saying goodbye

It had been a year since I'd left, and had returned for a brief visit. My sister was leaving, and I had come back to say goodbye. She was gone now, and I wandered around campus, marveling at how little had changed in the scenery, but how it all somehow seemed different. It was no longer a part of me, but merely memories, a part of my past. My life had moved on, had moved east.

Then I heard his voice. A voice from an even more distant past, but one that I could never forget. No, I had spent too many nights dreaming of it, and too many days absorbed in its words, consumed by their meaning, knowing that every moment established a deeper and stronger connection with him. But those days were over. He was married now, happily married, and had a son. I walked hesitantly toward him, unsure of what to say or if I should say anything at all. After all, he was married. And, although years had passed since I last longed for and craved his love, his wife knew me and of our past. She had been present for most of it, since the three of us had grown up in the same neighborhood. I knew that I had moved on, but was unsure if she completely believed it, or if the past still haunted her. My past, with him.

But it was too late. He saw me, and walked towards me.

Come have dinner with us.

Ummm... I don't know.

Have dinner with us. Tonight. I'll have her call you.

And that was that. I spent the evening watching them interact, as husband and wife. They played with their son, discussed plans. I told them about the men who had come in and out of my life, and how I was still looking for one who would enter and stay for good. He talked about school, she, about her child. He and I had needed each other for a time, but that time was over, for both of us. They had each other now, and gave each other what they both needed. And I had been provided with everything I needed and more, through other men and other means. And I was glad he hadn't chosen me.