This is a goodbye.
Goodbye to you, to me and to us-that-was-never-us.
Goodbye to a friend. Goodbye to an innocence, goodbye.
To be close, never to say hello - only goodbye.
Goodbye to forever.
This is how you do a goodbye.
Allison Cameron forgot she hated 're full of people waiting, holding coffee cups, rifling through newspapers and yawning way too loud. It seems...fake; the hugs and the "I'll miss yous". It's all contrived, pre-mediated, thought of. Expected.
She wishes she were one of them.
Standing in a red coat and clutching a worn-out suitcase, she wished she had something to say to him. This is not a goodbye but a see you later (she reminds herself once before bed, twice in the morning and thrice at noon). Say it. Go on. Say it. Say what? Write to me? It was fun? See you soon? Anything - something. She thinks he needs an "I'll miss you" but she can't. She can't. "I'll miss you" is a goodbye and keep in mind, this is not a goodbye.
Truth?
She knows what she wants to tell him and knows this won't (can't!) be the last time. Goodbyes are intimate, tearful and not in a room of people who are collecting their lost luggages. She clutches her suitcase tighter, the handles making pretty red marks on her palms. She will not admit defeat. She will fight. Fight for this – fight for what she can get. Their relationship was (sorry, is) easy. Contrived, pre-mediated, thought of. Expected - from the start. It was so easy to fall into a pattern and so easy to draw boxes in neat tidy rows. (Cameron: Tuesday, yet?).
She lied, you know – she could fall in love with him.
She could.
She is tired.
She is just tired.
Tired of not knowing and knowing, tired of the what ifs, whys and the whos. She is becoming a trite version of herself. It's time for a change. It's time to realise she cannot wait for the sandy steps of yesterdays or tomorrows: today is a reality.
She knows what this means for both of them – she (they!) is going to go back to Princeton (to the other). This is a test in a life full of failed tests and failed cures. She will pass (not going to fail, not going to fail, not going to fail, even if she has to cheat). There is a tomorrow; they are not stuck. There is a something and it's not a could be.
She thinks back to her (his!) start in Arizona. They are happy (he likes her blond hair). They have fights (Chase: Do you always to have wine with your pasta?) and later, she finds out about his Gin and Tonic mother. (Chase: I was the one who found her - I was only 13).
He attended six private schools, joined the seminary at nineteen, lost his virginity to a girl twice his size at 15, survived a fire at 18 and at 8 his father usually came home after 11 pm (if he came home at all). He told her about his father who was addicted to work, golf, theatre, rugby – everything except his family. She didn't realise but then again she likes them damaged. There was a time she like them to do the right thing too, but this was before predicted yesterdays and nostalgic tomorrows.
He took her to Australia; she didn't realise how much he loved the outdoors. He loves cricket, he gets a childish glee from it. She didn't meet his family (too soon, too fast, too weary ). He met her brother (accidentally) one night over the phone, a simple hello, hang on I'll get her for you and it was too much, too soon. He didn't ask her anything and made her breakfast next morning. He drowned the pancakes in syrup.
He bites his nails when he waits. And he'll wait until her bedsheets are covered with his chewed- on fingernails. He sings (off-tune) in the shower and he hogs the covers. He tried cooking Tortellini for her but most of it ended up on his clothes or herapartment's ceiling - she laughed. They have a normal relationship.
Normal. She forgot what it was.
She doesn't even know if she knew what that is (if she ever knew what that is).
She struggles with the coffee he bought her, her mouth is too dry and she knew she has packed too many things. She sighs, airports were not built for , boarding pass, wallet, credit card, cellphone, journal article (she pretends she does not notice the Gregory House printed under the title) – everything, she has everything. A droned voice calls out the final call. He smiles and takes her suitcase.
She could fall in love with him.
So, she settles for kiss on the cheek and I will see you in New Jersey.