For the next four weeks, she wore that old, navy blue scarf every day. A friend, not knowing it was mine, asked if she slept with it under her pillow. She turned a very bright red and changed the subject.
I remember one time she had asked what cologne I wore. It was Polo, my one extravagance. I asked why she wanted to know and she smiled and told me she liked the smell, but it was starting to fade from the scarf.
I never did get that scarf back...
We had arranged to meet up at the usual place the Friday before I left. We sat and talked for a while, again, about nothing in particular. Since we were driving cross country, she expressed concerns about us getting caught in a snowstorm in the Cascades or the Rockies. I told her that my older brother and dad were quite confident we would be OK, and I had faith in their judgement. (Still, my mother, sister and little brother were flying out...). After that she insisted I send postcard from all the places we stopped and gave me a bunch of stamps. I agreed, and told her I would write once we got settled in and she would have to write back. She agreed.
She gave me a three pictures: One of her, one of me and one of the two of us in the coffeehouse. I gave her a sharp look. At the beginning of the year, she started photography. All the students were issued cameras, but not given film. This was to get them used to carrying around a camera, working the focus and working the meter. It was also, she told me, to get everyone used to them carrying cameras so people would act natural around them. She laughed and said that they were issued film about a month ago.
Our time was about up and her mother would be there soon to pick her up. We stepped out of the coffeehouse to wait. This place was, in fact, a coffee house. That is to say, the building was a house and they sold coffee. In front was a covered porch, where we took refuge from the rain.
Her mother pulled up in front of the house, and I walked her to the car. Since that day in November we always kissed each other on the cheek when saying goodbye. We stood by the side of the car, in the rain, looking at each other. This was it. This was goodbye.
When our lips met the fear and anxiety and uncertainty of the future no longer mattered. All there was was this moment. When the kiss was over, I looked at her and started to say something, but she put her fingers up to my lips, closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. She lowered her hand and we kissed again.
I don’t know if it was a raindrop or a tear that ran down her face as she looked back at me trembling, but her smile and her eyes told me...
She climbed into the car and closed the door. She looked over at me and placed her hand on the window. I reached out, but the car had already started moving.
I stood there, watching as the car drove down the block, turned and went out of site.
That was the last time I ever saw her.
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