The Storm Before Goodbye

The weather report had promised thunderstorms before midnight.

Eliza was not worried about the dark clouds gathering over the hills. She had lived through enough storms to know they always always came with plenty of warning. The winds changed. The birds disappeared. The air became thick enough to taste.

People could always prepare for storms. They could buy umbrellas, coats, rain boots, rain jackets and sandbag their houses. It was the other kind of storm that frightened her.

She stood on the front porch of her old farmhouse she had inherited from her grandmother, Nana, clutching a mug of tea that had gone cold. The wind tugged loose strands of her dark brown hair across her face while the thunder rumbled in the background, somewhere over the hills.

Taylor would be here any minute.

Her best friend.

Twenty years of friendship.

Twenty years of birthdays, late-night calls, heartbreaks, celebrations, and promises that nothing would ever come between them.

But one confession could.

Eliza glanced down at the gravel on the driveway again.

Nothing.

She checked her phone. No messages.

Good.

That meant that Taylor was still coming.

She almost wished that she would cancel.

The first drops of rain tapped the railing against the porch.

Eliza remembered another rainy day a long time ago.

They were fourteen years old. Taylor had dared her to run barefoot through the biggest puddle they had ever seen on the walk home from school. They had come home soaked from head to toe laughing so hard that they could hardly breathe.

Her grandmother had pretended to be angry while secretly making them grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.

“You girls,” she said smiling, “will still be best friends when you’re old and gray.”

Taylor smiled.

“Forever.”

Forever, it has seemed like such an easy promise then.

A car pulled into the driveway. Eiza’s stomach twisted into knots.

Taylor climbed out of the car wearing jeans, sneakers, and the same faded blue rain jacket that she had owned since high school.

She looked exactly the same. A warm smile. Kind eyes.

The sort of person everyone trusted.

She waved. “There you are.”

Eliza forced herself to smile.

“You made it.”

“I almost didn’t.” Taylor laughed. “The traffic was horrible. It looks like we are going to get quite a storm."

“You have no idea.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Taylor frowned slightly but followed Eliza inside.

The farmhouse smelled like cinnamon and candles, and the scent of coffee was still in the air.

Everything looked cozy and comfortable. Perfectly normal.

If someone had walked through the front door, they never would have guessed one friendship was balanced on the edge of collapse.

Taylor sat on the couch.

“I brought pie.”

“You always bring pie.”

“That’s because you always forget dessert.”

“I do.”

They laughed. It sounded almost natural.

Almost.

Outside the rain began falling harder and the windows rattled from the wind.

Taylor wrapped both hands around her coffee mug.

“You sounded strange on the phone.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you said that you needed to tell me something.”

Eliza nodded.

“I do.”

Taylor waited.

“So…”

Eliza looked towards the window and watched the raindrops for a minute before she answered.

“Remember when we met?”

Taylor smiled.

“Second grade.”

“You stole my crayons.”

“I borrowed them.”

“You kept them.”

“Well, they weren’t new crayons.”

“They were.”

Both women laughed.

Another flash of lightning lit up the room.

Their laughter faded.

“I’ve been carrying something around for years.” Eliza finally said.

Taylor’s faint smile disappeared.

“You can tell me anything.”

“I hope that’s true.”

“It is.”

Eliza exhaled slowly.

“Do you remember Ryan?”

Taylor froze.

“My finance?”

“Yes.”

Silence settled between them.

Taylor nodded.

“I remember Ryan.”

“He disappeared three weeks before your wedding.”

“I know.”

“We searched everywhere.”

“I know.”

“The police never found anything.”

“I know.”

Eliza stared into her coffee.

“I lied.”

Thunder cracked directly overhead.

Taylor didn’t speak.

Eliza continued.

“I knew why he left.”

Taylor blinked and raised her eyebrow.

“What?”

“I knew.”

“You knew…?”

“I found a letter.”

Taylor’s voice became barely a whisper.

“What letter?”

“The night before he disappeared.”

The rain hammered against the windows. The storm had finally arrived.

Outside.

Inside.

“He came to see me,” Eliza said, “he was terrified.”

“Terrified of what?”

“Marrying you.”

Taylor’s face hardened.

“No.”

“He did love you.”

“Then why?”

“He had a secret and didn’t think that he deserved you.”

Taylor shook her head.

“No.”

“He asked me to give you the letter.”

Eliza reached into her drawer beside the couch and pulled out an old envelope.

It was yellowed with time. Worn and still sealed.

Taylor stared at it as if it might explode.

“I couldn’t.”

Eliza's voice broke.

“I couldn’t give it to you.”

“Why?”

“Because…”

Taylor’s eyes filled with tears.

“Because I loved him too.”

The words hung heavy in the air.

Taylor looked as though she had forgotten how to breathe.

“You…”

“I never told him.”

Taylor remained silent.

“I never acted on it.”

Silence.

“When he handed me the letter…”

Eliza swallowed hard.

“I thought maybe if I waited…”

“You let me believe…” Her voice cracked.

“...that he’d abandoned me.”

“Yes.”

“You let me think that there was something wrong with me.”

“Yes.”

“You watched me spend years wondering why I wasn’t good enough. And why did he leave me without saying a word.”

“I know.”

“You comforted me.”

“Yes.”

“You hugged me. We spent nights crying and eating cheesecake.”

“Yes.”

“You told me I would find someone else some day. You said that I would get closure.”

“I know.”

Each word felt like another bolt of lightning, another crack of thunder.

Taylor slowly reached for the envelope.

Her hands were trembling.

She broke the seal. She unfolded the letter. She read.

The room remained silent except for the rain and thunder.

When she finished, tears streamed down her face.

“He was also sick.” She whispered.

Eliza nodded.

“He had already been diagnosed.”

“He didn’t want me to spend my time taking care of him.”

“No.”

“He thought that leaving would hurt less.”

“Yes.”

Taylor stared at the pages.

“He died a year later.”

Eliza nodded again.

“I found out after the funeral.”

“You knew?”

“Yes. I did.”

Taylor stood up and walked towards the window.

Outside, the wind bent the trees nearly in half. Lightning flashed again.

“I lost him twice.”

“The first time…”

Taylor whispered.

“...because he left.”

She turned around.

“The second time…”

She held up the letter.

“Because you kept this.”

“I’m sorry.”

Taylor laughed once.

It was not a happy laugh.

“It took twenty years.”

“I know.”

“Why tell me now?”

Eliza looked down.

“Because I couldn’t live with it anymore.”

“So this was for you?”

“No.”

“It feels like it.”

“I wanted you to know the truth.”

Taylor shook her head.

“The truth would have mattered twenty years ago.”

The lights flickered and the power went out. Darkness filled the room.

Only lightning illuminated their faces.

For a long time neither woman moved. Finally Taylor spoke.

“I always thought that storms passed.”

“But some storms…” Taylor whispered, “never really end.”

The rain slowly let up and the thunder moved further away.

The weather seemed like it began to heal. But, inside the farmhouse nothing had.

Taylor forced the letter carefully into her jacket pocket.

“I’m glad that I finally know.”

Eliza nodded, unable to speak.

“But knowing doesn’t erase twenty years.”

“I understand.”

“I don’t hate you.”

Eliza looked up in surprise.

Taylor continued.

“I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I believe you.”

Another silence settled between them. It was different this time.

Not angry. Simply exhausted.

Taylor picked up her keys.

“I need time.”

“I know.”

“I honestly don’t know if we can come back from this.”

Eliza closed her eyes.

“I know.”

Taylor paused at the door.

“For twenty years…”

She smiled sadly.

“...I thought the biggest storm of my life happened the day Ryan disappeared.”

She opened the door.

“But I was wrong.”

She stepped into the cool evening air.

“The biggest storm was waiting all along in my best friend’s house.”

Eliza stood alone in the quiet farmhouse.

Outside, the clouds slowly drifted apart, revealing a strip of pale evening sky.

The weather had cleared.

But some storms, she realized, leave damage that sunshine alone can never repair.