One Last Evening
It was an ordinary evening. I was sitting on my sofa, watching television, when strange things began happening outside.
Children were running through the streets in costumes. Some wore frightening masks; others carried little pumpkins with glowing faces. I assumed they were playing Halloween pranks. I had never really understood the tradition, so I paid little attention.
Then someone knocked on my door.
Three times.
I opened it.
My girlfriend stood outside.
She was wearing the dress I remembered from our last date. Her hair fell loosely around her face, and her lips curved into the familiar smile that could make me forget every stupid thing I had ever done.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
“Of course, darling. Why are you standing outside like a stranger?”
She smiled, but something about that smile made the hallway seem colder.
She stepped inside.
The television flickered. For a moment, the screen displayed nothing but static. From somewhere in the kitchen came the sound of a spoon falling onto the floor.
I turned to look.
Nothing had moved.
When I looked back, she was standing beside the window, staring at the darkness outside.
“What’s wrong with you tonight?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “I just wanted to see you.”
I laughed and reached for her hand.
Her fingers were freezing.
“Good Lord! Have you been standing outside in this weather?”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she rested her head against my shoulder. I held her close, trying to warm her hands between mine.
For a little while, everything felt normal.
We talked about silly things. She asked whether I still remembered our first meeting. She laughed at one of my terrible jokes, although I noticed that the sound seemed to come from somewhere far away.
Then she asked a question that made me stop smiling.
“If I disappeared tomorrow, would you miss me?”
I looked at her.
“What kind of question is that? Of course I’d miss you.”
“Would you remember me?”
“Darling, what’s gotten into you?”
She lowered her eyes.
“Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“Don’t forget me.”
I promised.
Outside, the children’s laughter suddenly stopped.
The house became so quiet that I could hear the clock ticking on the wall.
Then came another sound.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
This time, the knocking came from inside the bedroom.
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I stared towards the hallway.
“Did you hear that?”
She nodded.
But she wasn’t looking at the bedroom.
She was looking at me.
Tears had begun to roll down her cheeks.
“What’s happening?” I whispered.
She took my face between her cold hands and kissed my forehead.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
The lights went out.
In the darkness, I heard her crying.
I reached for her, but my hands found only empty air.
“Darling?”
Something brushed against my cheek.
Then I heard her voice beside my ear.
“I came to say goodbye.”
The lights flickered back on.
She was gone.
On the sofa lay a small, folded piece of paper. My hands trembled as I opened it.
There were only six words written inside.
I’m sorry I couldn’t come back.
Beneath them was yesterday’s date.
And suddenly, I remembered the telephone call.
The accident.
The hospital.
The funeral I had attended only a few days ago.
My girlfriend had died.
I sank to the floor, clutching the paper against my chest.
Outside, the children began laughing again, their little lanterns moving through the street like wandering stars.
I finally understood why her hands had been cold.
Why she had asked me to remember her.
Why she had come on the one night of the year when the world dressed itself in ghosts.
She hadn’t come to frighten me.
She had come because she had only one evening left to say goodbye.
And I, the greatest fool who had ever called himself her boyfriend, had spent half of it asking why she was so cold.
I looked towards the empty doorway.
“Darling,” I whispered, “you could have stayed a little longer.”
From somewhere beyond the window, I heard her laugh.
Softly.
Tenderly.
Just as she used to.
Then the clock struck midnight.
And for the first time since her death, I was truly alone.
