#cogiito

There was nothing finer than hearing a crowd singing your lyrics back to you  — at least, not in Mackayla’s opinion. The night before had seen her stood in front of the biggest crowd Pixie Curse had played to, and their fans had screamed for more as soon as they left the stage. However, more was becoming somewhat difficult to provide as Mac tried to save up her lyrics for the bands next album. There was nothing more they could offer the crowd but the four of them on stage, giving their all to the music that circled radio stations and television channels alike. Soon they’d be back in the studio, recording new music for their fans, but the girls had yet to create any solid new material for when the time came.

Mac was forever scribbling snippets of lyrics down in her journal, waiting for inspiration to strike so she could string them together in order to create another hit. Most of the time, the labour was fruitless. Either the lyrics didn’t flow into each other quite the way she wanted or they couldn’t find the right melodies that made the song sound like them. But as Mac looked down at her handwriting, the lyrics having spilled onto the paper that morning after inspiration had struck about a certain someone, she couldn’t help but think she was on to a winner  — so long as she could find the right beat to match with it. Only that part of the equation wasn’t entirely up to her. Usually, Mac enlisted Vanessa’s help with the chords, something that made her more and more nervous each time she sought her help. It may not have seemed like a problem to most, but to Mac it was. This particular song was inspired by her best friend. One that she had more than friendly feelings towards.

The tour bus had stopped for a break and to refill at one of the many service stations along their trip, and Mac had been happy to run out of the bus and stretch her legs. She wasn’t gone for long however and arrived back at the bus before the rest of her band mates, or so she had thought. Stepping onto the bus with a box of donuts in hand, she spotted Vanessa laid back in the ‘recreational’ half of the bus. Seeing her made Mac’s heart skip a beat, and she stopped in her tracks before realising she was staring. Friends definitely didn’t stare at their friends the way she was - looking at Vanessa as if she was the only thing that mattered in the world - and so she snapped herself out of her trans, moving down the tiny aisle to sit next to Vanessa. A smile on her face, she placed the box of donuts under her friends nose. “I’ll let you have first dibs if you help me on a project.”

“You’ll be walking down the aisle, and there, at the end of it, your groom will be. And he’ll be smiling. Crying, even. Because he has never seen anyone as beautiful as you. Because he will never love anyone as much as he loves you. You’ll smile, and beam with a love that is more than love --- and there he’ll be, to reflect it. The room will be full of people, but it’s really only the two of you that matter. The room will be full of people, but it’ll be the two of you connecting like you’ve never connected before. And you’ll be. . . happy. So, so happy. You’ll be happy. That’s what matters, you know? You’re going to be so happy. You’re going to be happy. The both of you are.”

The sound of their wedding planner’s voice had been a sense of calm engulfing all of Amelia as she closed her eyes and listened. The weeks prior to all this had been stressful. With the announcement of their engagement to both sides of the family, the attempts of booking Mohamed Chalthoum as a wedding planner despite his busy schedule, and the demands of normal life separate from the wedding kerfuffle, Amelia was more than drained. It took something out of someone like Amelia to be so happy and to move around in this happiness. Happiness was a giving thing, an entity that made one’s heart swell; but, when one was not so used to it, when one was not so used to allowing themselves to be such a way, it took life instead of gave it.

That was the irony of it.

However, to hear that their wedding planner believed in the happiness of their wedding, to know that their wedding planner was one of the best in his field, and to finally meet him after months of trying, after all these, was a good thing. It took some of Amelia’s burden, allowed her room to breathe. It let her settle in quietly within her happiness, even if just for a little while, as there was somebody else around to do the moving for her. Happiness should be a giving thing, and here Amelia was, trying to regain a grip on herself, even if no one but herself had known she was slowly falling apart. No one was ever allowed to know these things, after all; not even Dylan who took hold of all of Amelia’s heart.

As Amelia and Dylan walked out of Mohamed’s office hand in hand, Amelia was breathing easier, smiling wider, and standing straighter. It was as though someone had put life back into her, as though someone had regrouped and recollected the remains of her. The events that had taken place in Mohamed’s office had soothed her --- only because she did not know.

No, Amelia did not know. She did not notice the way her wedding planner looked at her husband-to-be, nor did she notice how her husband-to-be looked back at her wedding planner. She had been oblivious to every little thing, especially of their night before her and of the moments they’d shared as she laid in bed waiting for Dylan to come home. If she did know these things, then maybe things for her would have been a little different. If she did know these things, then maybe this whole story would go down a different route. But she didn’t know, she didn’t know. So, when she walked out of Mohamed’s office, she was the way she was.

And Dylan was the complete opposite.

“Didn’t you like him?” Amelia’s voice tore through the silence that enveloped them as they walked back to their car. “He’s good at what he does, and you can tell he knows his stuff.” Her tone was affectionate, and if anything, a little as though she were in a dream-like state. “We should trust him, Dylan. I know, I know --- you don’t really have an opinion, for as long as we’re getting married, but. . . this really means a lot to me.”