The Imaginary Life

Out Of The Blue

If not now, then when?

Tonight I could stand it no longer, and before going to bed, I took to the skies on my bed, flew over to your house, and turned up out of the blue. I snuck in through your window, touched down in your living room, and sat back to see what you were up to.

You got up from the sofa, put some music on your iPad, lit a cigarette, and went to the kitchen to fix yourself a drink. I smiled. Your habits haven't changed much since you were with me; that much is clear. On your return from the kitchen, you headed over to the table with the laptop, keyed in your password, pulled up a stool, and took out one of your notebooks from the drawer. I remained very still on my bed, observing you while barely making a sound, and once you were fully immersed in your drawings, I began to speak.

I told you that I've spent these past four months fighting with everyone, trying to explain that I know that you love me even though you aren't with me. Four months of putting up with everyone telling me that what you said that evening was nothing but a cheap excuse because no one leaves his partner when he loves them and that since you had no idea what to say, that was the best you could come up with. No one believes you, Alberto. I'm the only one.

"Beto," I said, hoisting myself up on to my knees, "I'm going to tell you something I haven't told anyone until now that will put your mind at ease: it's my fault.

It's my fault you left. You were right when you told me that things weren't what they used to be. This last year has been really hard for both of us, because I started at the ad agency and I know everything changed after that. The job was a breath of fresh air, a place full of people with whom I had plenty in common and where I didn't mind spending hours and hours because I enjoyed what I was doing.... When I think of all the times you called me to see if we could meet up for dinner and I said probably not, because I had no idea what time I would finish up, I break down and cry. How I'd love to wipe the slate clean of all those probably not s and replace them with "make a reservation at ten, wherever." Surely I would have been able to make it anywhere at ten.

You turned around all of a sudden and I was startled. I thought that perhaps you'd seen me. You checked the time on the clock on the wall, hugged yourself as if you were cold, and stood up. You closed the window in the corridor, changed the music on your iPad, and returned to your seat to carry on as before. I did likewise.

"And then you started to do the same, Beto. You stopped asking me what time I left work and started coming home later than me. Sometimes very, very late, almost as the sun was rising. At first I would stay up waiting for you, but in the end I was so tired that I'd go to bed, and by the time you got in, I'd already be half-asleep. You'd come in, undress very slowly, and before switching off the bedside lamp, you'd tell me in a whisper how tired you were and how hard your day had been. You'd kiss me and turn over. I'd say nothing because I too wanted you to turn over so we could both sleep until the alarm went off the next morning. There'd be plenty of time to go out for a meal, to make love, to get to know each other again. What difference would one night more or less make? I loved you just the same. Or more. I loved you more. But even so, what the hell! There are still certain things that don't add up. Why didn't you tell me that you felt alone? Why, if you felt so sad, didn't you tell me earlier when there was still time to fix it? I don't understand why you didn't sit me down one evening and say, "Nata, this is how I'm feeling," or "Nata, I don't know what's wrong with me," or "Nata, there's something wrong with us. Something's wrong with us, and I want to talk about it." You never said anything. After we fought we'd hug each other, beg each other for forgiveness, and tell each other that, come what may, nothing was more important than the two of us ... That's why I wasn't worried. I told you I miss you like crazy. I miss you deeply, and I want us to get back together because I can't stand being without you. These months in which I no longer live in your loft and have had to return to my apartment have been the saddest months of my whole life. And now that I've taken in everything that's happened to us, I understand that I pushed you to one side, and I'm ready to make a fresh start. I never want you to feel alone again. And if time is what you need, don't you worry—I will wait for you.

"I promise you, my love. I promise I'll wait for you."

"My love." I, too, called you my love. All of a sudden, I was cut short by the sound of your phone. You stopped drawing, pushed your stool back from the table, got up, and headed toward the arm of the sofa, where your phone lay. You picked up the receiver, and I couldn't make out who you were talking to, because you didn't say anyone's name, but rather simply, "Hey, how'd it go?" It must have been someone from work, so I decided it would be best if I left. I didn't want you to catch me out in my pajamas in the middle of your living room, with the rumpled bed sheets all over the place.

On the flight home, I put on that record you bought me with the songs we had made our own. I played it on an endless loop, over and over, again and again. Back in my bedroom, I took out all our photos and the albums of our travels and pored over them with the music on in the background until I could no longer be sure whether I was enjoying the record or it was killing me—the latter probably. "Hey, how'd it go?" Hey.

Hey. "Hey, how'd it go?" It was almost midnight when your phone rang. I can't breathe.

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Fourth Chapter done!! Hope you're all enjoying this as much as I do writing it thanks again!!