After All the Goodbye

The rain had been falling for almost an hour. Brittany stood beside the window, watching drops of water race each other down the glass. She had always loved the rain. It made the world feel quieter, like everyone outside had finally decided to slow down. Tonight, though, the rain didn't comfort her. It only made the silence in her apartment feel heavier. On the small table beside her was a photograph. Brittany picked it up carefully. She was smiling in the picture, her head resting against Johnson's shoulder. He was smiling too, although she remembered how he'd complained about taking the picture. "One picture, Brittany," he'd said that afternoon. "You act like we're going to disappear tomorrow." She had laughed. "Maybe I just want something to remember you by." Johnson had looked at her strangely then. She didn't know why. Now, two years later, she understood. Sometimes, people leave long before they actually say goodbye. Brittany put the photograph down and glanced at the clock. 9:47 p.m. Her phone vibrated on the couch. She already knew who it was. For a few seconds, she simply stared at the screen. Johnson. Her heart gave an annoying little jump. She hated that it still did that. She picked up the phone. «Can we talk?» That was all. Three words. Three words from the man who had broken her heart and somehow still had the power to make it beat faster. Brittany typed a reply. There's nothing left to talk about. She stared at it. Then deleted it. She typed again. What do you want? She sent it before she could change her mind. The reply came almost immediately. «To see you.» Brittany closed her eyes. "No." The word came out softly. She didn't know if she was talking to Johnson or herself. A knock sounded at her door. Brittany froze. Another knock. She walked slowly toward the door and looked through the peephole. Johnson. Her hand remained on the doorknob, but she didn't open it. "Go away," she whispered. "I know you're there." His voice. That stupidly familiar voice. The same voice that used to calm her when she couldn't sleep. The same voice that had once whispered, I'll never leave you. Brittany opened the door. Johnson stood in the hallway, soaked from the rain. His dark hair was wet, and water dripped from the sleeve of his jacket. For a moment, neither of them spoke. He looked older. Not old. Just different. His eyes were tired, and there was something in them Brittany couldn't quite understand. "You shouldn't be here," she said. "I know." "Then why are you?" Johnson swallowed. "Because I couldn't stay away." Brittany almost laughed. Almost. "That's what you came here to say?" "No." "Then say what you came to say." Johnson looked at her for several seconds. "I made a mistake." Brittany's expression hardened. "You're two years late." "I know." "You don't get to disappear for two years and suddenly show up at my door because you regret it." "I know." "Stop saying you know." He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry." Those words hurt more than she expected. Brittany stepped back. "Sorry doesn't fix everything." "I didn't come here because I thought it would." "Then why?" "Because I need you to know the truth." She stared at him. "What truth?" Johnson took a slow breath. "Why I left." Brittany's fingers tightened around the edge of the door. She had spent two years wondering. Two years replaying their final conversation. Two years asking herself what she'd done wrong. She had convinced herself that Johnson had simply stopped loving her. That explanation had been easier to live with than the uncertainty. "There's nothing you can tell me that will change what happened." "Maybe not." He looked directly into her eyes. "But you deserve to know." Before Brittany could answer, another voice came from behind her. "Brittany?" She turned. Williams stood in the living room holding two mugs of coffee. He was her best friend, her unofficial bodyguard, and the person who had helped her survive the months after Johnson left. Williams looked from Brittany to Johnson. His expression changed immediately. "Oh." Johnson glanced at him. "Hey, Williams." Williams didn't return the greeting. Instead, he looked at Brittany. "Do you want me to stay?" Brittany didn't know what to say. Johnson took a step backward. "I'll leave." Williams folded his arms. "Good idea." "William," Brittany said quietly. Williams looked at her. "Sorry." Johnson turned toward the stairs. "Johnson." He stopped. Brittany surprised herself by saying his name. He looked back. She wanted to tell him to leave forever. She wanted to ask him why. She wanted to hug him. She wanted to slap him. Most of all, she wanted her heart to stop feeling like it belonged to someone who had already walked away from it. "Come tomorrow," she said. Williams looked at her sharply. Johnson nodded. "What time?" "Six." "I'll be here." He walked away. Brittany watched him disappear down the stairs. Only when she closed the door did she realize she was holding her breath. Williams placed the coffee on the table. "You shouldn't have agreed to see him." "I know." "Then why did you?" Brittany looked at the photograph on the table. "Because after all this time, I still want to know why." Williams sighed. "You know he could hurt you again." "I know." "And you still love him?" Brittany didn't answer. She didn't need to. Williams understood. The next evening, Brittany sat across from Johnson at a small café downtown. It was the same café where they had their first date. She almost changed the location when Johnson suggested it. But some part of her wanted to see if the place still felt the same. It didn't. Or maybe she was the one who had changed. Johnson sat across from her, his hands wrapped around a cup of coffee he hadn't touched. "I was scared," he finally said. Brittany frowned. "Scared of what?" "Losing you." She almost smiled. "That makes no sense." "I know." "You left because you were scared of losing me?" Johnson nodded. "My father had been sick for months. I didn't tell you how bad it was. Then he died." Brittany's face softened. "I didn't know." "I didn't tell you." "Why?" "Because I thought I had to handle everything myself." He looked down. "My family was falling apart. My mother couldn't cope. My younger sister needed me. I was struggling financially. And every time I looked at you, I kept thinking about how much I wanted to give you a good life." Brittany's eyes filled with tears. "So you decided to give me nothing?" Johnson closed his eyes. "Yes." She shook her head. "That was your answer?" "I thought if I pushed you away, you'd eventually hate me." "Well..." He looked up. "Did it work?" Brittany wiped a tear from her cheek. "No." His face fell. "I tried," she whispered. "God, Johnson, I tried so hard." "I know." "You don't know." Her voice cracked. "You weren't there when I couldn't sleep. You weren't there when I kept checking my phone hoping you'd call. You weren't there when people asked me what happened and I had no answer." Johnson's eyes became wet. "I wanted to call you every day." "But you didn't." "I know." "I waited for you." "I know." "Then why come back now?" Johnson was silent. That silence frightened her more than anything he'd said. Finally, he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small envelope. He placed it on the table. "I wrote this two years ago." Brittany stared at it. "I couldn't send it." "Why?" "Because I was afraid." She looked at the envelope but didn't touch it. "What does it say?" Johnson looked at her. "The truth." Brittany slowly picked it up. Her hands trembled. She opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. She unfolded it. The handwriting was unmistakably his. The first sentence made her heart stop. Dear Brittany, If you're reading this, then I've finally found the courage to tell you that leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. Brittany stopped reading. She looked across the table. Johnson was already standing. "Read it when you're ready." "Where are you going?" "I'll give you some time." He walked toward the door. Brittany watched him leave. For the second time in two years, she was left sitting alone with a goodbye. But this time, something was different. She looked down at the letter in her hands. Maybe this wasn't the end. Maybe it was the beginning of something neither of them had been brave enough to face. Outside, Johnson stopped beneath the café sign. He looked back through the window. Brittany was still there. Their eyes met. Neither smiled. Neither waved. But neither looked away. And for the first time in two years, Brittany wondered if some goodbyes were never really goodbyes at all.