Page 89 of Afterglow
The two-month trial of only seeing him between series of road games didn’t prepare me for the long stretches apart. It was tolerable for the first couple of weeks of the new year. Post-winter holiday festivities continued, and this island on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean felt cheery. But the beginning of spring is wet and cold and lonely and depressing.
It’s no help that the radiator in this apartment swings between freezing to so hot I can’t breathe. Or that there’s a sticky note on my fridge in Fletcher’s handwriting that says, “No hot girl dinners while I’m gone!” serving as a constant reminder that my boyfriend knows me too well and it’s exactly what I’d be doing if not for the stern warning.
And it’s only March. I mean, phone sex is hot and all, and I know I’m being a needy, whiny, spoiled human, but it’s not thesame thing. Logically, my brain says it doesn’t matter if I’m in Ottawa or London if he’s gone all the time, but beingthisfar from him forthislong? It’s becoming unbearable. Which makes this next conversation that much more painful.
My thumb hovers over the word Dreamboat on my phone screen, yearning to hear the calm, deep timbre of his voice. I accidentally hit the message icon, and the view changes to our most recent exchanges.
Me
Did you know you make my heart race??
Dreamboat
Did you know you make my heart beat?
Me
Swooooon. You always say the best things.
Dreamboat
That’s because you are the best thing
Me
God, I miss you. I wanna kiss you. Like right now.
Dreamboat
You were the first
Me
And I’ll be your last!!
Dreamboat
Damn right. And everything in between.
Me
*blowing kiss emoji* I love you so goddamn much.
A long sigh exits my nose. I squint one eye while studying the clock, wondering what time it is in Seattle and if he made it back to the hotel after his game or if they flew back right after, but the mental gymnastics require too many brain cells and I’ve only got the one on this particular night. I shoot my shot and hope for the best.
Me
Is now a good time to talk?
Dreamboat
Gimme 2 mins
Me
Okayyyyy
The intercom for the outside door of my apartment building buzzes, and I hit the button to allow entry. I shouldn’t be ordering food so late, but the caseload has been grueling, and I skipped dinner entirely. Fish and chips are no replacement for poutine, but some semblance of French fries is better than nothing. In my rush to answer the series of heavy knocks, I trip over my own feet, face-first into the wooden door. It temporarily stuns me, but I manage to twist the knob open, sucking air through my teeth while rubbing a palm over the sore spot. My squint widens, returning my vision.
