Avi Kaplan: A Collection of Short Stories

Distance

At any given moment in time there was always the likelihood that he was away from you. It wasn't his fault, not really. This was his job, his dream and you weren't going to keep him from that. But your prolonged separations still stung and that all too familiar ache of melancholy always seemed to blossom in your chest whenever he mentioned having to leave.

+++

1,489 miles.

Your phone rings, waking you out of a dead sleep. Bleary eyed, you fumble around the bedside table, fingers finally grasping around the shrieking object. Bringing it sleepily to your ear, you answer, "'ello?"

Avi's voice rings out clear from the other end, your name falling off his mouth like a prayer. A warmth spreads through your chest, accompanied briefly by that pang of loneliness, and you smile into your pillow. "I woke you, didn't I?" he asks.

"S'okay," you mumble, yawning.

"Shit, sorry. I just...needed to hear your voice," he says, a touch of weariness in his tone.

Your whole body aches to touch him, comfort him with the warm embrace of your arms, kiss him with a heated passion. The sensation seems to itch under your skin and you sigh, knowing all you can offer is your words. "You know I never mind, Avi," you say, quietly. "What's bothering you?"

Avi lets out a long, drawn out sigh before tumbling into a cascade of words. You listen silently, offering a few "uh-huh's" and "hmmm's", taking the burden of his thoughts the best way you can. At this point, he'd been gone from you for almost four months and he's hurting.

"I just...I need," he trails off hopelessly, unable to grasp at his words. "I love you."

You smile sadly. "I love you, too."

He talks for a little while longer, his voice lulling you quickly back into sleep and you wake the next morning with your phone still pressed solidly against your ear.

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943 miles.

He calls as you're making dinner and you answer, balancing your phone between your shoulder and ear. "Hello, you."

"Hmm, I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

You wave off his question, shifting your phone to your other ear so you can stir the noodles in the boiling water. "Just making dinner."

"Oh, yeah? Tell me more."

You laugh at his enthusiasm for food and indulge him by listing off all the ingredients you were using to make your pasta dish. His over exaggerated moans fill your ear and you actually shiver despite yourself. "Do I need to give you a moment to yourself there, Avi?"

His low chuckle sends a jolt down your spine. "No, no. I just miss your cooking."

"Soon, right?" you ask, hopeful as you strain the pasta, tossing it with the sauce you'd made.

"I'm coming for you," he promises.

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612 miles.

Setting your book down, you look over towards your phone and then sigh, picking your book back up. You'd done this at least seven times in the last hour, the words before you meaningless and your phone sitting there, black, taunting you.

Two days.

Two days and you hadn't heard from him with the exception of a text that came late in the night: Miss you. Love you.

You knew he was busy. You knew this separation wrenched a hole in his heart just as much as it did yours. You knew sometimes he went a few days without properly calling because he was too busy. You couldn't imagine performing every night for people, giving your all with every fiber of your being and not wanting to collapse immediately after.

You understood.

You still hated it.

Just as you're about to attempt reading for the eighth time, your phone chirps and you almost jump out of your skin. You laugh as you read his text: I lost a bet to Mitch. I have to wear some of his designer clothes as punishment.

Poor baby, you text back, biting your lip as you smile.

Your phone is silent for a few minutes and then: Sorry I've been quiet. Busy. Tired. I miss home. Soon.

He doesn't miss a phone call for the next six days.

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289 miles.

You're out running errands when your phone chirps and glancing down, you smile when you see the FaceTime request. Quickly darting out to your car, you answer, Avi's grin splitting his face when he sees you.

"You are a sight for sore eyes," he says with a content sigh.

"So are you, handsome," you say, offering him a wink.

"I have a list of things I want to do when I get home and half of them involve keeping you in bed." His voice is low and gravely and you squirm, sinking down into your seat.

You hear his laugh at your reaction, darting your gaze out the windows to make sure no one is watching you. "I am in public, Avriel," you hiss.

The corners of his eyes are crinkled in delight, his smile genuine and wide and his laugh the most beautiful thing you've heard in a while. "What?" he asks, incredulous. "I meant like coloring and pillow fights."

You snort. "You're so full of shit."

"I never kid when it comes to coloring," he says seriously, super frowning as he does so.

You roll your eyes and sigh, briefly covering your eyes as you shake your head. Avi's face softens when you look back at him through your cracked fingers and he blows out a breath. You long to reach through the glass of your phone and touch his face, your fingers remembering the scratch of his beard and the warmth of his skin.

"Nine days. Just nine more days."

"I'll be waiting. Just come home to me, Avi."

+++

You're bouncing, unable to contain the nervous and excited energy swirling through your veins. You alternate between twisting your hair, smoothing your jeans against your thighs and picking at the skin around your nails. Scanning the crowd, your eyes dart, searching for him.

You think you spot him before he spots you. Bursting from your seat, you run, dashing around people, muttering soft apologizes under your breath. Avi shrugs his bag higher onto his shoulder before abandoning the mission and shoving the bag at Kevin. He's running now, too and—

fifteen feet—

your breath burns in your lungs, your tears just starting to trail down your cheeks and—

ten feet—

he reaches out for you, grabbing at your shirt as you jump and he catches you, your legs wrapping firmly around his waist, his hands holding you just under your thighs. Avi's face his buried into the curve of your shoulder, your fingers trailing on his neck and you turn his face up to yours. The feel of his beard and skin beneath your fingers burning into your flesh and you mold your lips to his.

He sighs into your mouth and shifts you slightly, grasping you with one hand so the other can tangle into your hair. His 'I love you' is murmured into the soft curve of your upper lip and you smile into his touch, your tears painting his cheeks. Pulling back slightly, his thumb brushes the tears from under your eyes and he kisses you again.

Distance—inseparable.