Mayflower

It’s you and me standing on the corner of the sidewalk down the street from the pub(click:"the pub")+$dis[, which we just left because they unexpectedly started hosting karaoke]. If this were a movie, the camera would be across the street, shooting us with a long lens and shallow depth of field, with the two of us staged symmetrically on opposite ends of the frame(click:"opposite ends of the frame")+$dis[, emphasizing the negative space in between], even though in reality we can’t be more than a couple of feet [[apart->Para2]].

As we walked out of the bar together, I felt honored and privileged that you made me the last person you said goodbye to, and that it could happen outside, where we could be alone and hear ourselves talk(click: "hear ourselves talk")+$dis[. That felt important]. As we walked towards our parking spaces, we talked about how surreal it all feels and how frightening change can be. Then we came to this corner where we’ll have to diverge to get to our respective cars, and we [[stopped walking->Para3]].

The last few days have been even harder than I expected. Yesterday a surprise going-away party in the office, then today a goodbye lunch, and tonight a send-off at the bar(click:"goodbye")+$dis[. We can’t stop saying goodbye to you]. If it were anybody else it might seem like a bit much, but I went to them all; I wanted to savor every remaining minute with you(click:"every remaining minute")+$dis[, within socially acceptable limits,] while I still could. But I didn’t have much left to say after spilling my guts in an email last week with the things I knew I’d be too tongue-tied to say in person. (click: "tongue-tied")+$dis[[[Most of them, anyway.->Para4]]]

But when you hug me and tell me you love me, I have no difficulty replying, “Oh, I love you, too.” (click: "I love you")+$dis[The “oh” is less a word than an involuntary exhalation, a sigh of… relief? contentment? maybe just happiness at finally hearing you say those words in person after six years. I know they don’t mean quite the same thing to you as they do to me. But that’s OK, because I think you have at least some idea of what they mean to me(click: "idea")+$dis[ (you’re way too smart not to have picked up on it by now, and I’m not that good a liar)], and you were willing to say them to me anyway. It feels like we [[understand->Para5]] each other, and that’s honestly the best I could hope for.]

All of this is going through my head in a split-second as we embrace each other. I continue, “I’m gonna miss you so much.” (click: "miss you")+$dis[You return the sentiment and tell me again to take care of myself, and I say the same to you, even though I know that in your case I have nothing to worry about; you’re going to be just fine(click: "just fine")+$dis[. I am less certain about myself, but I will make the effort, because you seem very concerned about it]. I don’t want to let go(click: "let go")+$dis[. But I do, because I’m afraid of [[making it weird->Para6]]].]

We say our goodbyes, you first, and my reply is a quick and awkward “bye” and I immediately turn and start walking to my car. I instantly feel weird about how awkward that was. (click: "how awkward")+$dis[I look over my shoulder as you’re walking away and I want to say something else, about how we should do something together before you leave town, but I don’t(click: "I don’t")+$dis[; I can’t]. (click: "I can’t")+$dis[I regret that I didn’t get a picture of the two of us [[together->Para7]].]]

I think I might cry, but I can’t do that either. I get in my car, start it, and pull up “Under Pressure” to listen to on the drive home, imagining the karaoke duet that you had suggested we could do together if you hadn’t had to get home to your spouse and child. (click:"Under Pressure")+$dis[I sing David Bowie’s part. I feel like a sentimental fool. (click:"fool")+$dis[ I’ve never felt so sad and so happy at the same time. (align:"==>")+(box:"X=")[[end->Title]]]]

#Mayflower  ==> [[start->Para1]]

(set: $dis to (t8n: "dissolve")+(t8n-time: 2s))