Brief Fourteen

The Big Goodbye

I stood in the doorway with my suitcases. One in each hand. Quite pathetic. My gym bag would have sufficed. But it's me, with a flare for the dramatic. I was leaving. All throughout my life, I'm always leaving. It's all I know how to do ... and I do it well. Just as I get tight and cozy in a place, deep down in the wicked chasm of my subconcsiousness, there I am, leaving. Will I ever stop leaving? The decision is not mine to make. One day, maybe, when I least expect it, I'll stay.

But there I was, in the doorway, with my suitcases. Leaving. A place I had found by chance, a place that had become my oasis all these years, a place I loved. A place I dreaded originally, until I met her there. My Fiona. She had chosen me, she had welcomed me, no questions asked. And this is how I was thanking her now. By leaving. By leaving them all.

They had been good to me. I had tried to be good to them. I believe I was. And as I stood in the doorway, the one thought dominating my troubled mind was, the decision was not mine to make. Never is. Never. It was better that Fiona had her back to me. I would have wanted nothing else. Too busy, or pretending to be too busy, to see the door slam shut behind me. For good this time. Yes, she had begged me not to go. She had told me how much she needed me and how much she would miss me. But she had never told me more. And I needed more. I needed much more than that to stop me from leaving. That urge is a great driving force in my life. Did she not know that by then?

Of course there was Marc. The man tried to be good to me. I do believe he really did. But it was not in his nature. I do blieve he tried with Fiona, tried his best poor man, but the nature of the beast is ... well, beasty. And it didn't help the influence the Others had on him either. I despised the Others for one, but I tried to be decent with Marc, for Fiona's sake of course. The only good thing about leaving was leaving Marc. And the Others. I hated how they drained the life right out of Fiona, slowly, drop by drop. And I couldn't stand to watch. I couldn't stay and watch. In the end, as is always the case, they got what they deserve I hear.

And then there was Sly. Sly was good to Fiona. Sly was good for Fiona. I left Fiona to Sly. How do I sleep at night? Easy. I tell myself I left Fiona ... to Sly. Sly, my good buddy, he takes care of my Fiona for me now. Did Sly make it easier for me to leave? Would I have still left if there was no Sly? The decision was not mine to make. How many times do I have to tell myslef that? What's most important is, Fiona is happy now.

Leaving. Never mine decision to make but always the right one as it turns out. For the people that I leave, for the new ones that I meet. And for me.