After the Last Goodbye

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I'm just starting this out to see how things go and hopefully I can really make this look good, so this will change soon

After the Last Goodbye

Dean Williams stood at the back of the small chapel, hands folded, eyes fixed on the closed casket at the front. Jamie Rogers. Even the name felt unreal after thirty years of silence. Dean hadn’t seen Jamie since they were all twenty-two, back when promises were made casually and broken just as easily by time.

The chapel smelled faintly of lilies and old wood. Sunlight filtered through stained glass, scattering muted color across the pews where strangers sat quietly. Dean recognized none of them until a familiar laugh, low, nervous, rose from the side aisle.

He turned and froze.

“Mark?” Dean said.

Mark Ellison looked older, broader, his hair more salt than pepper, but the grin was unmistakable. “Jesus, Dean. I thought you’d be taller by now.”

They hugged, awkward at first, then tighter, as if thirty years could be compressed into a single breath. A moment later, a woman approached, hesitating like she wasn’t sure she belonged there.

“Lena,” Dean said softly.

Lena Ortiz nodded, dark hair streaked with silver, sharp eyes glassy with tears. “Hi, Dean. Hi, Mark.”

The three of them stood together, stunned by the symmetry of it, reunited not by joy, but by loss. Jamie would’ve found that ironic. He loved irony. Loved pointing it out.

They sat together during the service, saying little. When the minister spoke of Jamie’s kindness, his generosity, his steady presence, Dean felt a strange ache. Jamie had been kind, sure, but steady? That wasn’t the Jamie he remembered.

Afterward, they drifted outside to the cemetery. Wind stirred the grass, clouds hanging low as mourners slowly thinned until it was just the three of them standing by the grave.

Mark cleared his throat. “So,” he said, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. “Thirty years.”

“Feels like yesterday,” Lena said. “And a lifetime ago.”

They stood in silence until Mark let out a short laugh. “You know what’s killing me? None of us talked to him for decades, and yet… here we are.”

Dean nodded. “I keep thinking I missed something. Like there was a whole version of Jamie I never knew.”

Lena stared at the headstone. “There was.”

They turned to her.

She hesitated, then sighed. “I didn’t think I’d tell anyone this. Not here, at least.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Jamie and I stayed in touch longer than you think. Not constantly, but enough.”

Mark blinked. “You never said...”

“I know,” Lena said. “Because he asked me not to.”

Dean felt a jolt. “Asked you not to what?”

“Tell you,” she said gently. “After you left town, after everything fell apart, Jamie went through a bad stretch. Worse than we knew. He started writing letters he never sent. To both of you.”

Mark frowned. “Letters?”

“He didn’t trust himself to say the right things out loud,” Lena said. “So he wrote instead. Apologies. Confessions. Things he never thought he deserved forgiveness for.”

Dean swallowed. Jamie had never apologized for anything back then. Pride had been his shield.

“He burned them eventually,” Lena added. “But not before letting me read one. It was about you, Dean. About how he pushed you too hard to stay when you wanted to leave.”

Dean felt heat behind his eyes. “He never told me that.”

“He didn’t know how,” Lena said. “He just knew he was sorry.”

Mark shifted. “Well. That’s...damn.”

He was quiet for a moment, then exhaled. “Guess it’s my turn to ruin your image of him.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“Jamie stole my car,” Mark said.

Dean stared. “What?”

“Not joyriding,” Mark said quickly. “He took it across state lines. Disappeared for a week.”

Lena laughed despite herself. “Jamie Rogers, criminal mastermind.”

“I was furious,” Mark said. “Then he came back and told me why. Said he got someone pregnant. Said if he didn’t leave town that night, he might do something stupid trying to convince her to come with him.”

Dean’s chest tightened.

“He slept in the car,” Mark continued. “Bought diapers, baby bottles. Tried to prove he could be a dad. When he came back, he handed me the keys and said, ‘Thanks for not calling the cops.’ Then he punched me in the arm and told me never to tell anyone.”

Lena shook her head. “He got someone pregnant? Who?”

“Esther Mitchell,” Mark said. “Turned out it wasn’t his.”

Lena scoffed softly. “She tormented me in PE. Rumor was she slept with half the football team.”

Dean let out a breath. “Wow.”

Silence followed.

Dean looked down at the grass. “I wasn’t supposed to come today.”

They turned to him.

“I almost didn’t,” he said. “Because the last thing I ever said to Jamie was awful.” He swallowed. “I told him he was afraid of growing up. That he’d never leave this town because he was scared of failing somewhere else.”

Mark winced. “Ouch.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. But here’s the thing.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a worn postcard. “Ten years ago, this showed up in my mailbox. No return address.”

He handed it to Lena. She read aloud. “You were right. I was scared. But I tried anyway. —J.”

“It was sent from Oregon,” Dean said. “I didn’t even know he’d been there. I never wrote back. Didn’t know where to send it.”

Silence settled between them.

Finally, Lena smiled sadly. “He kept moving, didn’t he? Always halfway between staying and leaving.”

Mark nodded. “And somehow still managed to show up for people.”

They looked at the grave again. Jamie Rogers; friend, coward, brave idiot, hero.

Dean exhaled slowly. “I hate that it took this to bring us back together.”

Lena touched his arm. “He’d say something smart about that. Probably inappropriate.”

Mark laughed. “Then tell us to get a drink.”

Dean smiled for the first time that day. “Yeah. He would.”

They stood a little longer, three old friends bound again by shared history and newly uncovered truths.

Word Count: 991
Written for: "The Writer's Cramp"

Prompt: Write a story or poem about three friends reuniting at the funeral of a fourth friend. They have not seen each other in over 30 years, and each of them share a unique memory of the friend they came to honor that are a surprise to the other two.

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