Never Say Goodbye

• Madeline McKenzie, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2010

As I sat there – content in my depressed silence – I allowed my precarious mind to process all that had happened, all that should have happened and everything that just … didn’t. The bouquet of golden carnations now clasped in my right hand was proof of that. Proof that sometimes life throws you a curve ball even when you least expect it. Proof that when those curve balls are thrown you aren’t supposed to be able to catch them. Proof that no matter how many times you drop the ball or even miss it completely there will always be another not far behind. Proof? I was the proof.
Raising my palms towards the sky I slowly closed my eyes, allowing the rain to gently flow over my features; the cool feeling against my skin enough to make me shiver slightly at its touch. How many times had I played in the rain as a child? Tormented my parents for hours on end despite their constant distressed calls in relation to the foreshadowing storm? How many times had Kevin and I listened, truthfully? Not once. Maybe we should have listened every once and a while. If we had maybe Kevin wouldn’t have been driving in the midst of that storm last night, maybe I wouldn’t be sitting here now; on the corner of Miller and Bristle; alone.
Alone; the word frightened me more than it ought to. Perhaps it was the prospect of facing this goodbye without someone else by my side that caused my heart to pound in haste. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the knowledge that no matter what happened, or what anyone said he wasn’t coming home. He was gone.
At that realisation I spun on my heel, preparing to run; to run as far away from here as I possibly could but I couldn’t. Not because I made the conscious decision to stay, but rather because a relatively large, warm mass was standing in my way.
“Let me go Nick,” I sobbed as my warm tears began seeping into the light grey of his shirt – staining it with a pooling darkness, “Please, just let me go.”
“Not until you say goodbye Lou,” He soothed as he lifted my chin so I was forced to stare into his emerald green eyes.
“I can’t bring myself to say it Nicky, he was my best friend,” I mumbled as more tears began to flood my pale cheeks.
“Then don’t,” he replied simply as I felt my brow furrow in confusion. As if to answer my unspoken question Nick took my small hand in his own and led the way across the desolate tarmac towards the small wooden cross wedged into the dirt.
The cross the only reminder that my best friend had ever lived; his name etched roughly onto the plane of wood allowing memories filled with joy and misfortune to come flooding back to me.
So I uttered the two words I knew I would never forget, “Hello Kevin.”