The Last Goodbye

Painted ceilings held up by gold pillars. Men and women in their dazzling array of ball gowns and tuxedos. People cheering and laughing. Horns blaring, violins singing. Flutes whistling their delicate melody, and the trumpet balancing it out to the best of its ability. The opera house is packed with people tonight.

I glance behind me in the crowd. Hundreds of people’s voices crash against each other, and it’s hard to hear beyond the din. Liam stands there, amid his friends, chatting and laughing with them. An escort begins to shove me towards the door, resulting in collisions with several other people. I turn my head again to see him, willing him every second to look at me. To say goodbye one last time. But he doesn’t look at me, not for a while. Then from a sudden impulse I call his name; I have to say goodbye. My escort pushes me to the door, but I resist and watch Liam’s eyes scan the crowd for me. After what seems like minutes--but in all probability were actually milliseconds--our eyes meet. Behind his I detect some regret, sadness maybe. He furrows his brows, and I see his lips form my name, but I can’t hear him from this distance. “Goodbye!” I call out, my voice more frantic than I meant it to be. 

Suddenly I’m rubbing my arms for warmth in the chilly night air with my escort’s hand pressing my back, ushering me along to the limo. Yup, I got a limo. And I hate it. My escort gets on my nerves too, even though a part of me knows he is just doing his job. But is he? So many people who work for my stupid-rich father seem to constantly have their own motives. And so do I, if I’m being honest. Only I’m not on a quest for wealth or fame, just a quest to get out of this wretched city and cursed cycle of complying with my father’s plans. It’s so hard though, my way out. Right now I see only a glimmer of hope, but sometimes shadows dim it, or block it altogether. My father is famous for his genius at technology, but what is less known is that he trades with terrorist groups who pay dirty blood-money. My mother ran away when I was seven, leaving me these past fifteen years to raise myself and teach myself morals and values--considering the fact that dear ol’ dad was ever consumed with his work. Treachery, more like. The moment I found out, I was disgusted. 

Liam, the only true friend I ever had, was the son of our housekeeper. So naturally we stuck together… until I told him this. It was so strange, the way it all happened--not at all the way I thought it would play out. It was days after my father pulled me into his confidence--an unwise decision, I think--and I felt like I could burst if I didn’t tell anyone, even though I’m sure my dad could kill me and frame it as an accident (suicide would bring attention to him; why would Lawson’s wife run away and his only child commit suicide?). So I met up with Liam and told him the whole thing about my dad selling to terrorist groups in Saudi-Arabia. He stayed silent for a moment, then he asked me if I was going to go along with it and work for my father still. That’s when I cracked. I didn’t mean to start crying, but before I knew it tears were streaming down my face and I was blubbering to him that I didn’t have a choice or else he would kill me. Liam nodded and wrapped his arms around me. That helped a little; there was always something comforting about being in his embrace. Something familiar, like the beat of his heart that would go up when we used to sneak around the mansion together. Or the smell of his cologne that was at first so strange when he began to wear it. 

But then he pulled away and whispered, “Then go. But know that you have the blood of hundreds on your hands.” He walked away, sighing. That was it. Until three weeks ago. 

May 3rd through May 24 was this “retreat” for people who worked exclusively in the technology world. No work, no seminars or lectures, this was purely recreational. Based in Paris, France, it was going to be a dream. But not for me. My father introduced the idea to me two days before. I adamantly fought against it, but he threatened me. Yes, I say it lightly because it’s not unusual--quite the opposite. But his threats are not empty, and if you want to save your skin, compliance is the way to go. So off I went, with three dazzling ball gowns, an evening dress for every night, and thankfully whatever I chose for the day. The flight was smooth, no expense for my trip had been spared, that was for sure; a private jet with a complete kitchen and suite inside, not to mention my escort, Correy. He’s a strange sort of fellow that reminds me of a highly intelligent duck; I know no better way to describe him. He is very punctual, very matter-of-fact, and very self-absorbed. I wish I could get him fired. Maybe that is cruel of me, but he doesn’t do his job well; part of being a good escort is a person’s soft skills, not just doing whatever their precious master wants them to do. 

When we arrived in Paris, we were driven straight to the hotel to change for the evening. The required costume was comfortable but formal walking shoes and an evening dress for the Jardin des Plantes. Correy left me not a second after we were through the gates, and I was left to socialize myself. I mingled with a few of the other guests, mostly older couples who were very down-to-earth and approachable. A buffet bar was opened, and the musicians moved to the courtyard under stringed lights, beginning the dancing. I held in my hand a dainty cup of soda, as alcohol isn’t exactly my forte, and hovered near the end of the table. In hopes of appearing graceful, I sipped at it every now and then, and feigned amusement; having no set friend to tag along with sucked all the the joy out of it, save the chocolate cake. Until I saw him. Not three feet away floated a familiar, charming voice that I had not heard for three years. Immediately interested, I turned to see if it actually could be Liam, and to my surprise, I was not disappointed. 

There the chap stood, tall and handsome, with his dark hair and grey eyes--and standing surrounded by a chortling group of women. I briefly wondered how he had acquired an invitation before feeling my eyes glued to him. His crisp white shirt and blue tie complimented him wonderfully, and his hair looked so neat combed back like that. His eyes sparkled--but with a shallow sort of interest, I noticed--and he laughed whenever it was called for. He was a perfect gentleman. And oh, I wish for the world he wasn’t. 

Realizing my face was turning red, I turned and was about to walk to the other end of the room, when the object of my observation called out, “Hey, Lex. Still alive, are you?” I spun around, suddenly furious with him, and calmly replied, “No thanks to you, Liam.” 

“Ha. Like you could live without me.” The women around him giggled and exchanged glances. Since when was honest, hardworking, valiant Liam a drunkard and a flirt?

“You must be forgetting the last few years,” was my sweet response as I stared holes into his head. “Naw, ‘Lexa, there hasn’t been any gap of time between us.”

“You want to play this game, Liam? Watch me.” 

As a totally rash action, I hooked my arm around a charmer beside me--who I swear I never met in my life--and smiled up at him, imploring quite to his surprise, “Like a dance?” I smirked at Liam as the man puffed up and led me to the dance floor. Behind us, I heard one of the women tell him confidentially, “She’s not worth a cent if she can’t see what you are.” I kept an amused smile plastered on my face for my partner, but inwardly my stomach churned. If she sees ‘what’ you are? Liam is no “what.” 

` My partner and I made small talk, and apparently his name is Daniel. He’s from Kentucky and works for his brother who was attending the retreat as well with his wife. I told him my father is in the business, I’m from New York, and that my favorite color is yellow. That’s when I mentally facepalmed. What in the heck. Thankfully Daniel just laughed, and waved it off, telling me I was “cute.” I blushed purposefully and whispered my thanks, trying not to visibly cringe. However, not ten minutes had passed when I saw Liam tap Daniel’s shoulder, asking for a turn. Daniel politely gave me to him, and when he slid his arm around my waist, my breath hitched. Dang it--I did not mean it that way! I wanted to tell him, but that would only make the smirk on his face wider. 

“So,” I began sarcastically, avoiding the increasingly awkward silence that seemed at that moment to be my doom. “What brings you to this place of poison and death?” His expression turned to stone, taking me by surprise. “An offer.” 

“An offer, I expect, that does not have to do with selling to terrorists,” I quipped. “An offer, I suppose, that has by some evil spell turned you into a drunken flirt.” I glanced up at him. He looked hurt. I should’ve stopped--he didn't even smell like booze. But I didn’t. Instead, I kept on the jabs. “One of those sleazeballs who takes their pleasure from women, who turns their admirable record into something all about money and machines. When was it, Liam? How long have you been in this disgusting state?” I glared at him, my coolness hopefully getting through. His voice came out even in answer, but not bereft of emotion. “This is not who I am--”

“Oh no, honey, you’re a ‘what’ now, according to that blonde twit.” Shoot. That crossed the line. But instead of leaving me on the dance floor, Liam tightened his grip around me and guided me inside to the lobby where there wasn’t another soul to be seen. “What has happened to you, Lex?!” He demanded sternly. “What has your father turned you into? A sarcastic monster who feeds on others failures?” That got to me. 

“Liam, I am sorry. I’m not usually like this, I promise, it’s just--”

“Well how am I supposed to know? It’s not like we’ve been in contact these last three years.” His icy tone sent shivers down my spine. 

“I thought you broke it off when I told you about my father. You hugged me, you comforted me, and then you walked away! You walked away, Liam. You, the only real friend I have ever had, just left me in my trouble and my confusion! You don’t think I was hoping you would call that night, or I waited for weeks for some sign from you confirming anything? And I come here, to Paris, and I see you with a glass of wine in your hand, laughing and flirting with women all around you, flirting with me. How is that supposed to make me feel? Up until three years ago, you were the only thing I had. I never dreamed of finding a boyfriend or dating because I had you. What… just please explain this to me,” I finished weakly. I wanted to apologize for what I said, but I recognized that would take the impact off of what I just said. I had wriggled out of his grasp at the start of my speech, and now he just stared holes into the ground. 

“If you want my answer, Alexa, you have to listen to me.” 

I nod. He continues, “I was confused. I knew what you were doing was wrong, but the fact that you could die was such a hard thing to swallow, I needed time to think. To process it. But when the time came, a few days later, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to you. It wasn’t because of anything you had done, it was because of my own selfishness. I couldn’t fix that situation so I shied away from it. But because I realized I couldn’t face you, I realized I’d have to find something else. You were a part of my old life. So was my mother. And so was the rest of my family and everyone I knew. And it hurt so, so much,” here his voice was filled with emotion, and I found myself on the verge of tears. “But I didn’t see any other way that I was--that I was brave enough to take. I realize now I was a coward. And I was a coward for calling you out tonight as well. My offer is from a man in California who owns a large solar panel company. He wants me to take a position, and he offered for me to go on this trip, as it would more than likely seal the deal. And I thought that on this trip, I would have a new experience, be someone else for a change. But it...it didn’t turn out how I planned. And then I saw you, and you were so pretty and established, and I didn’t know how to respond. I’m sorry Alexa.” 

At that moment I was very conscious of my tears, and I whispered, “I forgive you.” I kept my eyes on the ground, waiting for what he would say next, but before I could stop it, I added, “I love you.” In my peripheral I saw him advance toward me and felt his arms around me, my head suddenly against his shoulder. “You do?” He asked in a voice that sounds like it distrusted itself. I took a deep breath in and answered, “I do.” Liam sighed and held me closer. “I love you too, Alexa.” 

For the next three weeks we stuck around each other and did everything together. We teased and flirted--nothing inappropriate, thank goodness--and all in all had a wonderful time. Those bittersweet memories I will keep in my heart forever. I say bittersweet because when we were nearing the end of our time together, the space between us was rich with emotion, and a silent dread hung in a veil over us. When we arrived at the Palais Garnier tonight, it was a strangely solemn and joyful time. Our dances together, our banter all seemed to lead up to what should have ended with us singing Time to Say Goodbye. But it didn’t. Liam was whisked away by his friends, for we did not know our time together would be over so abruptly, and Correy all but shoved me out the door. 

So sitting in the black leather limousine, in my ball gown for the opera house and holding in my hand a rose that Liam gave me, I reflect on all these things. I do not know what lies ahead, but some foreboding tells me it will be no fairytale. I sniff the rose as a tear rolls down my cheek. There’s something I didn’t tell Liam. Something that would have probably changed his course of action considerably if he knew. But the limo stops, and the door beside me opens. Correy takes my hand and pulls me out, turning my body to face the woods on the edge of the empty lot we stand on. I hear the click of a gun behind me. Silently I remind myself that turning my father in would save many lives. I remind myself that surely Liam could understand. "Say goodbye, Miss Lawson,” comes Correy’s voice silky and smooth from behind me. My decision has saved many lives.

I tighten my grip around the rose, the thorns piercing my skin and releasing drops of blood, and use my last moments to think of Liam. “Goodbye,” I whisper.