The Long Goodbye

She was supposed to leave at 10:30, but now the clock read 11:15 and she was still enthralled in conversation. Nora knew she had to leave, and in the back of her mind there was the ticking of the passing seconds, counting, counting, turning from zero one to sixty over and over, changing the minutes in the same pattern; forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one . . . . The hour had also passed, yet Nora did not drift from her comfortable stance—though she did not lay down her heavy bag either, as if to say, I am really going, but knowing there was no place else she would rather be. Her friend, Aimee talked as lively as if it was noon, yet she was also aware that the time was passing, non-stop like an overflowing river in springtime. She figured if Nora didn’t mind going home late, then all the better, for she sure wanted to soak in the back-and-forth exchange that had become so characteristic of their chatty friendship.

Although this wasn’t the first night they had stayed late talking, there was an ominous need to get out everything that came to mind; for after tonight, they no longer would work together; and though they promised each other to visit and meet and continue their philosophical rants that had become crucial to dealing with everyday life, both knew things would be different. Their friendship basked in the introspection of people and events; the elution of meaning distilled from either boring mundanity or perplexed societal drama. Both knew that the moment Nora punched out that night, the feeling of fullness would drain into a sense of loss that was to become part of memory and nostalgia for minutes long gone.

Nora shifted her weight from her left leg to her right and adjusted the weight of her bag. “I should go home now,” she said as she faintly gave Aimee the resigned smile that choked new topics from grabbing onto the dregs of the barely finished conversation. “I’ll see you for lunch on Tuesday,” Nora confirmed with a hint of forced optimism. They exchanged their good-nights dryly, and with a turn of the bag, and a careful glance back that found only emptiness, Nora stepped out onto the warm summer night.