His Journal - A Short Story

I’m not going to lie, I was going to miss having M as my roommate. He’s been my best friend, my one and only guy friend, since college. He had always been my go-to when I had issues at work or trouble with a boyfriend and, of course, I was always there for him when he needed support or the proverbial shoulder to cry on. We were each other’s partner in crime.

And next week he was getting married! I couldn’t believe it! And luckily for me, his fiancé, ___________, and I get along just as well as he and I get along…so much so that she asked me to be one of her bridesmaids. So, there’s none of the fear of losing my guy-friend to marriage…unless they have kids and move away to the suburbs. But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I was beside myself to be a part of his special day!

I was moving one of his boxes out of the way; a box packed with books, some of them from our college days, when some of the books perched at the top fell. One of them fell open. It looked like a journal. I had no idea he kept a journal. Well, he does like to write as a hobby so I guess that makes sense. I was about to place it back in the box when I happen to notice my name. Ok, fine; I flipped through the pages and that’s when I noticed my name on one of them! I knew I should respect his privacy…but wouldn’t you be curious as to what your best friend and roommate had to say about you?

An hour later M came by to pick up the rest of his boxes.

“You still haven’t finished packing?” He asked as he made his way to the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles of beer. The last two items of ours that were sitting in there. He popped them both open and handed one to me.

He held his up and said, “Our last drink together in our home of four years. Cheers.” We clinked our bottles together and took a swig.

I stared at him for a few seconds as he took one last look around the apartment. Our apartment. He caught me looking at him.

“You’re not going to start getting emotional on me are you?” He asked while wrapping his arm around my neck and kissing the top of my head.

“No!” I laughed. “I am going to miss you, though.”

“Me too.”

He tells me _________ made dinner plans for both of them with a couple of friends so he was going to grab his stuff and head home to get ready.

He grabbed a couple boxes and took them downstairs to his car. I stood in the middle of the living room staring at the front door. I thought about last New Years Eve. He had made dinner for us; the two of us. There were candles. He played my favorite CD. Then my phone rang. It was one of our friends telling us to join them at a party up the street. He wanted to stay in but I was in a party mood so I convinced him we should go. There was champagne flowing (of course) and at midnight I kissed my ex who was in attendance.

I was still standing in the same spot when he came back up for the last of his boxes.

“Whoa! You ok?” He asked. “You don’t look too good.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m great. I will be, at least.”

He picked up the last box and took a few steps toward me.

“Ok,” he said, and planted a kiss on my cheek, “I’ll talk to you during the week. And I’m sure __________will be calling you too; panicking about the dresses or flowers or something.”

Just as he was heading to the door, the journal fell to the floor. I reach down to pick it up and place it back in the pile.

I look up at him and he looked directly into my eyes. We stood at the doorway like this for some time, not saying a word. I nodded slightly and so did he, in return. We said goodbye, he turned and headed down the stairs.