II.II.III – Alone
II.II.III
ALONE
I had never lost anyone before then. This was all terra incognita to me. Luckily, I wasn’t alone. I had friends, and now, I also had someone by my side who made it a little more bearable. Only now, this someone too was about to leave me.
It was around the same time that Pedro’s job opportunity fell through and he couldn’t find another one, meaning he’d have to go back to Colombia before his visa would expire. Two people I loved taken from me in one fell swoop. Kinda like those freak accidents you hear about on the news “Charles, 32 and Martha, 29 were on their way to their child’s first dance recital when an SUV ran a stop sign leaving poor young Stella an orphan”. That’s exactly how it felt. Over the past few weeks I had grown accustomed to the idea that he would be staying in Malta. I let myself fall for him. I told more people about him. He was now my full-fledged boyfriend.
“So, what now?” I’d ask myself. “Do we break up? Do we do the whole long-distance thing?”. Of course, it wouldn’t really be long distance. It’d be more ‘the other side of the planet’ kinda distance. How could something so new withstand such a shock? “What if I find someone else? What if he finds someone else?” I’d think over and over. Would it even be worth the trouble? Not to mention, we’d be on two completely different time zones and we’d both be busy with our own separate lives. I was spiralling.
A particularly difficult semester was coming up so I definitely could have done with a little more time for studying. Over the previous few months I had been bending over backwards trying to give him (well, us) as much time as possible knowing he might be gone at any moment’s notice. Some of it willingly, most of it not so much. In fact, I ended up kinda resenting him at one point. I was spreading myself too thin for something I wasn’t completely sure I wanted. But I was sure of one thing – I loved him.
I loved him so much I resented him for it. There I was, all happy on my own and then he just had to show up all of a sudden and break me out of my very comfortable, very self-serving routine. I did feel like I was a much better person for it, but it was also consuming. When we’d be together, I’d be thinking about the things I needed to be doing and when I’d be doing the things that needed to be done, I’d be thinking about being with him. It made me feel like a complete and total blithering idiot. And it was much easier for me to blame it on him. And so, I grew to resent him.
When all had been said and done, that love-hate relationship seemed a whole lot better than the alternative. Whether in love or in hate, this guy had been in my life for three months by then. Just three months. But taking into account that this was my first relationship ever and that during that time we met up nearly every single day, it felt like we had known each other for way longer than that. Within those three months he became one of my best friends. And so, breaking up with him would not only mean the end of our relationship, it would also mean the end of a beautiful friendship too.
To him none of this seemed to be a problem though. He’d go back to Colombia for a few months, get a job and earn some money until he could afford to come back and give his dream of living in Malta another shot. That was his plan and he was dead set about it. As resolute as he was, I knew better. I knew better than to get my hopes up. I knew those words rang hollow. Not because he didn’t mean them or because he was trying to placate me. Not at all.
It was just that life always gets in the way. Countless times I’d ask my mother to buy me Pokémon cards back when I was young. I’d wait for her as patiently as any kid expecting awesomeness could, only to be told they didn’t have any in stock at the moment. I’d experienced that on a weekly basis as a kid. I knew disappointment. And I knew better than to get my hopes up.
The day of his departure came. I met him at the airport, he handed me a handmade card professing all his love to me and we kissed goodbye like any other couple would. He tearfully reascertained his return as I stood there, eyes as dry as the Sahara, knowing full well I’d probably never see him again.
“This is good!” I told him. “You’ll get to be with your family once again, your dogs, your friends! And you’ll be back in Colombia! Remember how much you love Colombia?”. My words sounded just as hollow to my ears, but they seemed to reassure him. And so, he left.
Experience seemed to have taught me next to nothing. The relief I thought would come with his departure was replaced by further grief. I was free, but I was also alone. I didn’t want out of that relationship, but I wasn’t really in either – I was never in. And this seemed like it’d be the final nail in the coffin. I knew it would die out soon enough and there’d be nothing left to salvage.