Final Farewell

A final meal. For The Beatles Musical Extravaganza. Prompt: For No One.

He took me out one year

To a restaurant for with an old jukebox and warped wood floors

To celebrate my birthday, plus he had a coupon.

He told me this, as if I’d like to know.

Today is another place of tablecloths and daffodils

and the flavor of fresh made dill bread.

He’s employed, a recent change. After months of job fairs

With low-effort conversations and leads he didn’t pursue,

He has a job in a supermarket, and received his first paycheck.

He can treat me to this meal. I’m proud of him.

We sit and the prices on the menu are higher

Than the price of last month’s pizza and fries.

Order anything, don’t worry about the cost, he tells me.

He wears the khakis I bought him with a button-down shirt,

And sports a new haircut. He looks adult, even professional.

I like this version of my month gone ex-boyfriend. He speaks little

Of his role playing games, his weekends when he sits

In an empty room with aging social misfits. It is the highlight of his week.

A black-clad waiter brings bread and offers more wine.

We drink wine together, another first. He says he will never get over me.

I said we wanted different things, and we would be miserable.

It was a kind truth to a thirty-year-old adolescent.

He chuckles as he tells me of his grandmother. She said

He should have married me while he could. I smile from the other side of the table,

Peering around the vase of orchids.We finish, he pays, leaving

A generous tip. I step into the sunshine. April’s daffodils herald

Spring, an end to the bitter weather. We wave goodbye, and I go to my

Future in-laws house. The man I’ll marry waves me inside, shoving the dogs away.

I slip beneath his arm, where I belong.