10 December 2012
We stood in the doorway of our apartment, just staring at each other.
His duffle bag was in his left hand, his other hand was holding my own. He was rubbing his thumb over my knuckles, but I didn't feel the sensation that usually caused me to swoon. I was too distraught because he was leaving, and leaving meant that he wasn't going to be with me, safe and sound.
"It's only four months," he said, breaking the heavy silence between us.
I pressed my lips together and managed a curt nod, my eyes watering.
"Don't go," I whispered.
He let go of my hand and cupped my cheek. "I need to, you know that," he said somberly, rubbing his thumb over my bottom lip.
I exhaled and then I was in his arms. He was hugging me tight to his chest. Over his shoulder I saw his duffle bag. It seemed to taunt me, suggesting that it was going with him whereas I had to stay here. Waiting. Worrying.
I bit my tongue, focusing on the pain in a desperate effort not to cry. But the smell of his aftershave upset me even more, so I pushed him away, ushering him out the door.
As he stood on the other side of the doorway, bag in hand, the other one stuffed into the pocket of his military pants, I forced a small smile.
"Be safe," I instructed.
I gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek and then scurried to cross the border back into the apartment.
I was closing the door on his broad back, which was retreating down the hall, when I suddenly called his name.
He stopped and turned about-face, expectantly. I ran to him and jumped into his arms, giving him a kiss that he'll remember during the months that we're apart.
As he set me down, he smiled sweetly. "I'll be back soon." He brushed his knuckles against my cheek.
"I love you," I said earnestly, wanting him to really understand how much I meant it in case he didn't return.
He grinned, his natural dimples sank into his cheeks. "I love you too."
Then he hit the button for the elevator. When the doors slid open, he stepped inside and waved.
I waved back at the military man, who was mine, and prayed for the best.
The Best • Opuss № I