March 11, 2012 § Leave a Comment
Icecreams actual departure date changed over and over again in the most agonizing of ways. There were two separate instances where I thought he left without saying goodbye, only to discover a day or so later that he was still in town. Two whole weeks are a blur. All I can remember is the dull buzz in my head. None of my friends offered me any information, and I would not press them. We all wore a slight look of shock for a while there. It was an awkward time.
The buzzing came to a stop at six pm on an especially cold evening. I was just leaving my Grandmother’s neighborhood when my phone rang. “I’m almost to your place now. I’ve got to pick up that thing and leave Calvin and Hobbes for you, and I can’t stay but for a minute.” Icecream said resolutely. “I’m just leaving my Grandmothers, I told you I wouldn’t be home until six thirty. I want to see you before you go.” I pleaded with him as I looked at the clock. “You want to meet somewhere? Walmart?” was his reply.
I had my letter to give him. I was going to tell him how sorry I was. I was going to tell him that I forgive him. I was going to cry. I was going to beg him one last time to stay. This was going to be a heart-felt and emotional good bye. This was going to be my closure. A WALMART PARKING LOT?
I practically handed my heart to Icecream to break, this is pretty obvious. I’ll be damned if he was going to run out of town with my dignity too by making a Walmart parking lot of all things (and no doubt Jolene) audience to our parting words. I hung up on him. “He’s a fucking idiot” BusyBee’s words rattled around inside my head as I drove home numb, fighting back tears through the gridlock. As I pulled into the drive way, I looked at the clock. Six twenty-nine pm. He never called back.
I drifted half consciously into my bedroom. I saw the Calvin and Hobbes book lying on the bed in the space his curls used to occupy. I sat down crying and clutched the book close to my chest. I very ceremoniously laid it back down where I found it and closed my eyes. I opened the front cover.
My eyes snapped open. I searched the inside front cover, puzzled. In the top left corner there were four lines scrawled with abandon. Like an entry in a middle school yearbook, written for some loser you hopefully and thankfully never see or hear from again.
Despite the end, I enjoyed
our friendship and the ride . I’ll
never forget who I learned you are ;J
I threw the book across the room. I watched the pages flutter through the air as it hit the wall and slid to the ground. I rolled over onto my pillow and sobbed quietly. Bill Watterson would be ashamed to see that written in his book, and I can’t think of a more hurtful way for Icecream to have used it. It felt genuinely mean. I sighed. None of this mattered anymore, thank God. I said a lonely goodbye to Icecream, and closed my eyes. It was finally over.