A Proper Goodbye, Then

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It's August. The spring and summer passed incredibly fast, with my application to Emerson being accepted. We planned it out perfectly then. He'd be busy in Connecticut during the week, with his paintings and his iced lattes. I'd be in Boston, writing and trying to entertain others with my disastrous fucking sense of humor. And on the weekends, we'll meet... either at his dorm or mine. I still can't believe I even got accepted in the first place.

So I help him move the first weekend we can. The backseat of my car is filled with boxes, as well as the trunk. He's bringing a lot of stuff. He says goodbye to his mom before we start driving. He makes a playlist of a bunch of sappy 80s ballads. And he sings along to every single song that comes on. But I don't mind listening to his horrible singing. It makes me smile. He is the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen.

"You're not going to miss me too much during the week, are you?" I ask warily.

"I'll miss you every second of every single day, and more. I will call you whenever I get the chance, I'll call you. And then you can call me on the off chance I forget to call you!" He laughs and my heart flutters. Goddamnit. I guess the butterflies never do go away.

"I just don't want to be replaced by some hot guy who knows more than me," I point out. "What if Michael B. Jordan is your roommate? I can't compete with that!"

"But I don't love Michael B. Jordan," he mumbles. His cheeks are red and blushing. I lean over and kiss him, but he pushes me away. "Don't you dare get me in another car accident," he teases.

When we finally get to his dorm, it takes us two trips to get all his stuff into the room. The room is just two small beds. They are like bunk beds, but the bottom isn't another bed, but a desk, so both of the roommates can study in a smaller area of space. Honestly, it's pretty cool. There's also a dresser for each of them. I help him load his stuff into the dresser until every last sweatshirt and sock is tucked away. And then comes the uncomfortable moment. The moment where I have to say goodbye. I bite my lip and step closer to him.

"You're acting all dramatic, you know," he says with a bit of laughter. "I'm going to see you on Saturday. I can take a bus up to Boston."

I smile very faintly at that. "I'll see you in a week," I reply softly. And I pull him closer, and I kiss him. One last kiss for the unbearable drive.

And once again I find myself crying in the car. It's not raining, and it's not daylight. And I'm sure the people in the lanes beside me can see that I'm crying, but it doesn't stop me. I wonder what they think happened to me. Maybe they think someone died. But nope, I'm just a sap. I drive the painful two hours back to Boston. It takes me five trips to carry my things into my dorm since I don't have Eddie there to help me. I didn't get to choose my roommate, apparently it's some guy named Mike. I really hope he's nice. I couldn't stand being locked in a room with an asshole.

The room isn't as nice as the one Eddie gets to reside in. Just a dresser, a desk and a bed for each of the roommates. Pretty shit, but I can adjust.

When I finally unpack the last box, I find a letter. Stan wrote it. It's short, but sweet.

Richie, you asshole! You always said you'd never leave for college. Now I'm all alone with Bill. I'm going to miss you...give me a call. I'm glad you and Eddie are still okay.

I smile. It's nice knowing he cares about me, that's all.

I sit on my bed and take out my phone, calling Eddie. It's only been a few hours now but I need to speak to him. I miss him more than I would want to admit.

"Hello?" He says when he answers.

"Hey, sorry Eds, I already have a new boyfriend, we're engaged, and you've been replaced." I love to tease...

"You're really funny," he snaps back dryly. "But I have you beat. I have a husband now. No, a wife, because you smell so bad that I became straight. And she's pregnant. And we're naming the baby Richard because I know he's going to be a fucking disappointment."

He's good.

He definitely couldn't joke like that before I fixed him up. He totally has a lot to thank me for.

There's a weird silence as I think we both realise there's a serious discussion incoming. And neither of us want to initiate it. But we're thinking almost the same thing despite all this.

"Things are going to be different," he says softly. "But when I'm painting I'll think of the day we met and your stupid jokes that made me hate you."

I laugh. "And when I'm making love to the new boyfriend I have I'll think about how he's so much better than you."

Eddie knows I'm joking to deflect, so he doesn't even respond. He just sighs and with one more "I love you" the call is over. And I'm left in my room, in silence, feeling all sorts of empty. I made it this far. And I don't know what the future holds.

The door opens. It's a muscular kid, who's carrying two big bags. He smiles. "You must be Richie. I'm Mike. It's nice to meet you."

I frown. "I know who you are, I fucked your mother last night."

He squints but then laughs slightly. "That would've been funnier if my mom was alive, or if I wasn't busy banging your mom this morning!" He laughs again.

Fuck it.

Maybe things are fucked up but here's this guy who I might be able to tolerate. And let's face it, I have other people too. Of course there's Stan and Bill. And I am lucky to know Beverly and her boyfriend Ben. And here's my roommate, Mike, with the oversized bags and the great sense of humour.

If only any of them could compare to Eddie, the boy with the unbearably loud laughter, the boy with the rainbow shirts and the overalls, the boy who stole my heart.

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