The street was dark underneath the night sky. The houses shined brightly, a colorful glow from some, a soft white blanket of light from others. At the end of the street was darkness, with nothing illuminating the roadway but two dim streetlights on either side. The frosty asphalt was about to end, the last house coming up. The car began to slow.
He knew which one it was. The headlights shone across the cul-de-sac and reflected off of the bright white of the house. Every falling flake of snow was illuminated by the two yellow beams projecting from the car. There he sat, in the driver's seat of the old Nissan. The engine idled patiently; the heater ran quietly, toasting his cold hands as they gripped the steering wheel hard. He watched as the digital clock rolled 12:00 – midnight.
He reached for the key and turned off the ignition. The car shuddered as the engine stopped – the heater cut, and the cold gradually began to envelop him once again. He breathed in deep, sighed heavily, and stared amused, as his breath condensed in front of him into a puffy grey cloud. The handle clicked, the door nudged open. A gust of cold winter air blew into the car. He shivered as he stepped out onto the snow-covered roadway and straightened up his posture. With one hand on the top of the window, and the other resting on the roof, he paused. He listened to the snow falling, the clouds moving; the silence was deafening.
It was eerie, but peaceful. Patiently, he zipped up his black leather jacket and pushed the door shut. The headlights were off, no longer shedding light on the black Mercedes in the driveway. He watched the bay window where a soft yellow glow shone through the thick white curtains. His hands slid into his jacket pockets. In his left, he grasped his cell phone, trying to regain feeling in his frost-bitten hand. His right fiddled with a small, folded piece of paper. Without looking at it, he remembered; he quickly drew it out and nervously unfolded it. But he couldn't spare more than a brief moment to view its contents. He pushed it back into his pocket, pulled the door open again, and leaned over to grab the box on the passenger seat.
The snow was falling more as he approached the steps. A thinner layer of fresh snow had already begun to form, soon to become a thick mound of fluff. Carefully ascending, he stared at the big red bow on the box, the green ribbon, and the gold wrapping paper. He thought maybe it wasn't a very attractive choice of colors. But that didn't matter as he knelt down on one knee and gently placed the present on the doormat. He fiddled with the bow just as a shadow moved over him.
In the bay window, behind the white patterned curtains, the soft yellow glow was interrupted by the shadow of her figure, moving in the living room in front of the tree. He couldn't help but stare until a tear shed from his eye and landed on the bow. His eyes closed. Back into his pocket his hand went, retrieving the folded piece of paper. One last time, he opened it up and gazed at the picture. She looked so beautiful, her smile wide and bright, her shimmering eyes bare of makeup, her hair curled and down on her shoulders – she never looked prettier. They lay upon the hood of the old red Nissan, waiting for the camera to click. They looked so perfect, her arms clenched around his waist, his hands down on her hips. It was right before…
But he shook his head. Back into a clean fold the photo went, and he slid it neatly under the bow. Standing up, he dusted the powdered snow off of his sleeves. "Goodbye," he whispered, "I hope he takes good care of you." He headed back for the car.
With the turn of a key, the heater was blowing again. He reached over to the glove compartment and pulled a map out from underneath the pictures, love letters and old movie tickets. But before he laid it out over the steering wheel, he paused. He turned around and looked at his few belongings in the back, running a list of things through his mind. Check. He hadn't forgotten anything, but there wasn't much to forget. Or was there?
With a long sigh, he threw the map on the passenger seat and stared at it – she used to sit there. He put the car in drive, eased on the gas, and swung the car around. He slowed to a stop and watched the mirror as the front door opened and a beautiful young lady stepped out. She pulled out the photo and set it aside, removed the lid on the present, and opened up the small photo album inside. Pictures – their first date, road trips, lying on the beach watching the sunset, walking underneath the stars at the park. She remembered each and every single one, and relived the moments depicted within them. Reaching down and unfolding the note, she read:
I'm sorry for any hurt or troubles I've ever caused you. I hope you forgive me. I'm sorry if I made things so hard for you – I promise, I'll let you be now. Follow your heart, follow what you believe is best for you. Sorry if the ring doesn't fit, it was from a while ago. But I guess it's no matter now, anyways. I'm sorry for pushing you away sometimes. It's a problem I've been trying to deal with for some time, but I guess it couldn't soon enough, and you were just getting tired. I know now what I've done wrong, I know now that I can change – but if that's not what you want, so be it. I promised I'd always fight for you, but this was your decision. I will honor it.
I hope that wherever life takes you, it treats you well, and shows you its true beauty. There's always something out there for everyone. I thought you were the one; but you just didn't feel the same.
I'll always love you, you will always have my heart – and you'll forever be the only one to hold it. But I see now that I don't hold yours any longer.
Take care of yourself.
She glanced back down at the present, and the small white box that she overlooked, sitting alone on the very bottom. No… She flipped over the note and stared at the photo. She remembered that day; it was the day of their first date. She remembered the car – she remembered their first kiss.
A tear fell onto the photo of them, blotting out his face, turning dried ink into a stream of lost colors and sadness. She looked up. Off in the distance, a pair of tail lights lit up, spilling their faint red glow onto the snow, now coming down hard. The familiar sound of the old Nissan engine roused and then faded as the car drove off into the night.
He took one last glance at the mirror as her figure began to shrink. She'd grown tired of his promises and wouldn't give him the chance he needed – just as he realized in his heart that he could finally change. She just didn't want to be the one to end it.
He didn't need a map. It was Christmas Day, there wouldn't be any traffic. He had nowhere to go – it was just his turn to leave.