Uncomfortably drifting

It was late on one of those midsummer nights, just the type of night every pathetic little school kid dreams of. I was with someone who meant the world to me, but they weren’t a lover or family member, no, they were my best friend.

We were the type of friends that knew everything about the other one, the type of friends that people always assumed were either siblings or lovers. The thought never occurred to them that we could just be platonic. We were so close that if we wanted to we could drop everything and start dating, and absolutely nothing would change between us, we’d just add a more physical side to the relationship. Trust me, it was one of those things where, you don’t realize how great it is to have them, until you’ve had them but for some reason lost them temporarily. Thankfully for me, I realized this before it was too late, and I’ve acknowledged that we share this kind of a friendship and we really don’t want to screw it up drifting apart.

Anyway, we were out in her backyard sitting by a fire that we had build out of pure angst at her parents saying that we would most likely drift apart once we graduated. I told them that we still had the technologies of the modern day, such as teleportation of voices from one telecommunication device to another, the same telecommunicators could also transport letters from one to the other at the speed of light. Her parents laughed at this, not because they didn’t think I was serious, so much as the way worded it.

The truth is, I didn’t know what the hell I was going to do after graduation. I could’ve go to some machine of a University, but if I had done that, I would have been selling my soul to the devil and my grandchildren would be paying off the debt I accumulated from when I was eighteen. I could stay home, but my parents wouldn’t be too fond of that idea. Or my final option, which is my personal favorite, I could go to Europe and see what opportunity for me lies there. At the end of the day, I’d be better off selling my soul to the devil and going to college, then going to Europe later. But I just didn’t know. At the end of it all, I decided that it was in my best interest to go to university.

The sky was alive tonight, there were a million bright dots accented by a vibrant shades of a royal purple, accompanied by a great yellow moon. It was something straight out of a Van Gogh painting. I was surrounded by indescribable beauty.

She was as vibrant as the sky that night, not only in beauty, but also in personality. The sparkle in the eyes that would make Colombian emeralds jealous. Those were the same eyes that when you looked at them in such a way during conversation that you lose focus on what she’s saying and focus on how they would leave Hemingway at a loss for words.And the life shined through those emerald orbs like you would not believe. Her bistre blanket of hair fell down her back perfectly, it’s almost as though she didn’t even have to try to make it look good. The chords ringing from her sounded like the song of a bird, soft, sweet, and unwavering.

We discussed everything from what was going on in school, to pointless gossip, to politics, and everything in between.

But there was no force natural or supernatural that was going to stop what was to come over the next year. The night by the fire and under the stars was all before the cancer came in and ruined a great thing. It was all before the long days and nights at the hospital. Before the light and life in her beautiful green eyes started to fade. Prior to the loss of her hair due to chemo and radiation. But among all of these efforts we still lost her.

The one thing I told her every time before I said goodbye, and especially before that last goodbye on that sad, rainy Tuesday afternoon, was three small words that would mean the world to hear it from the right person. I told her that I loved her every time. And although she never said it back, I know she loved me too.

And now I stand here, on this little patch of dirt to say goodbye for the last time in my life. I am but an old man, I eventually found someone else to share my love with, but it wasn’t the same. I loved her more than I would anyone else. Now a great-grandfather, I am preparing say goodbye to my family, and once again, say hello to her. I turn back to my son’s car, a dying man, but a loving man all the same.

I went home, and later that night, unlike the way I first met her, accidentally crashing into her in the hallway, we met again.

Solemnly, I say “hello, old friend, how are you?”

She kindly responded, in the same singsong voice that she always had, “hello, I’ve missed you.”

And with that we have our long walk into the sunset. And it was a lovely one. It was like that last night by the fire.

Author's Note

I hope this breaks all of your tiny hearts.

Reviews

[Bhumika Devkota]

Very touching story, well done

[LJB]

I am at loss for words. This is such a touching story. I love your word choice and imagery. I especially like the reference to the Van Gogh painting. Yes, it did break my tiny heart.