Lonely, I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling. I cannot help but reach out and lay my arm in the space he would usually occupy when he is here.
If I get up in the night, I will not have to step around his mini sled full of belongings.
Where before that was a slight annoyance, now I find I desperately miss that, too, of all things.
I am a dumbass.
Is that not what it is called?
Why have I not freely and completely opened my thoughts to him before now?
It will be at least ten weeks before I see him again. That is a very long time.
That is, it will be ten weeks if I am fortunate and the turnaround goes quickly. It could be three or four weeks beyond that, if I am not.
Or, perhaps, if I am truly unlucky, one of the very unlikely things that could go horribly wrong will do so, taking Davies beyond my reach forever, and before I have had a chance to even tell him how I feel about him and our relationship. To admit to him that I wish for our futures to be permanently entwined. I suspect he understands I care deeply for him, but I need to speak the words to him.
I need to tell him I love him, and am in love with him, and that I wish to spend the rest of my life mated to him, contract or not.
I cannot keep doing this, saying good-bye to him. I do not desire to live in limbo.
Ihaveto admit to him what I feel and want.
By the next morning, I have barely slept at all and my mood is most foul. I finally give up trying to sleep and I leave for work over two hours early. I would rather be there and manage to be productive than sit around in my quarters and mope.
Or picture in my mind all the times Davies has been in my quarters with me.
As I take the lift up to the berthing sector, I think about Davies. His ship has likely jumped already, meaning that it will take a day or longer for any message I send him to reach him.
When I go home tonight, I know I will compose a message to him. I wish for him to know exactly how I feel.
If he were to ask me to quit my job and travel with him, I would consider doing that.
Happiness is precious, and a mate like Davies is a blessing. It is past time I stop ignoring the signals the universe is sending me and recognize what is in front of me.
Fortunately, we are busy today, which will keep my mind and thoughts focused elsewhere. With thePalmarian Rubaynedeparted, we will be berthing eight smaller vessels in its vacant space. By the end of my shift, I feel satisfied at a job competently accomplished, but lonely and empty once I remember that Davies will not be awaiting my return in my quarters.
No clumsy attempt at cooking for me.
None of his things cluttering my space.
As I take the lift down to the level where my apartment is located, my mind wanders to what I wish to write to Davies.
I miss you, love.
No, that is not how I should start it.
I love you, mate.
Peace settles within the center of my soul at that truth.
The longer I consider it, the more certain I feel of it.
There is no reason to further deny or delay admission of this truth, to myself, or to Davies.
Born far away and with a life full of experiences far different than my own, Davies is the one meant to be my mate. There is a delightful symmetry in knowing that Davies loves my family. I have always known they were a blessing, but I do not think I adequately appreciated them as much before now, after seeing them through my farborn love’s eyes.
It means quietly accepting that children will not be in our future. Perhaps we can adopt one day. Sometimes, ishblane children are offered for adoption. I personally would not care if they are ishblane. I have never understood why there is such widely held disgust for them. There is nothing different about them except skin color.
