Page 22 of Mailroom Delight
But he pulled back.
He’d never done that before. Usually he’d hold me too like he never wanted to let me go.
Today he pulled back and stared at me. I recognized that look in his eyes. It was filled with so much sadness. I was already shaking my head before he got the chance to say anything to me.
“Paige. You have to let me go.”
“No.” I winced grabbing on to him.
He took both my hands into his.
“You said you’d never leave me.” Tears ran down my cheek.
“I didn’t. I’m always going to be with you, but you have to let me go. It doesn’t mean we have to forget.”
“I don’t want to.” My shoulders shook as I sobbed.
“You have to sweetheart. You have to. You have to let me go.” Those piercing green eyes that always looked at me with so much love now beheld me with firm determination.
He leaned forward and kissed my head, and that was it.
He disappeared right before my eyes…
* * *
I jumped up, out of my sleep, out of my dream in a cold sweat.
It was difficult to breathe as all my emotions built up within me. I had that feeling of being displaced again, but as the dream world unraveled from reality everything came rushing back on me.
My eyes landed on the picture of Paul and I on our wedding day. The picture was on the wall in a row with some others from our childhood.
Tears immediately sprung to my eyes, as I looked at the furthest one. The one of us by the lake where we used to meet. The one that was always featured in my dreams.
It was that same day he spoke those words to me.
“Paige you have to let me go. It doesn’t mean we have to forget. But you have to let me go.”
Those words imprinted on my soul and would be forever.
He said those same words to me minutes before he died.
* * *
I went straight to the mailroom to see Bernice the next day.
I was in one of my states of flux. She noticed my demeanor straight away as I entered and stopped drinking her coffee.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Paul,” I answered.
No one ever talked about Paul with me.
I knew it was such a sensitive subject, but sometimes I wished someone could ask me how I was and force me to talk about what happened.
I wished someone could force me to talk about him.
Seeing my distress, Bernice immediately got up, moved over to me, and ushered me to the sofa hang out area near the coffee machine. We sat opposite each other.
