Simon is leaving today. I’m crying and listening to the stupid mix I spent three hours making for him yesterday instead of working on the book. And now I don’t know if I can even give it to him because he might know I like him better than he likes me. He’s only moving to NY, but we’re not “staying together.” Our relationship has always had an expiration date. And even though I’ve never been sold on him as someone I could “really date” the tears are streaming.
I woke up with a hollow feeling. We were wrapped up in a pretzel from the night before, breathing in the quiet perspiration of sleep stuck to skin. It was the same way we woke up yesterday. Except, today I felt cold and my insides felt tinny. I tasted tin. My apartment looked different. Sharper. No more fuzzy haze of comfort knowing I’ll see him again like this. I’d been anticipating this day not realizing how I’d feel. And it had arrived as promised to me weeks ago. I pulled up the covers over our shoulders, up to our ears. Maybe if I cocooned us… . He looked at me and kissed my nose. He smiled, but not with his eyes. Did he feel as sad as I did, or was he worried about finalizing the packing?
I told him I’d miss him. Asked if we’d be able to see each other, if we’d talk. I was reaching on my tip toes for reassurance.
He reassured me that things would not be the same. That we’d stay in touch, and would visit each other. But it wouldn’t be the same. It would be as friends. Nothing more. “I care about you too much for that.” I shouldn’t have been offended, but I was because I knew he wouldn’t limit himself to these parameters with other girls.
“We’ll just see what happens and if we decide that maybe we want to try something more…” He was only being honest. And even though I’m not so sure it’s even something I’d want, I still want him to want me. I don’t just want to be the girl he dated one summer.