Flash Fiction: Goodbye

Source: Maria Oriova. Photographer. Pexels.

by Sue DeGregorio-Rosen, RN,CLNC, Contributing Editor

My Dearest,

When I first came to work for you, I felt flattered given the size of the monthly stipend you offered to pay me. I was honored to maintain your Victorian home so close to the ocean and less than a mile from Salem.  

In my experience a maid is privy to the most delectable secrets of a household…that need to remain an undisclosed intimacy. I once overheard you use the word dilatory when speaking to your partner. He just laughed. I shook my head at the time as he seemed not to take your words seriously. Whereas I embraced every word you said, and you knew it. So, when you intimated to me that you would no longer need my services. Well, it hurt. I have never before been with a man of your orientation until you. 

And then you told me I was your first experience with a woman…like me. It hurt to see you walk away, to hear you say you no longer loved me.  I cried, and you turned back to dry my tears.  You were kind, or so I believed, but I knew you had a separate life.  Even when you held me close, when you kissed me with so much passion, I knew it could never be, yet I wanted it to be, and I began feeling like your concubine. 

Whatever it was, I was so confused.  Confused when you came to me in the night, wanting me.  Just one more time, you told me.   You sat down on my bed in a separate part of the house, and you ask me to strip. Sympathy fuck? We all need them but I’m worth more. I allowed you and allowed myself.

Slowly, my feelings were beginning to change but I could not quite get off the ride you took me on because while the dynamics of what we once were changed, your scent still lingered between the bed sheets of my head, long after you were gone.

Love dissipates, though caring remains. When I looked into your closet, I was envious of your fashion as you were of mine.  We made our carnal fashion statement in your closet. We were very different yet the same. We both understood what it was to dress as the other. The liaisons were discreet even if casual and last minute.

And so it all feels so unfinished, to be your whore. It no longer matters.  I no longer want you in that way. I am much more than an option.  And sadly, you are just a goodbye.