- Short story: The final goodbye
- Written: July 17, 2007
I know I shouldn’t blame myself for what happened, but sometimes I can’t help thinking that if I had just done something different that day, if I would have chased after her or told her at a different time or place, things could’ve been different today.
I was 14 at the time. Sarah and I had been best friends since kindergarten, and we’d been dating for about a year. You may call it puppy love if you like, but I doubt I will ever find a friend as good as her. This warm day in the early summer season we were sitting at our usual spot, on a cliff under an old oak, viewing the open sea. We went to this spot almost every day after school or in the evenings. It was my favourite time of day, sitting there feeling the salty breeze on my skin, with her head gently in my knee, stroking her wavy hair. But today things were different. She was sitting straight up, back against the tree. You see, the problem was, my parents had told me the night before that we were moving abroad at the end of the summer. I obviously got upset. I’d never been away from Sarah for more than two weeks straight, and now I would be away from her months at a time, not being able to see her on a daily basis.
I hadn’t told her yet, but she knew. She’d known something wasn’t right since we met outside school that morning, but she never asked. She also knew I’d tell her when I was ready to.
“I’m going away,” I suddenly said, followed by a moment of silence. I watched her reaction closely. She didn’t move a muscle, just sat there staring at the horizon.
“Permanently?” was her short reply.
I didn’t answer. She understood.
I tried to keep my tears away, and I could see she did the same. I moved a little closer to her, attempting to put an arm around her. I wanted our last summer together to be the best yet. Surprisingly, she didn’t accept my comfort, but instead pushed my arm away and stood up.
“So I guess this is it then?” she said calmly. She couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.
“We still have all summer,” I said after a pause, feeling just as sorry for her as I did for myself. I couldn’t look her in the eye.
“And then what?” she asked, now with a sense of anger in her voice.
“Sarah, please,” I began, but didn’t know how to continue. Now I too stood up. I could understand how she felt. I felt it too, but at least it didn’t have to end right there and then, did it?
“Forget it,” she snapped and turned around.
“Sarah!” I tried, but she had no intentions to stay. I thought she just needed some time on her own, to let things sink in, so I didn’t run after her. That’s the last time I saw her.
I spent most of the day walking around town, collecting my thoughts. I didn’t want to leave Sarah. I’d know her for as long as I could remember, and the thought of us being apart from each other had never even crossed my mind before. I knew her so well, and she knew me. Or at least I thought that was the case. I couldn’t get over her sudden reaction earlier, and how it had taken me by surprise. I thought we’d be talking about the situation, sit there together under the oak tree until the sun went down, and just doing the best with our last time together. But of course, she needed some time, we could always talk tomorrow, I thought.
Later that evening I went to Sarah’s house. I just had to see how she was doing, and I couldn’t wait until the morning. I knocked on the door twice before entering. We’d been at each others house so often we were past the stage where we waited for someone to open the door years ago. I knew her parents very well, and she knew mine.
As I entered the house I called to see if anyone was around. There was no reply, but as I looked in to the living room, I saw Sarah’s mother sitting in the sofa, crying. Her husband was holding her, and although I’m not sure, I think he was crying too.
I wanted to ask what had happened, but I just couldn’t get any words out of my mouth. I just stood there, watching the two.
“I think it’s best if you leave.” It was the father who said something. “We need to be alone.”
I didn’t ask any questions, just turned around and walked out the door. I was confused and thoughts were spinning around in my head. Wasn’t Sarah at home, or was she avoiding me? And what was wrong with her parents?
After leaving the house, I didn’t feel like going home. There was nothing there for me. I went back to the oak tree, hoping Sarah would be there. She wasn’t.
I got home unusually late that evening, to the yelling of my worried parents. I didn’t listen. Then my mother said that Sarah’s father had called, and that he’d asked her to get me to call him back when I got home. That caught my attention.
It was Sarah’s father who picked up the phone when I made the call. His voice was shaking. He began by apologizing for sending me away earlier, and he felt he had to explain why. After all, I was like part of the family, he said.
It was all in the newspaper the day after. According to the police, the driver hadn’t seen her coming, and she’d been looking the other way. I remember my first thought being that it was all my fault. The timing was so perfect.
It’s been eighteen years since that day now. I have a wife and two children, a boy and a girl, and a job that I like. I’m over the stage where I blame myself for what happened, but on occasions I still wonder what would have happened if I had acted just slightly different that day. Sure, she might not have been the true love, but she certainly was the best friend I’ve ever had.
