Take Me With You
They were in that stage of a breakup where they still did things together, even though the end of the road was in sight.
A dead end.
He decided to take a much-needed one-day get away to Lake Michigan, hoping to clear his head in the crisp, autumn air.
The threat of rain did not deter him. In fact, it was fitting in a poetic sort of way. Every other time they had come here had been bright sunny.
The night before his trip, he went to bed in the guest room, as he done for the past couple of months. Once again, his snores did him in.
When his alarm went off the next morning, he noticed a note on his bedside table with one sentence:
Take me with you.
As much as he needed to take this trip alone, he couldn’t possibly say no. He didn’t want to break her heart any more than he already had. He would have plenty of time to take a solo trip.
This trip would be their eulogy. An epilogue at the end of bittersweet love story.
As he stared at the note, he imagined her standing in the door way as he slept, hoping he would wake up, before leaving the note, then retreating to the bed that they once shared.
How many nights did he pretend to be asleep, knowing that she stood there, seeking reconciliation and comfort?
When there was a still a chance to make things right.
Like that time she put her hand on his back when it was turned from her.
And he pretended to keep sleeping, trying to restore their shared promise of forever. A promise that no not quite dead, was still on life support.
Did she know he was awake?
How many times did he ignore her presence? Would things have turned out any differently if he didn’t? He didn’t initially ignore her. Usually, it would lead to regrettable sex. Not because it wasn’t good, but rather the act itself only delayed the inevitable, giving false hope.? Deep down, he knew it was too late. So why prolong the inevitable?
He had already hurt her enough. It was bad enough they were both stuck co-habitating for a few more weeks until he could move into his new place.
He still couldn’t help but wonder to himself: what if it wouldn’t have been false hope? What if they somehow could have fixed things? He was still living there, at all.
Of course, he was still living there because his new place wouldn’t be available for a couple more weeks. At which point, her new roommate moved in.
It seemed just like yesterday that they were moving in here.
Their fresh start they both so needed.
A place to call their own.
When the embraced in the kitchen the day they took possession of the placed. He cried. Because for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was home again.
Now, they were nothing more than roommates. And no longer soul mates. Going through the motions until he could finally move out.
He reminded himself that they never officially broke up. But what else could this possibly be? He used to think that a break-up was both sudden and finite. He knew better now.
He reminded himself that they technically never officially broke up. Neither could pinpoint the exact moment it was truly over. Yet, they both knew. What else could it be?
Their denial ensured a long, prolonged death.
Take me with you.
Day trips and weekend getaways were a significant part of their relationship. Neither had enjoyed traveling with someone else as much as they did with one another.
But right now, what he needed more than anything was to travel solo – to the town they used to dream about owning a summer cottage together someday.
Take me with you.
They would make one lasting memory.
Following months of unhappy ones.
They would make this memory one that they could hold on to that existed outside of the context their sad timeline.
A bittersweet coda, with no turning back. Because they were too stubborn to try.
Despite the miserable weather, they would make the most out of it.
Just like they used to do. When being together was all that mattered.
When they dreamed of one day owning a summer cottage on Lake Michigan.
As they drove, they listened to their “infinite playlist”, which had been finite for quite some time now. Neither one remembered when the last time a song was added, let alone what song it was.
This would be the last time either one of them would listen to it.
But neither one of them would delete it, either.
Take me with you.
When they arrived, they headed straight to mostly empty beach – especially in comparison with the packed beaches they were used to.
They stared out at the open water enveloped in a foreboding fog, mixed with a misty drizzle, and a whirling, whipping wind.
The lack of sun gave the illusion of a world of black and white like one of old French films they used to fall asleep to together.
Even the red lighthouse jutting out in the distance was bleached out like a ghostly figure shrouded in fog, as violent waves splashed against it.
Though neither did anything about it, they both secretly longed to hold one another,
as both shelter from the cold, and a last chance to salvage themselves, before they faded forever into the mist.
Take me with you.
Sometimes, things are too late, even when you don’t want it to be.
At least they would have one last memory to keep in their pocket.
A welcome respite from arguing and the resulting lingering sadness.
A memory as sweet and beautiful as their first, but steeped in melancholy.
One last memory to keep in their pocket.
Like the final note she left for him:
Take me with you.
He moved out as planned a few weeks later.
They stayed in touch, here and there, but over time, even that ended.
In truth, it was too painful.
They eventually moved on as best they could.
But the ghost of their life would stay with them.
He held on to her note for the rest of his days.
A promise fulfilled.
Just not in the way they had promised once upon a time.
As these things so often go.
