“It's forever. I've only had five days with you!” I pull her back into me, but her body feels a lot more rigid now.
“I’m sorry I’m hurting you.” Her arms come around my waist and I feel her stroke my back. Her touch is so gentle and intentional that for a few brief moments, I exhale and relax into it, but immediately that peace is tinged with the sadness when I remember that nobody touches me like her. And nobody will for five fucking years.
“And we really won’t see each other?” I ask, my mouth back in her hair. “Can we talk? Can I text and call?”
She shakes her head against my chest. “No, I don't think so.”
“But why? If I'm not seeing you then it's still time apart.”
“I want you to explore other options,” she says quietly. “Other lovers, or partners.”
“What the fuck, Jenna!?”
Her whole body sighs. “I'm not saying this because I want that to happen, but I do want you to be as happy as you can possibly be, and if that's with someone else, Marty...” She takes another breath. “Well, I'd never be able to forgive myself if you missed out on that.”
Her words are so cruel and yet so deeply laced with love. It makes no sense and yet I know there’s truth there. “How can you even think like this?”
“Because...” She pauses and I wait. She doesn’t have an answer for me and instead continues talking like I never asked. “After five years, if you still think what you feel for me can go the distance, we'll give it a go.”
Swallowing, I feel how heavy the lump in my throat is. “I can't have nothing. I can't just go from this to not hearing from you again. In five years, you'll have forgotten about me.”
Her smile shrinks into a very knowing pout as she shakes her head looking down at me. “You have to trust me when I say I will never forget about you, Marty.”
“I need something to hold on to,” I say. “I need to know I can contact you if I need to.”
She sighs but there's no impatience in it, only fatigue and sorrow. “You can have my address. And if you want, you can give me yours.”
“I want,” I say although it feels like begging for crumbs.
“But we make no promises to each other. I don't expect you to get in touch. I don't expect letters, or anything.”
“Oh, you'll get letters. I've never had a pen pal before,” I say, and my first attempt at a joke in this conversation lands as miserably as it's delivered.
Her pulling back is instant. “No, not pen pals, Marty. Just, if you need to get in touch with me for an important or urgent reason, then you can, but it has to be by post. That way you have to think about it before, during and after you do it. Texts and emails are too easy and quick.”
“You want me to have time to stop myself contacting you?” I hold her elbows and give her a little tug as if to pull her back in, back into reality, maybe, but she doesn't move, not an inch.
“Yes and no,” she says. “Like all of this, it's yes and no.”
This is when I start to tell myself things to try to make myself feel better. I don't want to spend any more time arguing with her. She still has a flight to catch after all and I don't want to waste a single second with hostility. This is why I tell myself that I will agree to her suggestion, but I will keep in touch. I will send her notes and letters and make her realise that I cannot be without her, that I will wait however long I need to and then we will be together. Unless...
“What ifyoumeet someone?” I ask. “What if you meet someone and you fall in love and you have those babies you maybe want.”
“I still don't really know how I feel about kids,” she says. “But I know you are not ready for them.”
I nod. That much is true.
“But these are your years for it.” It chills me to my core to think of her having children with someone else, but the idea of her missing out on it, that would hurt me too.
“They are,” she says. The corners of her eyes and mouth fall and for a second, I think she's about to cry again. “But honestly, I'm not even thinking about that right now.”
“But you might meet someone,” I say again.
She shrugs. “I might. Andyoumight,” she adds with more emphasis.
“This sucks so fucking much!” I turn my head and shout out to the room.
“Yeah, it does.” She is crying now, so I stand up and pull her back into my chest and we wait like that for her tears to dry and for my brain to formulate a plan to keep her close.
