I love you, so goodbye.

I remembered you at the oddest time, today.
I was sitting behind the counter at work,
watching the children knock displays over
and parents try to pick them up
while struggling to placate their screaming infant
who had dropped its bottle
which spilled all over the carpet.

I remembered you when I first met you.
Your eyes so dark and full of anger that I didn't understand.
I loved you instantly.

And as I rang up a sale of
a fluffy dog,
silly fake teeth,
a whoopee cushion,
"The Gas We Pass,"
Find the Monkey,
and a beanie baby,
I remembered your voice.
The way you were never afraid to speak your mind.

Who would have thought we could fall in love?
We two people so completely different.
I, a sheltered California girl who had a thousand friends and a firm sense of right,
and You, a boy from Arkansas who had been exposed to the harsh reality of life at an early age and made bitter and mean because of it.
I made a face at a little boy
the red tissue paper crinkling in my hands
as I twisted it into bizarre shapes
with which I decorated his friend's present.

My friends hated you.
Your friends hated me.
It was okay.

And now,
I said to myself as I eased back onto the rickety wooden stool,
it is not okay anymore.
We stuck it out for a long time.
Years and years.
We promised each other we would get married.
Ha.

I followed the last of the customers to the door and locked it behind them,
shutting the cold night out.
It reminded me of your arms.
Coldness reaching for me,
fingers tugging at my wrist.
I flicked the lights off and pulled my coat on.
I love you,
So goodbye.