The Farewell

It was the perfect setting for the first of many farewells, scripted from the book of truths itself. The heated glare from the relentless sun was soothed by welcoming gusts of wind. The sky was an expanse of dreams and possibilities, beaming a unique shade of blue. We stood on the side of a road on the outskirts of town, where the trees rose high above our heads and created a protective green canopy over our heads, and the grass was a soft bed for our aching feet. It was the perfect haven for starting a new life.

The girl standing in front of me had my face and my eyes, but she was dressed differently. She wore a brand-new cotton dress and a leather suitcase, and her hair was perfectly patted under her hat. It made me wonder how she still managed to look to stubborn and composed at the site of her banishment. 

“Goodbye,” she started uncertainly, speaking like the words had been put into her mouth by someone else. 

“Goodbye indeed.”

The rest should have been simple, but she was petulant and demanding. Her hands tightened on the glossy new handle of her suitcase. 

“So this is it?” she asked, searching for some leftover nostalgia. With her back to the road and her feet stubbornly planted in the dirt, I knew she wouldn’t budge without her answer. 

So I went about mine. “I suppose it is.”

My reply shot through her coldly and--despite this warm summer’s day--she shivered. I saw her eyes change and composure return, and the fight reignite. In her eyes, underneath the reflection of myself and the leaves, I saw defiance and something all too familiar: dread. “Do you remember that time down by the river behind the house,” she smiled, though it was too stiff, “It was on a day just like this.”

I looked towards the leaves that acted as green film, coloring the entire expanse with vibrant dewy color. The day at the river was just like that; filtering out the harsh truth into a beautiful lie. “I suppose it was,” I curtly replied, accompanied with the same smile. Her face dropped, knowing a losing battle when she saw one. 

She took a step closer, and this time I also saw the cunningness reflected in the dark pools of her eyes. “You can’t kick me out. You need me,” she challenged in her vain attempts to poison me with dangerous words disguised with dripping honey. 

I observed her in silence for a minute, and every second I saw the cockiness return in her stance. 

I imagined her from out of my sight, becoming nothing more than the dusty remains of a memory. “I don’t need you. I will be better off on my own” I replied calmly. To her bright glare, I was to be the cool breeze. 

She scoffed at my words. “I made you who you are,” she sneered.

I smiled sadly at the cold truth. She worked me from the tops of her palms, building an image of me from the bottom to the top. Someone cold, cruel, and pathetic. Someone who sang hymns and praises of her work. Someone who never realized their self-worth and identity was dying because of it. “You aren’t wrong,” I admitted, and then let out a small sigh, “But that is in the past. I am trying to find myself again, and the first step in doing that is kicking you out.”

I looked up at her and mimicked her defiance in my eyes, taking the last bit I need from her to win. “Because of you, I lost my kind-heart and my confidence. I became lost and I thought you were the answer. I was foolish and confused, but I have learned from my mistake.”

She stayed silent, lost for words. She had never been confronted like that before, it must have been shocking. 

“You have been wrong about many things,” I continued, “But there was one thing you were right about. The day at the river.”

Her eyes shot up to stare into mine curiously. 

“It was quite different for us both, though,” I smiled, “For you, it was the day you had finally taken what you wanted from me: my life. I fell to your every whim and did whatever you told me to. Like pushing that small poor boy into the river, when he couldn’t swim, just so you could crown yourself.”

“He was nothing,” she scoffed, annoyed.

“He nearly died!” I shouted, the memories and her reaction stirring emotions in me once again, but I calmed myself with deep breaths. “When you weren’t looking, I went to go visit him in the hospital. He was so small and broken, and when he opened his eyes I thought he was going to scream. I felt like I deserved it and I wanted to cry, but he did something extraordinary.” I closed my eyes, reimaging the feeling. “He forgave me.”

She scoffed, unimpressed, but I didn’t expect her to understand. 

“He helped me understand what it was like to be free from your demons, and the feeling of happiness that you get from forgiving yourself. It was because of him that I decided to free myself from your clutches.” Although she didn’t understand the full extent of it, she had gotten my meaning and I knew that it was time for the conversation to end. 

On that perfect day, I blessed her with sincere words. “I forgive you, and I wish that you find your real destination someday,” I paused to let her bask in those words, “But I hope that you never return.”

That was the striking blow. The girl who stood in front of me had gotten the answer she so desperately fought for, and now it was time for her to go. She turned on her heels and walked out from under the canopy, and I amusedly noted that the button on the back of her dress had been incorrectly done in a rush. I watched as she disappeared into the horizon before collapsing exhausted onto the soft grass and breathing in the long-awaited air of freedom.