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gone.
    Oliver was flipping through a hard-cover book, plumes of dust blooming from its pages as his fingers flicked across them. “I can’t remember if this is mine or yours,” he said, turning the book around to read its blurb.
    “It’s yours,” I lied. I wanted him to take a piece of me with him.
    He looked up at me and smiled, nestling the book among the other artifacts in his duffel bag. He walked across to the far wall, his eyes fixated on a spot above the desk. I followed his gaze up to a wedding portrait. It was out favourite picture, the one taken of us beneath the crabapple tree.
    We’d been so absorbed in one another, barely aware of the photographer standing just a few paces away. The hem of my wedding gown had been caught in the breeze, billowing up like a wide lace sail. We were laughing together, our eyes interlocked, bodies woven.
    I didn’t think it was possible to ever be as happy as I was that day. The reverend could have been speaking a different language, how little I registered or even paid attention to. All that mattered was my Oli, standing before me in his crisp tuxedo, a rose pinned to his lapel.
    There was a lull in the reverend’s monotonous drawling, and I realised with a start I was supposed to be slipping the wedding band onto Oli’s finger. My sister held the golden ring out to me, and I took it with a sheepish smile.
    I said my vows, tripping over the words in my eagerness. A tear was glistening on Oli’s cheek, and I reached up to wipe it away, despite the tutting of the stoic reverend.
    And then it was Oli’s turn, and he paused to let out a shuddering sigh before beginning. “I love you, Lila. I love the way you laugh at my bad jokes. I love the way you sing when you cook, and I love that you still think you can cook. I love the way you talk to inanimate objects like they’re people, and the way you always fall asleep right before a movie gets good.”
    Laughter rippled its way through the crowd.
    “But most of all, I love that today I get to marry my best friend.”
    I let the tears slip from my eyes, a cascade of hot, fat droplets.
    “I promise to love you each and every day, for the rest of our life together.”
    And then the ring was on my finger, our hands clasped. Oli lifted the delicate veil from my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears. I flung my arms around his neck, pulling him close. Our lips met, a gentle, chaste kiss, but an infinitely beautiful one, too. It was a look at all we’ve been through kiss. It was an I can’t believe we made it kiss. And it was a you are mine and I am yours, forever and always kiss. It was the best kiss of my life.
    “Do you mind if I take that?” Oliver asked, indicating to the portrait.
    “Go ahead,” I smiled, fighting away that pesky threat of tears once more. The rest of the words caught in my throat, forgotten, unsaid.
    Oliver reached up and slid the picture of its hook, tucking it under his arm. “I think that’s everything.”
    I nodded, feeling cold again. “So what happens now?”
   “I’m going to go stay with Tim until I find a place of my own,” he said, draping his duffel bag over his shoulder. “I might come back in the next few days to get some more stuff.”
    “That’s fine,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself.
    I watched as Oliver walked out the study and down the hallway to the front door, hesitating, his hand resting lightly on the door knob.
    “We’ll still be friends,” Oliver said as I trailed after him. “We’ll still see each other.”
    I nodded, and Oliver turned away, the door opening with a gentle sigh.
    “Wait,” I said. “Just a second.”
    I pressed myself against him, my hands on his neck. I wanted to dedicate those eyes to memory, forever.
I raised myself up on tip-toe, so that we were face to face. And then I drew in for a kiss, and Oliver didn’t resist. The kiss was meaningful, sorrowful, full of our faded love and aging memories. It was a thanks for everything kiss. A I’ll love you always kiss. But most of all, it was a don’t you dare forget me kiss. It was a goodbye kiss.
    I fell away, my bare feet hitting the timber floor with a soft thud. Oliver smiled, wedding portrait still under his arm. And then he walked through the door, the latch making a soft click as it closed. And then he was gone. Imprint

Publication Date: 07-20-2012

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