Goodbye

 “Do you remember this place?” I asked, spreading the blankets over the grass beneath the towering oak tree. It had stood upon this hill, overlooking the small city below, for as long as I could remember. There wasn’t much of a city to look at now; most of it was in flames. No one cared.

“I do,” Sarah said, smiling. “Our first date.”

“How long has it been?” I asked, setting the picnic basket down and taking my seat on the blanket.

“Fifty years today, actually,” she said. “What a strange coincidence.”

I opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of white wine and two glasses. I handed her a glass and worked at the cork, but my hands refused to cooperate. Sarah gently took the bottle and finished the job, handing it back to me. That is the way it works when you spend a lifetime with someone. You finish each other’s sentences; you finish the tasks the other no longer can. You offer a hand here or a word there. I was going to miss that.

“Same time, too,” I said. “Although it doesn’t look like 10:00 p.m., does it?” The sky should have been dark, stars twinkling between the leaves of the massive oak, but instead, it was a glowing soup of light. The stars were hidden behind the glare. We would never see them again.

“Not long now,” she said, taking a long drink. I refilled her glass.

“No,” I said. “Not long. It has been a good life, though. I’m glad I get to say goodbye.”

“You should have gone to the Ark,” she said quietly. “Your number came up.”

“But yours didn’t,” I replied. “And if I remember correctly, the contract said ‘for better or worse.’ I am a lawyer, after all. I know these things.”

She smiled. “It doesn’t get any worse than this,” she said.

“Or better,” I said, reaching over to take her hand. “I have no regrets. We had our ups and downs, but more ups than downs. We had more joy than tears, and for that, I am thankful.”

We could hear it now, a growl at first, then a roar that shook the very air around us. She gripped my hand tighter. “I love you,” she said. “Thank you for being here.”

“I would be nowhere else,” I said. “I love you more than you can know. Thank you for a wonderful life.”

The roar reached a deafening pitch, making talk impossible. I leaned over, kissed her, and held her tight as the shockwave hit.