A hundred thousand goodbyes

I woke up very early: I need not just to tidy up, today I need to shine. Today, more than ever, I need to be confident, sweet, witty, and, of course, dazzlingly beautiful. Because today is your wedding... I don't expect that standing at the registry office, looking at me, you'll say "no" at the last moment. Neither you nor I need that. That only happens in cheap Hollywood movies. The bride says "no," rushes into the arms of the one she truly loves (or he loves), holding hands, they run away, and friends and relatives wish them happiness as they go. That doesn't happen and it won't. Not because I don't want it. I feel sorry for you. You were always afraid of the consequences.

You—confident and brilliant—were afraid of what others would say. "I can't...", "It's wrong..." were your excuses. You're one of those who whispers "I love you" at night and in the morning insists it was just another mistake. It was always like that. I wasn't offended, because I knew: you would call in the evening and say how much you missed me.

For five years we were sometimes together, sometimes just nearby. I knew all your men. I wasn't eaten by jealousy, because I knew they were just a dash in your life. We never swore fidelity to each other. Over the years, I also had fleeting romances. But I easily changed a romantic dinner with a new flame for the chance to simply be near you. You asked me to come, and I ran headlong, dropping everything and everyone. Ran to you. How could I refuse you? It didn't bother me.

Even when He appeared in your life, I didn't worry. Because, as before, you called and ran to me at night. Nestling in my arms, you told me what he was like in bed. Yes, I listened, but didn't hear, nodded my head, but more automatically than in agreement or approval.

Once (it was already very late) you called and begged to meet. How could I refuse you? But I should have refused... You came... There was something wrong with you. As always beautiful, but very sad.

— Darling, what happened?

— Forgive me...

You fell to the floor and sobbed. You kissed my feet, tears made it hard to speak. And I understood... I understood that you were saying goodbye.

— When is the wedding?

— In August...

What did I feel then? I don't know. It seemed like all this wasn't happening to me. It's all some stupid comedy. Here on the screen, two girls are sitting on the floor in the hallway: one is crying on her friend's shoulder, and the other is tenderly holding her close, comforting her, stroking her blonde strands of hair. Couldn't be dumber! But that's me!! I—the main character of this idiocy!!! And this is MY girl, whom I'm losing!..

The wedding was beautiful and lavish. She was beautiful. I sincerely, from the heart, wished them happiness and shouted "bitter," it seemed, louder than anyone. Going outside again for a smoke... tears rolled from my eyes on their own. Probably, it finally just dawned on me what was happening.

— Nastya... — It was her. She came up, gently hugged my neck, laid her head on my shoulder. — Kiss me. — Your quiet voice. — I really need this, I can't be without your lips. I want to always remember their taste...

How could I refuse you?..

biz-25@mаil.ru