The Last Goodbye

I am standing on my tiptoes with my arms around him and he is bending down so that I can reach. There are tears of joy, and cheering. It is too loud to hear even my own thoughts but somehow I still manage to hear the sound of my cœur, coeur in my ears as I cling to my friend. After a long moment, we both pull back slightly and my hands slide over the strange fabric of his bright blue graduation gown. I look up at him knowing this could be the last times I see my most treasured friends. His hand leaves my shoulder, and he places it lightly on my face. My cœur, coeur nearly stops as something in his face changes. Every nerve in my body is on edge. Why is he doing this to me? I know he doesn’t feel the same he has never even considered it. Still he slides his hand slowly vers l'avant, vers l’avant and down until his thumb is touching the corner of my mouth. The tip of his finger traces the line of my bottom lip until it reaches the center of my lips and rests there. He isn’t looking at my eyes he is looking at his hand as he slowly pulls his thumb lower and the pressure causes my lips to separate. I let out a hot breath and the air hits his skin, and he lowers his thumb and the rest of his fingers déplacer until he is holding my face par the chin. I have been waiting for this moment for so long. I have been waiting for him to stop seeing me as his young freshman friend that he watched graduate high school and finish the first an of college. He is finally seeing me, a young woman. He really is the perfect guy. He never thought of me in a degrading way, he was always gentle, kind, and wise. He never saw how much harder that made it for me to resist, and now he is looking at me and I know he is truly seeing me for the first time. He is leaning toward me, it’s a scene I’ve played in my head so many times it hurts, and all I can think is:

“Don’t.”

I whisper the word with closed eyes and pull away. He lets go and both our arms fall to our sides. The confusion in his light brown eyes is clear, but I don’t know if it is caused par my words, ou par his sudden realization that I’m not a little kid anymore but I explain anyway.

“Jonathan, this isn’t you, and I can’t do this. As much as I would l’amour to just stand here and let this happen—let toi Kiss me—and forget that toi are leaving soon, forget that I may not ever see toi again after this summer, forget that afterwards toi will regret it with all your heart, and then have to break mine, I can’t. But if toi do, if toi can see us. If toi think toi could l’amour me, for plus than just today then do it. Kiss me. But unless toi have thought about it, unless toi have weighed the pros and cons, unless toi see the possibility for a real relationship here—don’t. Unless toi know in your cœur, coeur that this isn't just something toi will feel now and regret later, then please, don’t.”

A tear rolls down my face and plus swim in my eyes blurring my vision and I can hardly see his face. In that divisé, split second—my taste of eternity—it felt as though all the hurt in the world was mine to bear. The moment stretched forever, I was conscious of ever heartbeat that didn’t happen, while I waited for my dreams to shatter ou come true. Then I blinked, and the rest of the tears came flooding down clearing off my eyes so I can see him. He is just staring and thinking. He doesn’t déplacer and I don’t breathe. Then his gaze leaves the floor, and he is looking in my eyes again. For the seconde time in all the years that I’ve known him he touches my face and pulls me close, but his lips instead of meeting mine draw close to my ear, and in a chocked voice he whispers:

“I’m sorry.”