combustion

◄◄ twelve

        I've never liked airports. They always meant that someone was leaving. On that particular day, I was the one leaving. Never would I have thought that I would miss this country, but would I really? Or would I miss Lily?

        She stood by the check-in lanes, the furthest that anyone who wasn't travelling could go. We should have known, really, about the baby - the way she clutched her stomach sometimes, the constant migraines and strange behaviour that were a mystery to her at the time. I didn't even know until I received the phone call from John. I didn't find about our baby until she had died giving birth to it.

        But at that time, all we had between us was hurt. Love was an arrowhead, designed to wound and rip flesh apart when removed.

        "This is it, then," Lily said. "You're really leaving."

        "Please don't," was all I could manage before I had to bite my lip to stop the tears coming out.

        "What's going to happen to us?" she murmured. "Are we going to just disappear from each other's lives? Am I never going to see you again?"

        "I don't know, Lily."

        "That's not good enough-"

        "I never would've been good enough for you."

        She looked at me, and I knew she understood what I meant. "You know that's not true. My mother and I are different people, Keaton." She turned away as I felt a hand on my shoulder.

        "Keaton, we need to go. We're going to be late," my mother said with a sorry expression. I opened my mouth to argue, but I'd already spent the past month screaming angry words at them. I was tired of it. Shouting wasn't going to cancel that flight, or burn those plane tickets. It wasn't going to unpack all our bags or return our sold apartment to us. It wasn't going to change anything.

        "Can I just have a minute?" I asked. "Please, Mum." She glanced at my father, both harbouring worry in their eyes, and she nodded.

        "We'll be waiting for you by the scanners, alright?" And then Lily and I were alone.

        "It's really been two years, huh?" I chuckled, but she did not laugh with me.

        "You have no idea how many times I wish I'd never met you after you told me that you were moving back to England," Lily said, not looking at me.

        "Me too," I murmured. "God, Lily, I just wish I could just..."

        She nodded, nervously twisting the ends of her hair before taking my hands. "Two years is a long time to spend with someone who's only going to leave you behind. But I-"

        She swallowed. "I don't know how everything would have turned out if it wasn't for you, Keaton. So thank you. Thank you for two years that I'll never forget."

        "No, Lily," I replied. "You were the one who made it all worthwhile. I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't been put next to you on that first day, or if you'd never dragged me to that cake shop."

        Tears toppled from her eyes and she flew into my arms. It felt like home, her embrace, and I was leaving it behind.

        "Don't you dare forget me," she whispered, trembling as she tried to contain herself. Seeing her tensing her jaw, I knew she was trying not to cry. I ran my fingers through her hair for what I knew would be the last time for years - maybe ever - and whispered sweet nothings into her ears until her tears retreated. I spent those last moments with Lily trying to memorise everything; her eyes, her hair, her scent, her hands... We were going to be ripped apart, and a mere photograph could never preserve a whole person in the way that I needed it to.

        "Lily," I breathed, pressing my lips against hers and tasting the tangy salt of her tears. She kissed me again and again and again, fingers exploring my face like she wasn't sure I was real anymore.

        Her last words to me came out a rasp. "Good bye, you stupid British boy."

        "Good bye, Lily." And as she pulled away out of my arms, I felt an empty space filling my heart. But I walked away and forced myself to look only forward. The hole only kept growing.

It's funny how the world works. I left her first, then she left me also, except for her, it wasn't a matter of time zones and country borders.

        I only got to say goodbye to her once, didn't I?

        Yes, there had been no farewell the second time round.