Circling around my mind like the moon does the earth, filling it with thoughts of yesterday and tomorrow, memories are like clouds. The more there are, the cloudier your thoughts. The less, the clearer. I had a lot of memories. I had a lot of cloudy thoughts. I couldn't think straight, whether it was lack of sleep or lack of coffee, I couldn't decipher. All I knew was I had changed, drastically. I used to be so outgoing, and happy, but now... I preferred to stay at home, alone, crying my eyes out because I couldn't understand why I was so unhappy. I couldn't say I liked this changed, but I couldn't say I didn't. My bad habits were replaced with good. I stopped cussing. I had actually started to care for work, and I had begun smoking a lot less. I had always been a respected person, always clean and well kept, but now I felt I had OCD. Which I know I don't. I'm still pretty laid back. I'm more intent on learning a lot of things I would never have taken into consideration before.
But of all of this, I'm more intent on trying to remember. Remember him. His smell, his touch, his face. I missed him. I wanted him back. I needed him.
Here I sit, in my apartment in New York, staring out the window into the dark sky, the lights of the city shining in the distance. An empty wine glass in one hand and my phone in my other, his name on the screen. Should I call him? It would be early morning there. Shouldn't I? What to do, what to do? These past weeks were filled with his memory. I dearly missed him, but I knew he was a busy man, and I remembered well the argument we had...
"You can't leave."
"And why not?" I shot back in retaliation.
"I forbid you." He had crossed his arms over his broad chest by that point.
"You forbid me? What am I? Your child?" Fists were beginning to form at my sides. "This is why I require this break. You treat me as if I'm not your equal!"
"You are my equal, Richard. And you damn well know that."
"Then why is this break such a big deal?"
He never gave me answer when I asked that, though I think I know what it was. He didn't want me to leave, I knew that. I suppose he was going to miss me. I miss him... He walked out of his entertainment room, leaving me to ponder his answer to my question. I gave up on that and had left without telling him good-bye, without kissing him one last time. Without hugging him.
Was it too much to ask for courage to call the older man? Apparently so, because I had decided against it. He would have probably tried to talk me into going back home. I didn't need that. Emigrate was going so well, anyway. I didn't need anymore distractions than I already had. But to my luck, just as I was putting the phone on the table, it had begun to ring. My heart stopped as I looked at the name calling, hoping it was him. It wasn't.
"Hallo, Paul." I greeted, trying to sound like I was in a good mood.
"How have you been?"
"Busy, and You?"
The conversation went on like that for about five minutes. It wasn't unusual because Paul and I talked every day since I had moved, so we really saw no need to talk for hours on end. I was happy to talk to him at least. He always kept me updated on what everyone else was doing, so I wasn't entirely out of the loop. I placed the phone back on the table as I stood, ready to try and get some sleep. I knew that would be pointless, lying in bed, tossing and turning, fighting to get to sleep, eventually falling asleep, but always waking up more exhausted. A good night's rest for me was futile.
So instead, I headed into the kitchen and poured myself another glass of wine, taking my seat again in front of the large bay window, wondering what he was doing right now. I finished my glass, and sighed. I'm going to call him. Reaching for the phone, I pulled up his name, and pressed send, my heart rate flying through the roof as the other end rang. I smiled as a groggy voice answered. "Hallo?" I remained silent, too scared and too excited to actually say anything in reply. "Hallo?"
"Ja, this is him."
"Why are you calling?" He sounded angry, but... depressed. His voice was hoarse, like he had been crying, maybe?
"I've missed you to be bluntly honest."
He was silent, but I smiled as his voice sounded happier, too. "I've missed you as well, liebe."
"Emigrate is failing."
"Paul has told me."
"I'm thinking of moving back."
"Oh, uhm, really?"
Why did he suddenly sound so incredibly nervous? I soon heard my answer in the background. It was Schneider's voice... "Who is it, Till?"
"Ssh. It's Richard."
"Why is Schneider there, Till?" I felt tears bubble up and my heart sink low.
"Well... I was hoping you wouldn't find out, actually..."
"Tell me, Till." A choked back a soft sob. "I thought you love me..."
"I do! I do, don't say I don't."
"Then tell me!" A fury was beginning to grow inside me.
"Since you've been gone, I've been depressed, and Schneider was only helping me get over my depression. He came over one day, and I couldn't help myself... I kissed him, and one thing lead to another... And..."
"Enough. It was a mistake calling you." I hung up, not bothering to say good-bye properly.
All these long weeks, I thought he still cared, but I was wrong. I'll show him, though. I'll get back at him. I have my ways, and my ways always makes the other crash and burn. He'll be begging for me when I'm done with him...
"What?" I answered with a growl as he called back.
"It didn't mean anything, I swear..."
"How do you expect me to trust you now that I know what you had done?"
"We hadn't exactly openly shown our feelings for each other, Richard, so I was to know you truly loved me back?"
Touche, fat man. "I suppose you're right..." I sighed as a tear rolled down my bony cheek. I hated when he was right.
"I'm sorry, though."
"I am, too."
"We have trust issues."
"That we do."
"When you get back, I want you to move in with me."
I couldn't help but smile softly at that. "I'll have to think about it." What I had actually meant was yes, but I wanted him to wait for me. Just like I had waited for him. "I'm getting tired. It's late here."
"Go to sleep, then."
"Good morning, Till." I smiled.
"Good night, Richard."
Even though we had cleared up that... misunderstanding?... I still felt I couldn't trust him. It's like he did say, though. We have trust issues. But what normal relationship doesn't? Should I even say that what we have is a relationship? I'm unsure myself. But whatever we have, it works. That's what matters most, I think. I sat there, wondering what it would be like to live with him, seeing him every single day, showering in his shower, maybe even sharing a bed with him...
I closed my eyes as they grew heavy, my smile never leaving my face.
That was probably the best night sleep I had gotten since I moved here.