“I know,” he says. His mouth reaches for mine again, and I savor him, every sweet drop of him.
We make love one last time, bodies tangled in cozy throws, kisses stolen, and words unspoken. My chest aches with every touch, every breath, and every kiss because I know these are our last.
I fall asleep in his arms, and I weep quietly as I drift away from him. The only flawed part of a perfect moment is its ending.
* * *
It’s gloomy and rainy out, and it feels like the worst day of my life. I’m looking forward to seeing the kids and my friends again, and little Elsie too, but I don’t want to leave Eli.
“You should try to grab something before the flight,” Eli says. “You should really eat something.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t touch my breakfast,” I say apologetically. “I can barely breathe, let alone eat.”
I can’t look at him. Every time I do, it hurts. This goodbye feels like the most painful thing in the world. A person crashes into my life, almost as if he fell from the sky, like we were meant to meet, meant to be friends. He changed my life, made me feel alive again, and now I’m supposed to say goodbye forever, never speak a word to him again, completely lose touch? I will never know if he’s happy. I won’t know if he ever finds love and gets married, ever has kids. I won’t get to hear his story.
I’ve cried too much already, and I promised myself that I wouldn’t shed another tear, well, not until I’ve said goodbye, at least.
Following check-in, he walks me to security, and we both stop and stand quietly in front of each other. We study each other, one last time, and mark each other to memory; every detail, every quirk. I take in the way his rebel hair always sticks up a little, his tattered hippie bracelets against the soft dark hair on his wrists, his perfect lips and dark brows, his stylish black suede jacket, and most of all, those eyes that have owned me ever since that first time I saw him on the screen of my phone.
I realize this is it. This is the last time I’ll ever see his lovely face, ever hear his soft voice, ever get to touch him, and smell him, and taste his lips. This is the end.
“This is it, I guess,” he says. He doesn’t sound like himself. His voice is too monotone, it has lost all its music and liveliness.
“I guess,” I say, wanting to cry and struggling not to. “I noticed that you blocked all my accounts last night.”
He shrugs and stares at his feet. “I’m sorry about that… I was angry.” After a beat, “But it’s the way it needs to stay, doesn’t it? Zero contact?”
God, I don’t think I can do this. I know I can’t do it like this — without tears, pretending that we’re both fine, and that everything will be okay.
I finally give up and let go.
I let the tears fall, and I nod. “Yes, it’s the way it needs to be. I promised John.”
Eli takes me into his arms, and I press my tear stroked face against his chest and hold on for dear life. I don’t want to let go.
“This way… you don’t need to say goodbye,” he says. “I’ve already done it for you.”
I cry harder. “This hurts.”
“I know,” he says.
“It hurts so much.” I press myself harder against him, as if I could somehow disappear into him, become part of him.
“What did you write?” he asks. “On that piece of paper, yesterday.”
The messages were meant to remain secret, but we both know we’ll never speak again.
I pull away, wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater, and look up at him. “I wrote, ‘In a perfect world, I’d never have to say goodbye to Eli.’”
He smiles.
God, I’m going to miss that smile.
“What did you write?” I ask.
“Be happy, my beautiful Gabriella,” he says.
I rest my head against him one last time.
