention. I could see that. It’s just that in good old times it wouldn’t have even been considered extra. It used to be the norm.

Then she started spending more and more time out. She wouldn’t make those meatballs and dance in the kitchen anymore. Or bake apple pies. I’ve never been a fan of those myself, but I knew that she really enjoyed making them. She felt really proud of herself every time, saying something like, “Oh, I’m sure this time it turned out even better than usually! That smell, Max, don’t you just love it? Cinnamon and apples… what could be a better combination?” And she’d cut at least a half of it and take it to the neighbor, that old lady next door, who lived alone. Amanda used to always check on her, and would bring her some treats or flowers once in a while.

Wow. That rumble was loud. It really is turning into a thunderstorm.

Where was I… Apple pies. Yes, she stopped baking apple pies.

She’d come home later and later every time.

“Sorry, Max!” would be all I heard. “Miss me? Oh, I’m so tired, you have no idea.”

Quick dinner, shower, bed, lights off. Only the phone screen illuminating the room, while she’s texting.

That went on for quite a while. I even got used to it. We can actually get used to pretty much anything, it seems. Especially when left without a choice.

But then things changed again.

First, he started showing up at our place.

“Max, this is Mark. Mark, this is Max.” Amanda smiled. I noticed then that even her smile had changed. That beautiful, delicate, sad smile of hers had lost its sadness. And it was a great thing, I knew that. Just different. One more change, to add to the rest.

Amanda. My Amanda. Those little dancing flames of happiness in her eyes turned her into the most perfect human being.

I knew things would never be the same. But back then, I had no idea how much they would change.

One night, I overheard the conversation on the balcony.

“Of course it has to be your place,” he said.

“I agree. The rent, the location, everything. I know it’s not huge, but we’ll manage,” she replied.

“How much do we need, really? Bedroom, bathroom...well, maybe a kitchen in between, we do have to eat.” He laughed.

“Which reminds me, you haven’t even tried my cooking yet. We’ve been eating out all the time!”

“I can’t wait. And just in case, that pizza place is just around the corner.”

“Hey! I am actually a very good cook, I’ve been told.” She laughed. “I’m excited. And happy. And kind of overwhelmed. I can’t believe we’re moving in together.”

“Me neither. But do you know what? I’ve never been so sure of anything in my whole life. How about you?”

“Me too. I’m a bit nervous, I’ll be honest. Just a little bit. But for me, it’ll be easier…”

“Because I’m moving in with you, and not the other way around, right?” He laughed.

“Absolutely right. Besides, I think it’ll be easier for Max, too,” she said.

“Max… Hmm...Yeah, sweetie, about Max…”

I didn’t like the way that sounded. At all.

“What about Max?” Amanda sounded worried.

“That might be an issue.” He paused for a minute, then took a deep breath and continued. “Look, I know that you love him and that you’ve had him for so long… but Mandy, I’m allergic to cats.”

“What?!”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I understand.”

“What do you mean? What do you understand? Because I don’t. And what do you suggest?”

Poor Amanda, I could hear she was on the verge of bursting into tears.

“Mandy, honey, what can I do? It’s not my fault!”

There was a long pause, then I heard Amanda sobbing. Mark was trying to calm her down.

“We’ll think of something. We definitely will. We’ll find him a home.”

I froze. I couldn’t believe what I heard. The rest of the conversation came in snippets, as if strong wind tossed the sounds around like dry leaves, and only some random ones could reach my ears.

“...Linda can’t...”

“...Preston… maybe...”

“...I’ll ask...”

“...It’s just a little schnauzer, they’ll get along...”

“...I’ll call tomorrow...”

“...don’t cry… honey, please…”

“...don’t understand…”

“...yes, I do… I love you...”

They spent at least another hour on that balcony. When they came back inside, Amanda’s eyes were red and puffy. I also noticed that both of them tried to avoid looking my way.

Later that night, after Mark left, and Amanda cried herself to sleep, I went out on the balcony, jumped down on the ground, and walked off into the night.

She has found her family. Her happiness. I didn’t want to stand in the way. Nor did I want to live with schnauzers, to be honest. But first and foremost, I didn’t want her to have to make that decision. So I left.

Now, sitting on this bench in the pouring rain, with a growling empty stomach and water dripping down my tail, do I have any regrets about what I did? Maybe. But they sure do pale in comparison with those bright flames of happiness in Amanda’s eyes.