Eloise, I Love You

A short story of love and loss.

Ever since he could remember he had been her friend. From the moment she twirled her hair around her finger he was wrapped.
Now as he sat next to her in class, she smiled at him and he wished now more than ever that he could tell her. But he was interrupted by the bell and the moment was gone. For the next couple of weeks he was always trying to hint it to her. Every time he was close the moment was lost. Why couldn’t he speak his feelings?
The years past by and it seemed that the moment would never arrive. Then on the evening of their year twelve prom, she calls him crying. She tells him that her date has bailed. When they were younger they had promised to go to the prom together. He saw this as his chance.
But as the evening went on he began to lose his nerve, how could he tell her now?
Later that night as he walked her home they sat on her front porch. She leaned toward him and kissed his cheek, thanking him for the night they had. Right as he was about to tell her she was called inside.
The years again dragged on, they stayed close friends, but he never had a chance to tell her. And now it was far to late, for she was getting married to another man. As she walked down the aisle he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful she looked in her white dress. He sat there in silence as he watched her take her vows, a tear prickled in his eye as he thought of how he had lost his chance.
Many, many years later after she had raised three lovely daughters, Rebbecca, Claire and Sara, who they themselves had raised children of their own it was to be her death. After the funeral her eldest daughter and her youngest grandchild came to speak to him, the little girl was carrying an old looking book.
“Harry,” her daughter Rebbecca said, “In the will this was left to you, it is mums diary from when she was in high school.”
Harry took the old book in his hand and got out his glasses to read. On the first page it said, ‘This book belongs to Eloisa May’ written in a very faded pink pen. A pen that he remembered was her favorite.
Later that night he lay in bed reading through her book. There were things about how she hated her maths teacher because he talked to much and things about her favorite television show. But mostly there were things about how she never seemed to have the chance to tell her Harry how she felt.
He placed the book aside and wept. It was far too late for both of them now.
A year or so later, Harry was on his deathbed, his family gathered around him as well as Eloise’s three daughters, Rebbecca, Claire and Sara. He had a chance to say goodbye to everyone before his heart finally stopped beating.
The light was blinding as he walked through it, on the other side he could clearly see Eloise waiting for him. She was a teenager again. She lept into his teenage arms and they wept. When they finally let go, he whispered in her ear,
“Eloise, I love you,”
She just smiled and kissed him.