Saying Goodbye

• Izma Jamshed, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2021

It was a glittering sky, full of benevolent jewels. I looked up from my phone, scanning for him, I frowned, I could feel the wrinkles forming on my forehead. He was late. He’d better have a good excuse this time, always making promises he couldn’t kee- “HEY AMY!” waving both his hands from the other side of the road, I could see his stupid grin even in the pitch black of night. He starts skipping towards me, I sigh, what a weirdo, a grown man skipping, I giggled, my anger fading with it. This idiot…always knows how to make me smile.
My eyes dashed towards the road, a faint light was approaching, taking no heed, I ushered him over, “I’M SORRY FOR COMING LATE!” here come the excuses, I rolled my eyes. The lights became brighter, coming closer and closer. That’s when I realized. The lights became blinding behind him. “STO-” my voice died out as the wheels screeched. And his body was flung like a ragdoll.
That was the gut-sinking moment that left acid in my mouth and tears in my eyes. My knees buckled as they gave out. Suddenly breathing became a challenge. The ringing was deafening. “Ma’am? Ma’am!? Can you hear me?!” The sound of others’ voices echoed and faded with my pulse. It was quiet, just the sound of my screaming heart.
He was right there, smiling, calling for her, HE WAS RIGHT THERE! Where did he go? He’s late, that’s right he’s late, any second now he’ll come skipping towards me. Any moment now.
…
“Ma’am?” The man towered over me.
I'd waited over two hours of silence and growing dread for anything information about him. But when the man hesitated and the lines on his face deepened, I froze in my tracks. “Is he..” the words sunk down into my chest at the pitiful shake of his head. “I’m sorry, he only has a few minutes.”
What did he say?
Each gasp tore down my throat and my mind raced even as I lost myself in the storm.
My strength had left me, even as I attempted to stand. My throat held back something between a sob and a shout. I had to see him. Through the blur of motion and color I followed the doctor. I would see him. And say goodbye.
The door swung open, lying there on the bed was him, motionless. His stifled breathing was the only sound in the room. I strode over to him. I grabbed his hand and held it tightly. Gazing at his face, his glasses off, and eyes barely open, I felt my throat tense up. The IV in his wrist punctured his pale skin, as it pumped medications into his veins. I didn’t want to cry, and I wasn’t much of a crier, I tried to stay tough, but I couldn’t stand looking at his emotionless face.
A weak smile etched at his face, barely visible from under the mask. Why was he smiling at a time like this? This idiot. His eyes fluttered open and closed, It almost seemed as if he was deliberately giving up. I held his hand, shaking I could feel his fading pulse. Shutting my eyes, I wished this was just a nightmare, and if I woke up it would all be gone. Gone.
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Beeeep.
I sighed, letting out a small, shriveled squeak.

Goodbye.