He finishes his story and his tea, tipping his head back to get the last drops. He turns and looks me in the eyes.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” he said, smiling just the faintest bit, standing up.
Oh, but I have, I think. I’m not the same girl you married so long ago. The girl terrified of growing old alone, only to feel lonely in our couple-ship, despite her best efforts. But I forgive that girl’s many, many mistakes, as I’ve forgiven you for all your trespasses.
I stand up, too. I forgot how tall you are. You step toward me and hesitate – are we hugging? Yes, I guess we are, I think as your big arms wrap around me. I hug you back, your embrace and scent like muscle memory from decades past. Your whisper is barely audible in my ear, “Funny how things work out.”
I step away and nod, a small smile forming. “Yeah,” I manage, with a final shrug. “It really is.” Funny how love comes and goes like that.
You turn and look into my eyes for a moment longer, raising one hand into a little salute at your temple, your mouth a firm line. You turn to toss away your cup and catch the swinging door in the same motion, and you are gone.
I think the last time I heard your voice was on a voicemail message years ago, long deleted, that said, ‘Goodbye
forever,’ and I thought it was, until today.
But this moment never happened. Could never happen now.
Because instead, I’m standing in my sunny kitchen on a beautiful fall day, reading your obituary on my phone.
I got the text this morning from a friend, and I had to see it for myself. It’s a lovely tribute, listing your sons and their mother, and my heart breaks for their loss.
I lost you years ago. The time for mourning what we had has come and gone. But part of me is crushed all over again.
From time to time, I’ve replayed many moments we shared, but
today I let myself sink into you, into us, in happier times. I remember your mischievous smile. Your laugh. We were basically kids, so young, so stupid, so full of hope and promise. Walking around the city, holding hands, a little drunk, a little in love, feeling the immortality of youth
Only that’s never true. We knew it then; I ache with the reality of it now. I stood there for a little longer than I meant to, holding my phone, holding the past.
Once upon a time, you gave me the Wildflowers CD as a birthday gift. I listened to the whole album today, and kept you close to me, one last time.