Last Night
Editor’s Note: In honor of Valentine’s Day, I’m posting one story each day for a week of a time in my life I felt particularly loved. Names have been changed or left out entirely, although I’m sure a few of you will recognize the stories. Maybe they are even about you. Happy Valentine’s Day! Day 1
It was the last night we would have together. The next day he was off to college, while I stayed behind, one year left of high school to finish. Out loud, it was the last night we’d spend together for a while, but in our heads I think we both knew it would be our last night for ever. And it was.
We had the textbook definition of “summer love.” Meet in May, date in June, and now it was the end of August. The season would end the next day when he packed up his Grand Prix and drove his life three hours north.
But that night, he drove me out to the fairgrounds. I wasn’t sure why, but it was a quiet, out-of-the-way spot in our quiet, out-of-the-way town. It was a clear night, and when he turned off the car we got out and laid on his hood, looking at the stars.
Silence for a bit, but it didn’t take long for us to start talking about what was about to happen. Or for me to start crying. We told each other all of the right things. He told me he’d miss me, and I told him I wanted him to have fun, meet new people, put college first. I remember saying that a lot, telling him I could be a priority but not the top. Later I’d regret it, but it was what he needed to hear. All in all, it was entirely predictable.
Until he leaned back on the hood, and I realized for the first time he was crying too. He tried to hide it at first, craning his head back and out of sight, but I could tell. It was the first time in my life I’d ever seen a guy cry in front of me, much because of me. I was momentarily stunned, before crawling into his arms and burying my face in his chest.
We cried together until the front of his shirt and the back of my hair were wet, until a police man drove by, wondering what we were doing alone on public property so late at night. He realized quickly we weren’t up to any trouble, but not quickly enough to interrupt our tears and end our last moments together.
Soon after he drove off, we did too. He took me back to my car outside his house, and we said goodbye. No more tears, just promises that would break less than a month later. But driving awa, I believed him. I believed his tears. For a few moments that night, I believed our last night wasn’t.
