Making Amends for the Truth

by LQ Aredhel

“I don’t want you to be sad that I’m leaving,” she said, honestly and openly. Her eyes were as kind and soft as they’d always been, taking in my flaws and shames and forgiving them, even if I didn’t need her forgiveness. I smiled down at her because I loved her.

“No,” I replied, taking each of her hands in mine. Couples walked past down the sidewalk brightly lit by streetlamps, most emerging from the nearby theatre. A production must have just finished. I ignored the people and took a deep breath. “I can’t wait for you to leave. So that I can forget you.”

It was the most honest thing I’d ever said in my life, and I could see the hurt rimming her eyes. She was confused. Maybe it wasn’t clear to her what the situation was. She was leaving me to go west, to live with her uncle, and to fulfill her dreams working the first piece of land that had ever belonged to her. It meant everything to her and it didn’t matter that she hadn’t ever invited me along on her journey; I wouldn’t have gone. Maybe she knew that. And maybe she simply didn’t see me tending cows and horses alongside her.

“Why would you say something like that?” she demanded, pulling her hands away from mine.

I could have said a thousand things: I could have taken back the harsh words and comforted her until she didn’t even remember me saying it. Instead, I chose again to be honest.

“Because it’s true. And it’s easier that way.” I moved closer and took up her hands again. She didn’t resist. “Let’s be honest, this never would have worked out anyway, right? Not with you in Wisconsin. And me here in New York.”

“But I want it to work!” she cried, such innocent demand in her eyes, as though what she wished would simply be so.

And here I was, crushing this image she’d held on to for so long. That we would just drift apart. That there would be no need to say goodbye before the end.

This time I smiled because she was so silly. “It can’t,” I simply said. Maintaining the fairy tale would have been foolish, right? But she looked so hurt.

I pulled her closer, bent down and kissed her once on the lips. “I love you,” I said. And I really meant it.

She looked up at me with hurt and anger in her eyes. “I’m glad you can so easily forget about the people you love.” I watched as she pulled back her hands and walked away from me, no doubt deciding to wait patiently until I followed her and apologized, making amends for all the truths I’d finally set out on our relationship. But I didn’t.