Saying Goodbye

“In the Still of the Night”

Listen to this story, “Saying Goodbye”

It was only in the still of the night, with the August wind moaning outside and the yellow moon peering through her window, that Julie felt really lonely, a sick loneliness. She thought of all that Allen had meant to her and everything they had planned together. There were the bicycle rides they were going to take in the country after Allen fixed her bike, the picnics in the park, the Riverdale County Fair—there was so much left undone. Why? Why did it have to happen to her? It happened in the movies, but this was real life. Maybe that in itself was why.

Julie remembered the night he had first whispered, “I love you, Julie.” It was so simple, yet it meant so much. Marriage? No. That was too far away. Neither Allen nor Julie had even dared to think so far into the future. But then, Julie could see no future without Allen. Often she had imagined what life might be like without him. She just couldn’t see it. But now she was finding out.

Julie tossed at night. Surely she must be dreaming. Surely she hadn’t really broken up with Allen, dear Allen. Surely they were still so very much in love. But no. It was really for real. But wouldn’t Allen miss her being around as much as she would miss him? Wouldn’t he feel this loneliness, too? Would he date her again or leave her completely alone? Would he find another girl soon or wait a long while? Would he be the same ol’ Allen? All was uncertain; only time could tell.

Time—yes, time. That was the test of true love. Hadn’t Allen gone out with Jonelle? But was that a sign he didn’t love Julie? She didn’t know.

Suddenly she sat up. “I’m almost fifteen,” she blurted aloud, “and a girl, in every sense of the word.” Does every teenage girl experience what I have with her first love? Is every girl as sensitive and does she get a bruised heart as easily as I have? Is every girl such a fool at some time in her lifetime? What is life? My life centered on Allen. But now he’s gone. But does my life cease to exist? She tensed. No. Face it, little miss, you’ll be brokenhearted for a while, maybe quite a long while. Who can say? But you cannot hold on to Allen, even in your fondest memories, even though he’ll probably be the boy of your dreams—until the next one comes along!

Julie laughed at herself for philosophizing so much. Yet, a chilling sensation came over her entire body, and a few hot tears spilled onto her pillow. Through misty eyes, she saw Allen’s picture in its frame on her dresser. Now she reached beneath her bed and pulled out a pretty heart-shaped candy box. Inside were all of Allen’s letters and notes, a dry faded orchid, and several programs—everything she had shared with Allen. Now his picture also must go into that box.

Turning over the image of a face so dear, she saw the familiar writing. “To the girl I’ll always remember…” it began. Quickly she grabbed a tissue.

“Life is like a game, Julie,” she remembered someone had told her once. “Somebody’s going to be hurt, anyway.”

Julie bit her lip. “Yes,” she repeated, “somebody’s hurt—anyway. Life is a game. It isn’t who wins but how you play the game.” Julie smiled again, and this time, it was genuine.

She sighed, gave one last long look at the picture before her, and then caressed it softly.

“Goodbye, dear Allen,” she whispered. “Goodbye.” And Julie put Allen’s picture in the box and closed the lid.

< At Allen’s House | Epilogue: Fifty-nine Years Later >