A solitary tear rolls down my cheek as I look through the huge glass window, watching the aeroplane take off and feeling so alone, I could choke on my melancholy. The love of my life has just left me, left me standing alone in the airport with nothing but my tears for company. Left me to go back to our home alone, sit on the sofa and wish he was there. How did it come to this?
I can’t help but look at him all the time, watch him surreptitiously as he sits cross-legged on the sofa and reads the early Anais Nin I bought him a month ago. I don’t even know if he likes it, he just reads it silently and smiles enigmatically. He reminds me of a silent movie star, his dark brow constantly furrowed, a vague smile on his perfectly curved lips and a glint of something secretive in those deep brown eyes; something almost magical. He always wears the same battered leather jacket, rain or shine; it shrouds him in mystery and gives him the air of a rock star. I love the feel of it beneath my fingers, the worn creases of the shoulders and elbows. I love the concentration on his face as he tries to watch television or listen to the radio, I can’t understand why he bothers but I love him for it. I love it when he tries to speak to me in English, his lips and tongue slowly forming each word with care and over-precision. He mouths them onto my skin, whispering ‘I love you’ to the curve of my back, ‘I need you’ to the hollow of my collarbone.

He liked my friends, that much was obvious. He told me they were loud and obnoxious and perfect, it was an apt description. Their often drunk attempts to recall GCSE French was a great source of amusement as was my shockingly awful translation skills. He sometimes mentioned his own friends; Selene, Didier, Vincent, some I had met and others I had only heard about. He never once said that he missed them, only ever telling stories and reminiscing. Eight weeks. It doesn’t sound like a long time but when you’re in a different country, away from family and friends and anyone who speaks your language, it can feel like a lifetime.

I wish I could say that his announcement came from nowhere, that I was shocked and appalled at his suggestion but I wasn’t. His trademark stoicism was crossing the boundaries into awkward silence. He had learned a little English and would recite it to me in bed before pulling me closer but now, he only ever said ‘I love you’. It should have been enough.

It wasn’t.

The thought of being without him was abhorrent to me. And that was when I realised, I wasn’t living the fantasy anymore, he wasn’t some holiday romance I had brought home hoping to retain the feeling of summer. He was the man I loved, the man I wanted to be with no matter what. So, now it was my turn, my turn to leave everyone behind and head off to a whole different country, speaking the language would probably bridge more gaps but it was still a world away. A whole new world away. Did I love him enough to say ‘au revoir’ to Britain? Was I really sure that I wasn’t living a fantasy life with my French lover? Was I ready to take that chance?

We didn’t discuss it for another week. Neither of us brought it up, no mention of it at all and then, one morning, it felt as though the whole world was crashing down around me. He leaned across the bed; enveloping me in his strong arms and making me feel like a giddy schoolgirl. He kissed my forehead and held me close, I knew what was coming. It was time to open Pandora’s Box and raise those questions all over again.

“Je pense c'est le temps pour moi rentrer,” he said, so simple and elegant yet so utterly heartbreaking. “Je vais cette semaine,”

“Je veux que vous soit resté,” I sighed softly, tears already welling up in my eyes. “Mais je sais que ne vous ferez pas,”

“M'est fourni avec. Vous aimez la France, vous étiez heureux là-bas. Juste oublier de cet endroit et m'est fourni avec,” he smiled, nestling his face into my neck. I closed my eyes against the world, knowing that my time was up. Avoidance tactics had proven useless and now I had to make a decision. A real decision that would affect the rest of my life. It was a simple choice, give up my entire life to chase rainbows in France or let him go, live without him, visit occasionally but never truly have him again. He grabbed my hand in his suddenly and pressed his lips hard against mine, drowning me in kisses. But I loved the breathlessness and he knew it, when he finally moved back, all I could think about was how much I loved him. I had never been so in love, I felt crazy and wild and without a care.

”Je t’aime,” I grinned. “Je veux aller avec vous, Je veux être avec vous à jamais,” Just seeing the magic sparkle in his eyes made everything feel perfect. It felt like the right decision, like the only option. My family would understand, they were used to my more random activities, my friends would be sad but secretly jealous and visit all the time. Everything would be fine.

“I love you,” he breathed into my tangled hair and I laughed out loud. The world was changing but it was somehow still the same; it always came back to lying in each other’s arms, kisses, cuddles. It always came back to ‘I love you’.
And now, I sit alone on our sofa in our home, tears staining my cheeks and wondering where he was, what he was doing. There were a million and one things I had to tell him, a million and one things he didn’t know. I missed his eyes, I missed his leather jacket, I missed his broken English speaking to me in the dead of night. I glanced across at the coffee table and was stunned to see Anais Nin staring back at me, I thought he had packed her away for the flight but it was still here. I grabbed it and flicked through the pages, only half understanding the archaic French language. It was the final straw, it was the sign I needed to just leave.

I called my parents, I called my close friends and I called Air France. I would have to come back and organise my scattered life at some point so I only packed the bare essentials, including Anais Nin and stepped out of my front door. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing but I didn’t care. I was being washed away with romance and love and all those soppy things I never believed in.

I felt as though I were on the outer rim of a hurricane, being twirled and twirled without a clue where I was or how I had got there and when I stepped out onto the rain-soaked streets of Paris, panic set in. I knew where he lived but I had never been out without him before, I didn’t even know if my French was as good as he said it was. I hailed a taxi down and climbed in; over-pronouncing the name of his street but the driver smiled knowingly and sped off through the capital. I wondered how long he had been home; my flight was only a few hours after his. Would he have even started unpacking? Would he even be home? Maybe he had hit the town with Didier or Vincent the second he had landed?

The building looked taller than I remembered; it had only been two and a half months since I had lived there myself. Holed up in a tiny flat with him, living much the way we had in Britain. Standing here now, I didn’t know what I had been so afraid of. I rang the buzzer that declared his name to the world and waited for the click and the sound of his voice.

“Oui?” he said, his voice muffled by electronics. I smiled to myself, I had only been without that voice for a couple of hours but they had felt like the world.

“Bonjour,” I grinned and I heard him laugh out loud. His voice had gone but I could hear him running down the stairs inside the building to open the front door. He came flying through them and gathered me up in his arms, spinning me in circles until we were both dizzy and kissing me deeply until we were both breathless. “Je vous ai manqué,”

“Mon Dieu, je t’aime,” he laughed. “Je vous ai manqué aussi,”

“Je pense que je suis enceinte,” I laughed, a little too loud but his eyes told me the entire story the way they always did and as he smiled broadly and held me close, I knew everything was going to be okay.

“I love you,” he whispered into my neck and I laughed out loud. The world was changing but it was somehow still the same; it always came back to the two of us, to kisses and cuddles. It always came back to ‘I love you’.

FIN