The next few days flew by. It was a mix of spending time at his apartment or spending time at home. My dad had some surgery so I fit in going to the hospital as well. I never wanted the day to end, I just wanted to be with M and in his arms. I was a masochist - I felt so sad when I was with him but also at my best. In the end we had 3 extra days together. Towards the end, I could feel him begin to pull away from me. He was preparing for what was coming. I didn't want to, or know how.
When we first got together M told me: First loves are hard. It wasn't the love part that was hard. It was the goodbye.
On the day that my visa came through I was at his house. He walked me to my car, he kissed me, and he turned around and left. I had no idea, couldn't conceive, of what I was losing and that as he walked out of the parking lot he was really walking out of my life.
He told me we would talk the first few weeks that I was there - help me to get settled and hear about my adjustment. But things were different the second that car door closed. I could tell that the part of him that was slowly pulling away was now closed off entirely. He asked me to message when I boarded and when I landed so he could know I was safe. I did. He was nice - but he wasn't my M anymore. He wasn't mine.
My mom headed down to London the day before I did, with her best friend. I got off the plane and took the tube to meet them. I put my bags down and immediately we started looking at apartments. By the end of the day I had signed a lease and bought linens and other household items. We didn't waste any time. I was tired and exhilarated and super excited to be in London and start school.
The first night we went for dinner and I slept in the hotel with my mom. She fell asleep quickly and in the quiet that finally surrounded me in my lonely cot I realized for the first time in 3 years I wouldn't be calling or messaging M to say goodnight. The tears came quickly and quietly. Eventually I fell asleep.
I spent the next day with my mom trying to get my life in order. At the end of the night I wanted to sleep in my apartment, be alone and allow myself sometime to breathe but she insisted I stay at the hotel again. I was overwhelmed. I couldn't bear to be surrounded by people and noise any more. I needed to find my own quiet. My mom fell asleep early again. I went and sat in the bathroom. I took a shower. I sat in the bathroom some more. More tears came. I messaged M - he answered briefly. He was busy, but glad I found an apartment and hoped I'd have a good week. Read: didn't want to talk or have much to say...
The next day we spent some time shopping. My mom was leaving that afternoon. We sat down and had some lunch before she left. She got a bit sentimental about leaving me in Europe. She had gotten used to the idea that I might be home for the year. Having that idea torn away so quickly was a lot to adjust to in such a short amount of time. But she was incredibly proud. Sounded so much like what M had told me just a few days before...
She left and I went back to my apartment. I found the quiet and solitude I needed for a few hours. I took another shower and a nap. I was a pretty big mess for the next 4 or 5 days. A zombie. I don't remember many of the classes, I don't remember meeting people, I don't remember smiling. I was tired. I couldn't sleep. Being in bed alone felt so foreign - especially because I didn't have a count down in mind. When I lived in Boston or Montreal we always had a count down - knew when we would see each other next. It was never much longer than 4 weeks. But this... this wasn't like before. This was lonely and I didn't have a calendar to tick off dates, because there was no particular date to count down too.
The second Friday rolled around quickly and S had decided I'd been sulking for too long. I think I was just so shell shocked at how alone I felt. She decided we were going out and I was going to have a good time! She came over, made me get all dressed up, and out we went. I put on a happy face and half way through the night I actually began to believe it. The drinking helped - I had a few drinks, and then I drank some more. I felt more like myself than I had since I got to London. But at the end of the night - when I would usually be heading back to M's apartment to crawl into bed with him - I headed home alone.
When I finally got home I sent S a message telling her I missed M. She knew where the conversation was headed. She begged me not to message him while I was drunk. Told me to sleep on it and if I wanted to message him in the morning I should do it then. I wasn't in a state to be reasoned with.
I messaged him anyways.
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