He was here

He was here, now he's gone.

He wasn't really here, someone else was here, and they are gone, but he's still here.

It's yesterday again.

* * *
He smiles down at me, runs his hands through my cropped hair, sending delightful tingles down my spine.

One weekend on the coast, making love till we can't see straight. I barely glimpsed the ocean.

16 months of devotion all shattered by lies--

We stand in the parking lot, I'm sick, I know it's goodbye, and I know its up to me to say it. How can I drive away?

One last tearful hug--

You don't believe I still love you?

With a shake of my head, I'm gone.

* * *

My insides hurt to watch him walk by; he doesn't notice me--I don't flirt like the others do. But I watch him, tall, quietly kind, the resemblance is cruel.

But he's from France, his flight leaves today at 4.

I feel like I've lost all over again.

But it wasn't him.

* * *

2:10 ....

He just came back. To say goodbye. He shook my hand, grinned at me.

It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope to see you again.

And the tears decide to flow.

* * *

The Language of a Kiss
written back when we were good


"So far away
Doesn't anybody stay in one place anymore?
It would be so fine to see your face at my door
Doesn't help to know that you're just time away
Long ago I reached for you and there you stood
Holding you again could only do me good
How I wish I could, but you're so far away"
-Carole King

I awake at 6:45 a.m., as usual, to the thunderous clamor of two full-sized golden retrievers barreling down the stairs and down the hall right outside my room. I appreciate the cheapness of renting one basement room in another's house, but sometimes these early mornings are too much.

This morning, however, it isn't too much. It's Thursday, and not just any Thursday. It's the Thursday that I wait for every month: the Thursday that R, my fiancé, drives 300 miles to spend three days with me. Today is also the only day of the month that I am not tired at 6:45 a.m.; I'm too excited to be tired. I throw off my covers and head to the bathroom, eager to get through the next 12 hours and 15 minutes before R will, I hope, arrive.

Working in a warehouse in the rough part of town, my thoughts are all on R and the million-dollar conversation we have to have. Okay, he already almost decided once to stay in his hometown and go to the local stat university so he could be near his family and friends and live in the area he has lived in all his life. He just doesn't get it that moving away from all that is familiar to him could be the best thing for him. It will give us a chance to be independent, and make our own decisions. He told me he doesn't like how his parents are dictating to him what he needs to get done. If he stays down there, they are going to continue to do that. Doesn't he want some independence? If we start our life together up here, we are going to have to make all our own decisions, since our parents will all be 300 miles away. I know he'll miss his family; I still miss my family, too. But we all have to leave home at some point. And he wouldn't be going off on his own anyway. He'd be with me. We'd be together, bumbling through life, creating a future for ourselves. Why doesn't that sound exciting to him? He's already been accepted to a university here through the student exchange program, so he can start there in September, and he can find a part time job at the university. I'll be working two jobs and going to school part time, and I should be making enough money to pay the rent and bills and food and all that. But he is going to be living in a "foreign" country, and he's always lived in a small town, so this probably will be a big step for him. But what about me? He loves me, he wants to marry me, and if he has to move to a new place so we can be together, is that so hard? He already has opportunities here, being accepted into the university as a junior. And it's not like we are going to live here forever. Maybe it will work better if we live in his hometown after I finish school. He knows I refuse to move until I finish my program. And we are both going to have to make some sacrifices. But I've told him all this before. I don't want to offend him tonight, but I also want to get an answer as soon as possible so I can either relax and enjoy the little time we have together, or tell him to go home. Would I have the courage to do that? Hmm…

Work crawls by monotonously despite the speed of my thoughts. When 2:00 finally rolls around, I can't get out of there fast enough. I dash into the bathroom, peel off my layers of long underwear and thermal shirts, and put on some jeans and a sweatshirt. I rush back into the office to let my boss know I'm leaving. I run up the hill, laboriously, and climb into my car. Now I have to get to school for my communications class.

During class, my mind wanders into the future. I'll find us an apartment in a decently priced, clean building. He'll go to school every day and I'll go to work every day. We'll make dinners together when we get home and help each other with our homework. And when we crawl into bed each night, I will no longer count the nights left till he leaves. The nights will be innumerable. So I won't resist sleep, unwilling to waste the little time I do have with him, sleeping. Every Saturday we can buckle down and get our homework done, and on Sundays we can sleep in late, wrapped up in each others' arms, knowing that he doesn't have to leave at 2:00 p.m. to drive back to his hometown. Am I ready for all the responsibility that is going to land on me? Keeping an apartment clean, cooking, passing my classes, doing well at work, getting enough sleep, paying bills, saving money, paying car insurance, keeping my car all tuned up… oy vey. Well, at least I know what is going to be expected of me and I am willing to give it my all so we can be together. That should count for something.

Finally, it's 6:00 and class is over. The urge to speed the two kilometers home is enormous. I know there is an email from R waiting for me, so I give in. I let Betsy, my spunky red Jetta, fly me home. I park crooked, and a foot away from the curb, but that's good enough. I jog up the driveway, through the gate, in the downstairs door, up the hall, up the stairs and into the computer room. As anticipated, there is an email from R:

Hey Honey:)

Well it seems as though I am going to be leaving here between 12 and 1230, so I should be there roughly around 7 I think. Okay dear? I hope that you are home by then, otherwise I will take a nap in my car until you get back.

I will see you soon.
Love,
R

Yes! Only one more hour to wait, and now I'm sweating. Great. I thump back down the stairs and into the closet-sized bathroom. I apply deodorant liberally, wash my face and brush my teeth. I can't do anything with my hair, so I run a comb through it and leave it at that.

Back in my room, I debate over clothes. Tight or comfortable. Attractive or warm. I opt for the latter of both choices: comfortable and warm. Before I put on my dark blue sweatshirt and beige corduroys, I ponder over underwear. White bra or black bra. Solid or patterned bottoms. I opt for a white bra, and white bottoms with little penguins on them. I glance at my clock: 6:10. Ugh.

My heart is racing and my deodorant is ineffective as I plod up the stairs into the computer room. I sit down in front of the computer, the only place in the house from where I can see R's car arrive. I putter around on the People website, looking at pictures of celebrities, most of whom I've never seen before.

I know R is going to come down 4th Street, and a lot of cars seem to have had the same idea tonight. Lots of headlights, but no Saturn headlights. I give up on the computer and watch the headlights, willing each one to turn down my street. It's 6:55 when a car finally does. It pulls up behind my car and stops. He's here!

I shut down the computer in hurry, thunder down the stairs, down the hall, out the door, up the walkway, out the gate, down the driveway and onto the street. I'm at his car before he even opens his door. So I open it for him. He's finally here! When he finally finishes stretching and unfolds his six-foot frame out of his car, he lifts me off my feet in an enormous, rib-crunching hug.

In bed later that night as we lie side-by-side on our backs, I muster up my courage, knowing that the question I am about to answer will determine if our relationship does indeed have a future, and ask "So, have you made a decision yet?"

Way to go me. What happened to the calm, sensitive me? Geez, I make it sound like a business decision. Not one of my most eloquent moments.

I can hear the seconds ticking by, since my watch has an obnoxiously loud second hand. Okay, he isn't answering quickly. That's not necessarily a bad thing. He could just be rethinking it and making sure he's made the right decision, which is, of course, to go to school up here so he can be with me and we don't have to struggle through another year of seeing each other once a month. Damn it, hasn't he had enough time to think about it? We've been hemming and hawing over this for a week already.

I hear the sigh. That deep, heavy, drawn out breath that usually means he has come to a conclusion. Come on, come on, say something…

"I want to be with you."

I stop breathing. Did he really just say that? I don't have to worry that he is going to leave me for all that is familiar to him? Wait a minute... is he sure he wants to leave his family and friends-Okay, shut up. He said he wants to be with me. That's good enough for now.

I reach over, grab him around the waist and pull. After some more tugging and a grunt, he gets the hint and rolls over on top of me. I'm not looking to start anything; I just want the security of his weight and warmth to cover me.

I wrap my arms around him and give his neck a quick kiss, which means, "I'm not trying to turn you on, I'm relieved and pleased with your answer. And I love you."

He gives one of his pleased, murmury grunts in reply, "Mmm, thanks, dear."

* * *
Ironically, I'm wearing the above-mentioned penguin panties today.