Chris came over because he was about to leave for a work trip for a couple weeks. Totally normal.
He seemed a little tired and/or sad when he arrived. I never know how to take those kinds of emotions. I feel like I can't tell if something is actually wrong with someone, or if my anxiety is just telling me something is wrong.
I sat down on the couch next to him, and held him.
"I had a stinky day. I...knocked the side mirror off of my car." I admitted, and started to get a little teary, because I felt so dumb for doing that. I had been thinking all day of a good lie to make it not my fault, but I knew that wasn't what I should do. (I just hate being bad at stuff he's really good at - like driving - because I don't want him to think I'm stupid. He wouldn't ever think that, anxiety brain!)
I don't really remember what he said in response, but he was quiet for a while. I kissed his cheek.
"Are you okay?"
"What's wrong?" I leaned back. I already had a bubble in my throat.
"I have to move to Knoxville."
"Oh..." I started to cry. Not hard, just a little.
"Sorry," I apologized for getting tears on him. "I know we've talked about you maybe being transferred to Seattle [or New York City] before, but this is...a surprise. When did you find out?"
"When I was there [these past two weeks]."
"They told me it would always be a possibility..." he started, and then was silent for a bit again.
I was scared of the answer because of the way he was acting, but I had to ask anyway: "So...do you want me to come up there with you eventually?"
"That's what we need to talk about..."
Okay, so there went my REAL tears.
Oh God, I'm awful. I'm gasping and screaming and whining and barely breathing. (I'm sure the neighbors thought someone was getting tortured inside my apartment. It was bad.)
"I still feel the same as I did a couple months ago..." he began to get upset, too.
(Note: when he broke up with me about the spark two months ago, he came back two days later and said he'd made a mistake. We had a great talk and I felt good about everything.)
I went into the bathroom to wash off all my makeup, only because it was becoming a runny mess on my face. I could cry easier now.
He got me tissues and a trash can, and stayed for a while.
When I could talk, we talked. When I needed to cry, he held me. When I got tired and rested my forehead on his, he wiped the single tear from my cheek.
"Everything's going to be different," I said, my voice muffled by how deep my face was now buried in his chest.
"I know, babe," he said, and started to cry.
I didn't want him to leave, ever. I had plans with him.
We had looked at houses, balanced our budgets together, discussed future travel plans...
Now everything in front of me has been erased.
I'm my own person. I have wonderful friends and a career and hobbies and my own place. But, what do I DO now...?
Walking to my empty apartment: "He's not here..."
Sitting at work: "I can't text him..."
Trying to make plans: "I can't make them with him..."
Driving to meet friends: "That's where he lives..."
Watching TV: "Chris was supposed to finish this show with me..."
I just wish I felt like he felt. I want to understand.
And maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad.