The Romantic and the Realist

Oliver and I were lying under the stars at our favorite beach, like so many nights before, only this was the last time I would ever see him.

"Promise me you'll write," I pleaded, my voice starting to break.

"I'll try." He was moving with his family to a rural area where it would be a long walk to a place where he could mail a letter. It hurt to think I wouldn't be able to keep in touch with him.

"I wish you could stay," I said, tears forming in my eyes.

"I know." He couldn't stay though, because we were both only eleven.

Tears started to make their way down my cheeks, and Oliver tightened his fingers around mine. "Don't cry, Junie. I'll come back for you, I swear."

When the flow of tears did not cease, he leaned in closer to me and put his lips to mine. We stayed like that for several seconds, and when I looked into his eyes again, I was sure.

He would come back for me.

I recalled these memories of my first kiss as I checked the mail, as I had every day since Oliver left. Another eleven years of my life had passed since then, but it seemed almost like it was just yesterday.

No mail. I closed the mailbox softly and sulked back inside. I never received a single letter from him. I often feared he'd forgotten me, but his promise rang in my ears and drowned out my fears. He said he'd come back, and somehow, I knew he would.

"Nothing?" my sister Rowena asked when I walked inside. She sounded like she expected as much.

I shook my head and sat down at the counter while she was hurriedly cleaning up the remnants of our breakfast.

"I don't understand you, Junie," she said, scrubbing away at a stubborn bit of omelet that was stuck to the stove. "You haven't heard from him in more than a decade. Why can't you let go?"

I sighed. People always asked me the same thing, and I always gave the same answer, but they couldn't understand. None of them could ever understand.

"I mean," she continued, "you're twenty-two, for Christ's sake! And you're still living here with your parents, waiting for that stupid letter. You have to move on."

"Oliver was my best friend," I whispered. Rowena couldn't hear me over the running water. "I just want my best friend back."

Without another word, I ran out the front door. "Where are you going?" I heard Rowena shouting after me. "Junie, wait!" I thought, maybe she's right, but I never turned back.

I found myself on the side of a busy highway, endlessly wiping tears away from my eyes so I could see where I was going. The funny thing about that was, though, that I didn't know where I was going. Even so, I continued walking on, in hopes that I would eventually find out.

And I did.

A truck on the highway started to slow and pulled up beside me. The driver rolled down the passenger window and leaned out of it. "Need a lift?"

I swallowed my sadness and shook my head. "I'm fine, thank you."

"You don't look like it," he persisted. "It's getting cold out there. You'd better get in and warm up. I'll take you home. Come on."

"No, I really don't want your help."

"Please," he said, looking desperately at me, as if he was the one that needed me, not the other way around. I could see in his expression that he was only trying to be a friend.

"Fine," I said softly, and he smiled. He pushed the door open for me and moved so I could get in. We then joined the rest of the traffic on the highway.

"So... where are you headed?" he asked me a few moments later.

"It doesn't matter," was my answer.

"Yes, it does, or I can't take you there."

"Wherever you're going is fine," I insisted, and that conversation ended there.

But only for about ten seconds.

"Who are you running from?"

I turned to face him. He looked back at the road.

"I mean, crazy ex-boyfriend?" he joked. "Police? Oh God, did you kill someone? Am I, like, an accessory to—"

"No," I cut him off, though I could tell he wasn't serious. "No, I didn't kill anyone. I'm not in any trouble. I'm not running from anyone." I noticed him leaning back into his seat. "More accurately, I'm running to someone."

"But I thought you said you didn't know where you wanted to go."

"I don't," I confirmed. "I have to find him."

"And... you don't even have a hint as to where he might be?"

"Not really." Oliver had tried to tell he where he was moving, but he couldn't pronounce the name. "He just left, and I never found out where he went. But... he promised me that he would come back for me. And I never forgot. I've spent every day for the past eleven years wondering when I'd see him again, and all I know for certain is that I will."

The driver had gotten so fascinated with what I had to say that he pulled over on the side of the highway. "What was his name?"

"Oliver," I answered, and I understood then why he had taken such an interest in my story. "Oliver?"

"Junie?" He wrapped his arms around me and held me.

"I can't believe I've found you," I whispered into his ear.

"After all this time..." he whispered. Suddenly, he broke our embrace. He looked at me strangely, like I had done something wrong, and pulled the truck back into the busy traffic.

"What—?" I was flabbergasted.

"I have to bring you home now." He sounded cold and monotonous. "Where do you live?"

I ignored his question. "What? Didn't you hear me? I've waited eleven years for you. I've spent eleven years doing nothing but counting on you to keep your promise." My voice lost all its strength. "I love you, Oliver. You're all I've got. You're all I ever had. You can't leave me. You just can't."

He shook his head. "You don't understand."

"I don't understand what?"

He didn't respond; he just kept shaking his head.

"What don't I understand, Oliver?" I pressed.

"Things have... changed."

"How? What's changed?"

"Junie, do you honestly mean to tell me that absolutely nothing has changed in your life in the time we were apart?"

"Well... not really, no," I said. "But what does it even matter? We're still the same people, aren't we? We're still friends."

"Of course we are, but... Junie, there's no way we can be together."

"Why not?"

Oliver sighed deeply. "I was a wreck when I left you. I longed to see your face again. I spent entire days sleeping so that you might appear to me in a dream. Seven years of my life I spent wishing in vain that I could kiss you just once more."

"Seven years," I repeated, and he nodded.

"When I was eighteen," he continued, "I met someone. I had forgotten the meaning of happiness until I met her. I fell in love with her, and we got married. We have two daughters."

"I... you..." My mind was racing, and I struggled to finish a thought. "You never intended to keep your promise to me," I realized, as I said it aloud, and he didn't argue. "I would have waited forever for you."

"Come on, Junie, I'm sure you would have moved on eventually. You wouldn't have waited forever."

"Yes, I would have. I would have waited for you until the very day I died, and my last thoughts would have been, 'Even though Oliver never came back, I love and forgive him because I know he tried his hardest to keep his promise.' But I would have been wrong. If not for today, I never would have known that my entire life was a lie. So thank you."

I pushed open the car door and watched the pavement soar past beneath me. "Junie, what are you doing?!" He slammed on the brakes and the truck stopped in the middle of the lane.

I got out, and all I said was, "Goodbye, Oliver," before setting off to put an end to the lie.

I was done with Oliver forever, but he was burned into my retinas, imprinted in my thoughts, and engraved upon my heart. I could still feel his lips on mine. My first kiss.

And my last.

I wanted only to forget. I wanted desperately to forget about Oliver and start over. But I wouldn't be able to do that. Sure, I knew how to forget, but there was no starting over.

This was the end.

"Goodbye, Oliver," she said, and she ran off. I thought I knew where she might go, but I didn't follow her. I knew it was too late for her. It was better this way.

When I returned home, my wife greeted me with a kiss, but I couldn't bring myself to kiss her back. "Are you all right, Oliver?"

I smiled. "I'm fine, Hilary. Sorry I'm late. I stopped to talk with an old friend."

"No problem," she said. "The girls have been angels. It's getting late though; you can tuck them in tonight if you want. I'm kind of busy."

"Thank you," I said, making my way to the room my daughters shared. I hardly got to spend any time with them because I was on the road so much. I gently pushed open the door to find my daughters already asleep on their bunk bed. I sighed and walked quietly into the room.

I bent over my younger daughter on the top bunk and gently touched her cheek. "Goodnight, Sarah," I whispered. Then I knelt before my older daughter on the lower bunk. I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her on the forehead.

"Goodnight, Junie."