"I'll call you before my flight"

That was the Friday before he left for New Zealand. My days paced by, a leisurely Saturday stroll. Never before visited, and it was entirely for work. My homeland, and I couldn’t even take him to my favourite little corners. By Sunday, I couldn’t show him my people, let him breathe my air. But at least he’d call, and at least we’d talk about meetings and management, and the small moments in-between where he’d sneak off for a puff or I’d sit down for a coffee. Eventually, it didn’t matter anyway. He’d find himself swallowed by a ticking schedule, each day closed off from the next.

Have you ever felt a vibration in your pocket? Ever seen a flash of light across that screen. Every “vrrb vrrb” draws your entire breath away, leaving your shrivelling chest gasping.

Breathe.

Have you ever dreamt of falling, where your legs stretch before you and the blood floods to your head and the horrible, wrenching realisation that there is nothing and no one behind you but open space, arms flailing, reaching, beckoning. And that sinking, crushing feeling from the belly of the beast asking you to choke back the hope you thought you had glimpsed. Sure you had glimpsed, as sure as the vibration that rattled your pocket. But like that dream, you awoke to nothing. You heard nothing and you had felt, nothing. Each time the little child tugged at your shirt, pulling your heart this way, and that. Ripping. Until he’s torn free and you are left, waiting. Still wanting. Vomit arises in the back of your throat, and you swallow down your own torn reflection. Because eventually, it all tastes the same anyway. Puke, saliva, and tears should you find yourself weeping. It all slides back to the same place. All arises from somewhere dark and hollowed.

We’d finally done it. What we had always spoken about, planned, brainstormed and nattled over. We were going to finish it together, we said. Time never works that way. Days swallowed words, the clock rushed moments and soon only I sat in a space too large for one pea. But he was always with me, always a part of my success, and I his. And finally, we’d done it. So I showed him the final product, put my love in every message. And awaited my vrrb vrrb. A day went by, and he’d laughed. A day went by, and he’d reacted. A day went by, but he hadn’t reached back. A day went by, and the silence became as loud as the black screen looking back at me. A day had gone by, and then another.

Boiling the jug was our thing for each other. Playing music to brighten a heavily hung room. We’re In This Together – Nine Inch Nails became the icebreaker. But I’d already returned his speaker.