On Letting a Friend Go

By Lou Foust

You told me you would grab your umbrella,
And I put on the sweater I kept next to my raincoat in my closet.
As we headed out the door I noticed you weren’t beside me, and
I looked back at you standing at the top of the stairs
safely under the balcony, opening your umbrella.

You smiled, but not back at me-
At something I couldn’t hear that she said in your ear.
You opened your black umbrella and I stood under it with you.
The cold water slowly dripped on my shoulder,
Seeping into the cloth.
plunk, plunk, plunk like a little drum above our heads.
I shivered
And didn’t give it a second thought.

As we walked you laughed,
And joy came over me watching you listen to her.
I was happy we were exploring the city together again,
Until a melancholy weight swept past
Not two weeks ago
We would’ve had no problem walking
side-by-side.
The clasp of the umbrella bounced off my forehead
Again, again, again, as you walked
And I was uncomfortable,
Shrinking and crumpling myself to stay dry under your umbrella.
You bounced gleefully through puddles,
and I kept smiling without saying a word.
Really if I spoke you wouldn’t have heard me anyway.

You walked faster,
and I trudged forward, suddenly realizing how hungry I was.
The rain picked up
From plunk plunk plunk like a little drum
to a parade rumbling celebratorily.
And I was walking at funny angles trying to stay dry with you.

As we came to the corner
I pulled back on the hood of your jacket
as a car raced by.
We chuckled awkwardly together,
Understanding that you were so interested in talking to her, you weren’t paying attention.
But when the road was clear
you picked up the pace again,
and my grumbling stomach started to get the better of me.
My arms were growing tired and weak,
And soon I knew I’d have to sit down.
I couldn’t seem to muster the energy to keep up.

Finally, you walked too close to a road sign.
I couldn’t stay beside you, and I fell back
With every intention of catching back up
But I tripped and just hung my head.
I sat down on the curb and held my hungry stomach.
Salty rain ran down my back, through my hair, and into my mouth.
And my coat sucked it all up,
making my shoulders too heavy to get back up.

When I turned my head, thinking I might call out
I saw you glowing as the clouds parted just for you
And you bounced gleefully through puddles,
Laughing at whatever she was saying.
I felt relief as my shoulders lifted just a little.

But I couldn’t help but think
that I should have worn my raincoat.