What goodbyes are made of (Part 6)

There was a restaurant near a busy train station.

A boy and a girl sat at a corner table, facing each other.

Out of the corner of her eye, the girl noticed the waiter standing by the counter. She was almost certain he was trying his best not to stare but her vision was getting blurry. She blinked quickly and took a sip of the smoothie in front of her. The lights were too bright and other people’s laughter sounded too loud inside the restaurant. The smoothie tasted too sweet and the boy felt too far away from her. She could have ordered a cup of coffee but she didn’t because she knew she would have trouble falling asleep. She would find out later that she didn’t need caffeine to keep her awake through that night and many other nights that followed.

The boy looked at his watch and said, “It’s getting late. I need to go back soon.”

The girl didn’t need Google Translate to know that he actually meant, “It’s time for me to leave you.” The words “Don’t go” bubbled up in her throat like hot lava.

She needed a moment.

She nodded, reached for the bill and fumbled with her coat. Just to keep him a little while longer.

But then he said, “Before I forget,” and slid the key to her apartment across the table. She half-expected to see blood dripping from the key because it sure felt like he just stabbed her heart with it. For a brief second, she had to squeeze her hands together to stop them from clutching at her heart.

On their way back to the station, the boy said, “Don’t be a stranger. Let's keep in touch.” The girl searched for his eyes but he wouldn’t look at her. She tried to smile and replied, “You too.”

The girl didn’t know it then but it was not the only lie the boy told her that night.

Before they parted, the girl asked the boy for one last hug. He held her awkwardly and patted her back, like he was consoling a child. And like a child, she wanted to scream and throw a tantrum in the middle of a busy train station because that was not how she wanted to remember their last moment – fleeting and empty.  

Afterwards, the girl would stand on the platform for a while, watching the trains pass by, like someone at the movie theatre who kept waiting to see if there’s anything more as the ending credits were rolling. Then, she would get on the train home, repeating a line she had read before in her head over and over, “…you must go on. I can’t go on. I will go on.”

The girl did not know it then but she would go on. In the days and months that followed, she would keep thinking back on this night and remember the hurt and the sadness. But she would also remember how she did not beg him to stay and how she did not look back to see him walk out of her life. How she was strong and sincere and true until the end. And she would be proud of herself.

Photo by Ying Zhu on Unsplash