By the end of the year, I could barely sit still. I couldn't focus on Calculus, or History, or even Physics. I would sit in lunch and twist a napkin around my fingers until it was shredded into tiny pieces. After school I would end up at my house, but I never remembered driving home.
There I would look at that huge packet St. John's had sent me, my fingers numb and my brain aching. In a few days, I would think to myself, I'm never going to see him again.
Maybe I'm being overdramatic, but I love Eric. And he's leaving me, two days after graduation. He's not even going to spend the summer with us, with me. He's going to California. He says he wants to get used to it there, before school starts.
I don't understand this. He can't even stay in his dorm room over the summer; he has to stay with relatives. How is that "getting acclimated," as he likes to describe it?
Sometimes I don't even know why he has to go to California. Eric says it's because the University of California has the best forensics program in the country, and is the best place for him. Well, that first part may be true, but how can thousands of miles away from me be the best place for him?
And above all, he wants me to take him to the airport. I know he only wants to see me, but doesn't he understand how much this hurts?

~ two days later~

We sit in the waiting room, on the sticky plastic chairs. I haven't been speaking much, and I think Eric thinks I'm sulking. I'm not. I'm afraid if I open my mouth I'll start to cry, right here, in the middle of the airport.
Eric turns towards me, and takes my hand. From the corner of my sight I can see his eyes, pleading with me to look at him, to understand, to accept. I have accepted, what else can I do?
"Lena," I can hear the pain in his whisper. He stands. "Come with me. I want to show you something."
I allow him to take my hand and lead me through the crowd, until we are standing in a corner, alone. He turns to me, and smiles. I gaze up into his light brown eyes, full of love and compassion, and can't help but return the smile, even though my eyes are welling up with tears.
They spill over, and slide down my cheek, and I reach up, but Eric beats me. With two fingers he gently brushes them away.
"Don't cry," he says, trying to keep his tone light.
Eric reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a jewelry box. He turns it around in his palm, and says, "When I saw this, I thought of you, and how beautiful it would look on you."
He opens it, with a creak and a pop, revealing an antique silver locket. It is on a slightly tarnished chain, and the design is almost Celtic. I gasp. How could he afford this?
"It's a family heirloom. I'm supposed to give it to the first woman I fall in love with," he hesitates, his voice faltering. "And I love you."
Removing it from the case, he slides it around my neck, clasping it with only a touch of effort. I look around wildly; I didn't bring anything for him.
And then I remember the knit bracelet I had made for myself in crafts. I slide it off my wrist, take Eric's hand, and twist it around his ring finger. He smiles, and leans down, kissing me.
The loudspeaker crackles, "Flight number 84 to Sacramento is boarding now."
"I've gotta go," Eric whispers in my ear.
"I know."
He turns, and jogs to the gate. I watch, suddenly content. As he is about to disappear, he turns and looks at me, giving me the smallest of grins. And even though he is leaving me, I know he loves me, and I don't mind that we are thousands of miles apart. It doesn't matter anymore.
He loves me.