The Apple of My Eye

Every Time We Say Goodbye

With five days to go until Christmas, and one and a half days to spend in each other's company before Star took off to spend the holidays with her parents, we were resolute to do the best we could with what little time we had. On Monday, right after work, we'd be going to this nice hotel in the area so we could spend the night together before the ten days we were going to have to spend apart. It was the first time we'd be sharing a bed again ever since our ethereal weekend from a couple of weeks before. We didn't talk about the possibility that this night might very well be the night when we would have sex for the first time, but I had a distinct feeling this was it. On top of it, no pun intended, I loved the fact that it had been Star's idea to spend the night with me before she left town the next day. It only confirmed, as if confirmation was still pending, that this girl was just as nuts about me as I was about her.

Preparations had to be made, naturally. I was not going to be able to go home to Victoria that night, so I had to call her mom and break the news. Let's just say it wasn't easy. Actually, it was the farthest thing from easy. Apparently Chloe had made plans of her own, and they included me. She had intended for my parents to take care of our daughter for the night so she and I could do "something or other" together. She had wanted to surprise me, and, well, her timing could not have been more off. When I told her I had also made plans, and that my plans prevented me from spending the night in my apartment, even over the phone I could sense her heart breaking. She knew her little project had just flopped miserably. Yet she demanded to know what my plans were, as if they weren't clear enough for all the world to see. I abstained from hurting her further, and simply lied, "I'm going out with some of the guys from work, and God knows what time we'll call it a night. I figured it would just be more practical to sleep in a hotel or something." It was a ridiculous pretext and I knew it, but I simply could not bring myself to tell her the truth, to tell her the real reason why I would be sleeping away from my daughter that night.

When we finally hung up I felt guilt-ridden but relieved. How I wished the woman would simply get over me already and move on with her life. But still, how it hurt to know that she loved me all the same, perhaps even more intensely now. How it hurt to know that she was in pain, and that her pain was my doing. Sometimes I wished she would cross the proverbial fine line between love and hate and would just start to hate me altogether. I wanted her to call me names, to treat me bad, to hang up on me all mad in the middle of our phone conversations. At least then I could get mad too and go on about my day without that tormenting sensation that there was someone in the world who loved me so much and who hurt so much because I didn't love her back like I once had.

As soon as those thoughts waned, though, I called Star on Skype for the umpteenth time that day to talk about our plans. I was excited about the prospect of spending another night in her company. And as the hour drew near, a rush of euphoria overtook me and I could barely concentrate on my work. I too would be going on a ten-day break, effective the following day, so there was an overall feeling of well-being in the air, what with little gifts being exchanged, people wishing one another Merry Christmas, and all that.

Good old Michelle—remember her?—had walked into my office that night to say goodbye to me for the very last time. She would not be returning the next day or the next year as her notice had finally come to an end that very day. I was busy talking to people so I couldn't give her much more attention than simply look at her with eyes that said, "I wish I could talk to you but I'm kind of busy here." She understood and gestured that she'd be waiting downstairs to give me one last kiss and wish me a Merry Christmas and a happy new life. That was to be expected, I assumed, and I would have liked that too, if only for sentimental reasons—I hate goodbyes, but Michelle had had a distinguished role in this story and I could not just let her go without a proper hug and a kiss. Even so, I couldn't help thinking that Star, who would be waiting for me downstairs as well, looking forward to our anticipated night of love, would compulsorily make the hug and kiss an impracticality. And no, I did not, for the life of me, want to risk things getting ruined or in any way put in jeopardy with my new girlfriend—least of all for a last hug and kiss from Michelle, from whom, let's face it, I had gotten more than my fair share of hugs and kisses and all sorts of things.