I Should Have Stayed...

• Abi Walsh, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2015

Her:
“I can still remember the first time you told me all about her – your eyes were shinning bright, your face beamed with happiness, you were so full of excitement and energy. You talked about her like she was the only person in the entire universe who was keeping the sun and the planets in their rightful places. You spoke about her like she was the only one. Maybe she was. I can still remember the first time you introduced me to her. She was indeed very pretty and charming and friendly. I saw how proud you were and nervous because you wanted my blessing. I saw the way you looked at her that day – your eyes were like a camera’s lens that only focused on her. Just her. Nobody else. I can still remember that one time you held my hand and got down on one knee while saying, “Will you be my girl?” I was so shocked that no words came out of my mouth. I came to my senses when you got up, hugged me, and whispered to my ear, “Do you think that’s enough to make her say yes?” I thought that was our chance. I thought wrong.
I can still remember the time when you called me at three in the morning, crying. You said she doesn’t want you anymore; that you don’t make her happy enough; that you are not the one for her. I rushed to your side and brought you home. I stayed with you in your room as you cried yourself to sleep, her name being whispered in between your loud sobs. It broke my heart to see you in so much pain. I can still remember that fine, sunny day when you told me that you got back together. You were exuberant. I just smiled. You told me you have to go and I just watched you walk away – with all my plans of a future with you, with all my hopes of a chance to be more than just a best friend to you. I waved to you one last time and you turned around and waved back. And just like that, I lost the only person I have ever loved.”

Him:
“I can't do that to her. I can't just vanish. I’ll leave her thinking about me every morning when she wakes up and every night before she goes to sleep, for a long, long time. Wondering what happened. Wondering whether she should still worry, or even care about me. Glancing at her phone all the time, hoping that the glow will reflect my name on the screen. Ignoring the fact that deep down she knows it won’t. I’ll become her biggest distraction. She won’t be able to concentrate, and she’ll see pieces of me in everyone she meets.
I can't leave her embarrassed to tell anyone she misses me, or feeling like she’ll look pathetic if she tells them she still loves me. Holding in her feelings and struggling to believe she's better than this. I can’t be a ghost. I can't mess with her head like that. I just can't. It's not fair. She's worth so much more than that, and I know it. And do you want to know the worst part? It's that I knew she loved me all along.”