ℂ𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕖𝕠𝕟 𝔾𝕝𝕠𝕨 ➃

44. The First Step - ✭ Monica ✭

We had agreed to separate, knowing it was what's for the best for the both of us right now. Boston wasn't going to meet up with my family, especially not after our exchange. He was initially going to leave town. Our break was supposed to commence because it would hurt too much to spend time together, to delay the inevitable, that's what we'd said. Though we had agreed to that, promised each other a clean break, we did the exact opposite.

Boston stayed in town and I visited him every single day, cherished every last moment with him. I reveled in everything that was him. His scent. His touch. The sound of his voice. It was like I couldn't get enough of him, almost like he was a drug—I wanted to consume all of him before he was gone.

We had sex, made love, and even fucked, several times, getting every emotion out there. All the anger. All the sadness. All the love, but there was never enough of that. Even after we'd go at it, in an almost violent fashion, I could still sense his love for me. I could still feel it even when he looked like he hated me in the throes of passion.

We hadn't exchanged Christmas gifts like we said we would. Nothing turned out like we'd said it would, like we thought it would. Everything was the beginning of the end for us, at least that's what it felt like.

Instead of all the things we said we were going to do together in Boston, we'd stayed holed up in that hotel room. Endless hours were spent enjoying each other physically then I'd shower and go home. I never stayed the night with him, even though I so wanted to, because we both knew if I did we'd cling onto each other again. Our lovemaking was a life raft as it were, keeping our heads just above the surface until we separated.

When I'd come home late in the evening I could tell my parents knew something was wrong. They asked me what the matter was but I hadn't confided in both of them, just my mother. I'd told her that Boston and I were splitting up while I went overseas and she'd said how sorry she was. I didn't say much of anything after that, just that it's what's for the best.

Us separating is for the best. I repeated the words in my head like a mantra, as if trying to convince myself, every single time I'd come home. I'd lay in my bed and remind myself that the tears would fade. The impending doom residing inside the pit of my stomach would surely die out. It had to, right?

Maybe a divorce would be coming later. Maybe not. At this point I have no idea where anything is going. All I know is that by the end of January I will be living in another country. The second Boston and I part tonight I will be single for the first time in four years, regardless of my marital status. That's what we had agreed on.

I still don't quite know how to feel about it, because I feel so many different things. First, and foremost, I feel scared because my future has always revolved around someone else. Whether it was Carter or even Boston, I felt like my future had to meld with theirs. After the things that transpired between Boston and I, I'm beginning to realize that I should go for the future that I want, not what someone else wants. I think it's a good thing I'm going to learn how to be just me and figure out what I truly want, find out who I am and who I want to be.

I'm supposed to meet up with Boston tonight for the last time. I've been dreading the inevitable goodbye between us all day. I could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom much less do anything else. I blow out a deep breath as I grab ahold of my bedroom doorknob but before I can open it, there's a knock.

"Monica?" I open the door, revealing my mother on the other side. "This just came in for you. It's from Boston." She hands me a box and I feel tears prick my eyes. If he sent something to me like this that means he doesn't plan on seeing me tonight.

"Thanks mom." She starts talking but I close the door in her face, not wanting to hear it. I can't hold a proper conversation right now.

I head over to my bed and quickly begin opening the black box tied with a bow in the same color. Inside there's a card on top, my name is scrawled on the top in his familiar hand writing. I begin reading the words and feel myself immediately choke up.