I nod. “Thanks. You too.” More than you’ll ever know.
“Open it. Let’s see.”
I close my eyes and say a quick silent prayer.
Dear Lord, let Luke and I at least stay together long enough to know if we’re truly meant to be together. Amen.
And then I open the email and scroll down to the country.
My stomach clenches.
“Wow. That’s an interesting country,” Luke says. “I don’t know about it.”
“Yes.” I nod. It’s Spanish-speaking, but it’s definitely not Costa Rica or Mexico.
It’s much, much further away.
It’s not even in this hemisphere.
24
Luke
“Paraguay,” I say. Even just saying the name out loud makes me cringe.
Not because I have anything against the country. I’m sure it’s a great place with great people. I met some Paraguayans when I was living in Buenos Aires and they were awesome.
What makes me cringe is the fact that Paraguay is far, far away from here.
And it’s where Sky will be living for the next two years of her life.
“Paraguay,” she repeats. “Wow. I honestly don’t know that much about Paraguay, besides the fact that it’s right next to Argentina.”
“They speak Guaraní there,” I say. “It’s the only country in South America where the government officially recognizes two languages.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Well you better study up,” I say. I bring my hand around to her thigh and squeeze. “Since it’s going to be home for you pretty soon.”
“Yes.” She nods, the light reflecting off her glasses. “Yes it is. Going to be home.”
I feel a little part inside of me die when she says that. She’s going, and that’s that. I feel my heart breaking.
I didn’t sign up for this hard of a heart break. I signed up to stop Ryan from getting married.
“The reason I called you down here,” I say, not wanting to talk any more about Sky’s Peace Corps service right now.
“Wait. So that’s it? You’re…not going to say anything else about me going there?”
I shrug. “What else is there to say?”
“I don’t know…” She trails off.
“How do you feel about it?”
“I feel like it’s what I’ve always said I wanted.”
“You’ve said that from the beginning.”
“I know.”
“Is something the matter?”
She clears her throat. “No. Nothing. I’m just adjusting mentally and it’s going to take some time.”
“It’s a crazy process. I’m sure I’ll go through a similar thing when I get drafted in June. Who knows which team I’ll be on.”
“You could be in Houston.”
I squint. “Why are you thinking Houston? And yes, sure. I could be there. But I could be anywhere, really. Kansas, Colorado, San Francisco—”
“Washington D.C.,” she interjects.
“Why do you say Washington, D.C.?”
“Oh, just because they have an international airport.” She winks. “And because lots of the jobs returned Peace Corps volunteers get are in Washington, D.C.”
“Oh. I see. Well, yeah, I could be there too, sure.”
I turn toward Skylar on the couch, trying to read the subtext.
Is she saying, maybe there’s a chance we could get back together, without actually saying it?
She’s got a faint smile plastered on her face, her eyes slanting down and away from my gaze. Her brown hair has gotten longer since the winter. I squeeze her thigh and she lets out a quiet, breathy moan.
Either she didn’t get the poem I read her, or she refused to address the meaning I was trying to allude to.
Do you end up with the one you truly love?
Or are we fated to be separated from the one, and unite with them only in death?
I don’t know that you have just one true love in life. At least I never believed it.
Yeats was a wise man and one of the best poets of all time, and he didn’t believe it, either.
Well, I suppose I shouldn’t put words in his mouth. But based on the heartbreak level of his poetry, I’d bet he didn’t end up with his true love.
This time with Sky has made me question everything I thought I knew about love. I always viewed love as something women would give me.
But with Sky I’ve discovered it’s the giving of love that’s the most powerful.
Those moments where I’ve been able to be there for her. Going to the hospital with her. Helping her realize her past relationships don’t define her present or her future.
Even as I foresee my heart shattering as the two of us move on to our respective worlds, I wouldn’t give up the time we’ve had together for anything. Whether Sky knows or not, and whether we say it or not, she’s taught me how to love.
I know what it needs to feel like, now, when I end up with someone I really, truly care about. I know what it’s like to be absolutely obsessed with a woman’s mind and how she operates, and to not just be there for her but to want to be there for her.
I remember overhearing my mom say something to my dad when I was young, before she found out he was cheating. She said to my dad, I know you’re here. I just don’t feel like you WANT to be here.
That never made much sense to me until now.
I want to be with Sky, so badly, but I can’t even tell her.
What, and make this a thousand times harder when we actually have to say good bye?
Or, worse—she’ll cancel her Peace Corps plans and alter her entire life’s course for me? Even if she would do that, I wouldn’t want her to. I could never ask her to change for me. That wouldn’t be right.
Because once she does, that’s not real love any more. That’s dependency, that’s taking away her freedom, and we’d be violating point number one of the definition of love that I told Jennifer.
Maybe the love I feel for her right now is something I can’t fully comprehend until I’m older and wiser. But right now, in this moment, she’s everything. And I want the best for her, even if I understand that’s not with me.
I want her to be happy. I want her to fulfill her life’s purpose.
All the things I can’t say to her.
My lips curve upward in a smile.
I won’t be sad because we’re not together forever. I’ll be happy because we’re here now, and we had what we had.
No, not had. Not yet. What we have. I’ll just enjoy the moment.
“You’re quiet,” Sky says, rubbing my thigh. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“What are you thinking about?”
I swallow. Dear God, if I could tell her the things that were running through my head just now, she’d think I’m completely nuts.
“I’m just thinking about the final stage of Operation Romper,” I lie. “We’ve got to focus. We’ve got to discuss the final stage.”
“The breakup.”
“Yes.” I nonchalantly run my fingers along the flesh of her inner thigh. I can feel the heat the closer I get to her core.