It would appear the more you're dreading an event unfolding, the faster time seemed to pass. I tried to stick to a normal routine; my daily run helped me clear my head, but I’d have to run a thousand miles before I’d be prepared for the reality of what was happening. David was leaving tomorrow, and that meant I was not just folding his clean laundry, but packing it away in a suitcase. I had almost packed Beast along with his shirts because the little guy kept sneaking inside.
In an attempt to make light of an otherwise dreadful situation, I passed the time with mundane conversation. “I don’t understand how you’re just taking one suitcase and a carry-on. I would need at least ten suitcases and that would be for my shoes alone.”
“Well, I suppose that means when we’re married and I’m rich, our home will have to have its own wing just for your shoes.”
I walked over and wound my arms around his waist, stretched up, and kissed his chin. “I don’t know what was sweeter about that statement, the fact that you seriously spoke about us being married or that my shoes will have their own section of the house.”
“I aim to please, love.”
I let go, returned to my pile, and folded one of my favorite shirts of his, inhaling the fabric deeply before placing it lovingly into the suitcase. “I don’t know how I’m going to exist without you.”
“Hey, don’t think for a moment that this isn’t tearing me up inside. You just have to keep telling yourself: this is temporary. One day we’ll look back on this little hill that we had to climb in order to reach our happily ever after.”
“We’ve never been apart longer than a week.”
“That’s all this is. One very long week.” He shrugged playfully. “The days will just happen to repeat on occasion.”
Yeah, and repeat… and repeat. I had to change the subject before I started crying. “You must be looking forward to seeing your old friends and where you grew up.” David hadn’t been home since before we met.
“I’ve grown apart from most of the old crowd. I’m sure some wankers will come out of the woodwork to try and rub elbows with me now that I’m no longer singing in shitty pubs. Who knows. If they do, I’ll just tell them to piss off.”
“Well, David, no one can ever accuse you of being subtle.”
“I feel like a real shit for missing your audition. I wanted to be there for you when you went in, and when you came out.”
Yeah, we were planning on getting matching tattoos for my audition. It would have been my first one. Looks like one less thing I had to look forward to.
I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and bit down on my bottom lip as I refolded a shirt that was already folded. “Brit will go with me. No biggie.” I forced a smile and shrugged it off. “Besides, I’m only applying to Juilliard because I heard their rejection letter was really nice.”
David stepped closer and touched my cheek ever so gently with the back of his fingers until my eyes met his gaze. “Kristen.” He was looking at me so seriously. “You have always accomplished everything you have ever set your mind to. Don’t start doubting yourself now.”
“You really believe I can get in?”
“I never once doubted you couldn’t get in.”
I placed my hand on his chest and looked at the silver promise ring. He believed in me, and I believed in us. I had to. Like he said, this was the uphill climb to our happily ever after. David cocked his head to the side, and his eyelids appeared heavy. I glanced at the clock. It was after one a.m.
“Babe, you need to get some sleep. Traveling while exhausted is not fun. This is the last shirt anyway.” I tossed in his T-shirt and zipped his suitcase closed.
“I don’t want to miss out on any moments with you,” he said with a yawn.
“That yawn just sealed your fate.” We settled on top of his bed, and despite his protest, David fell asleep quickly, but I stayed up and traced the tattoos on his skin, committing every line to memory. It was like a quilt of moments stitched on his arm. I had always hated tattoo sleeves, until I saw David’s. They were beautiful, and I couldn’t imagine him without them. His wrists held more simple tattoos… guitars and music notes, a few roses. They were some of the first ones he had ever gotten. He started collecting them back when he was seventeen and living in London. His first was a crude heart that his friend had done for him. But as the tattoos moved up his arm, they became more elaborate, more intricate, and vastly more detailed.
He had a medieval sword being guarded by a dragon that took up his entire forearm. His other arm had this amazing portrait of a woman with a sugar skull with vibrant roses in her hair. He had gotten that one after he’d visited New Orleans. His body was a map of his life, complete with our relationship on his neck.
My favorite was an angel that was up high on his shoulder. One wing was wrapped protectively around a woman, holding her close. It was forbidden love. I remember the first time I saw that tattoo, I was taken aback by it. It was so beautiful, yet so romantic. I guess I never saw David as having that side to him until he had literally shed his clothing and bared his soul. That’s when I knew he was everything I ever wanted. I kissed the angel and rested my cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and praying that morning would never come.
But it did.
It was still dark out when we reached the airport. “Just drop me off here,” he said, pointing to the curb where a valet was waiting to take his bags.
“Absolutely not. I want to go in with you. I’ll park in the lot.”
David caught my wrist and squeezed. “Kris, you can’t even come with me once I get my boarding pass. It’s ridiculous to pay eighteen bucks for parking when you can’t go farther than the first revolving door. Besides, even if you could, I am not about to have you walk back to your car in the dark. It’s not safe, and I refuse to leave you if I’m feeling for a second that you’re not safe. It’s bad enough you wouldn’t let me take a bloody cab.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but David just shook his head. “Let me protect you while I still am around to do it, okay?”
I nodded and pulled over to the drop off spot he had suggested before. Thankfully, it was pretty empty. At four-thirty in the morning in the middle of January, not many people were flying out of Pennsylvania. My hands started shaking as I un-clicked my seat belt. This was it. David was leaving, and I had no idea the next time I’d ever see him again— or even if I’d ever see him again.
He jumped out with far more energy than I had and went to retrieve his suitcases. I got out of the car as he was closing the trunk and hugged myself to keep warm.
David wheeled his luggage over to the outdoor check-in and the man took his large suitcase and slapped an orange sticker on it. My heart started to beat fitfully. I took a few deep breaths as he walked back to me, the world starting to wind down into slow motion.
“So this is it?” I asked, my voice shaky.
David nodded slow, and I fell apart. Body shaking, heart beating in an erratic rhythm sort of fall apart. He pulled me against him, and I cried into his chest. I couldn’t do this. I thought I could, but I couldn’t. It hurt too bad and that was with him right in front of me.
“It’s going to be okay.”
But was it going to be okay? Was this just a blip in our lifetime that we would look back on and smile because it had made us stronger? Or was this the departure that we wouldn’t be able to withstand? Maybe we could only exist in this space and time, and to alter that would be to alter our destiny.
My fingers gripped his jacket tighter. I was running out of time. And words. “I love you so much. I just want to go with you,” I pleaded like a small child trying to keep their castle in the sky just a little bit longer.
“I wish you could, kitten. But you have another semester left, and I’m not going to mess that up because I selfishly want you by my side. Besides, there’s your audition.”
I squeezed him tighter. His leather jacket was cold, and I knew he wasn’t dressed for this weather. So stubborn! When I pulled back, I removed my scarf and wrapped it around his neck.
“Now you can take me with you.” I forced a smile, but my bottom lip was shaking. David’s brow furrowed, and for a spilt second, I saw him struggle with the concept of getting on that plane. The look in his eyes was clear. If I asked him to stay, he would.
But I had to let him go. “I love you, David Archer. Go be the rock star I always knew you were.”
He leaned in and crushed his lips against mine. I imagined myself as one of those women who kissed her man when he went off to war in the 1940s. I knew this was not as drastic, but it was just as unpredictable. David could fall in love with London; he could become a sensation and go on tour. Or worse, he could realize it wasn’t that difficult to live without me. So he had my lips tattooed to his neck, big deal. That was just a memory of a time in his life. No more, no less.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, cradling the back of his head in my hands. The sides and back of his head was freshly shaved, and I rubbed my thumb across the grain to feel the friction. David’s kiss was bittersweet. Passion dripped in sadness. His lips fit so perfectly against mine, I couldn’t imagine not feeling them for weeks or the more realistic option— months.
“Never forget how much I love you,” he spoke against my lips.
By now, I had come undone, like a sweater with a loose string, his words gave a swift pull, removing everything that offered safety in my world, leaving me confused in its wake. My entire body trembled from the realization that I had to navigate these unchartered waters without my Northern star “I love you so much,” I choked. So much for being his rock.
David moved his mouth close to my ear. “Listen to me. I’m coming back, love. This is not good-bye. I promise.”
I pulled him closer, greedily wanting his lips for a few more precious seconds. When we broke apart, he had a heartbroken look that must have mirrored my own. I couldn’t speak, just nodded, giving him the permission he needed to walk away. Walk away from three years of us. He squeezed my hand. “Go get in the car. I need to see you safely drive away.”
Again, I nodded, and feeling the tears well up, I got in and started my engine. I looked in the rearview mirror at the man of my dreams standing in the cold, his hands in his pockets, his mouth buried into my scarf. He pulled one arm up and gave me a wave, and I drove away, hoping against hope that we just didn't share our last kiss.