Page 114 of Unrivaled Love
And my training schedule is not for the meek.
Bryson does the same.
Thankfully when I step out into my bedroom he's already in the kitchen. I think seeing his crestfallen face would be the final shot to my resolve. I hear the blender start and I smile remembering his face when we were accosted by the smell of rotten food. I giggle remembering picking out a new blender with him at the store and how seriously he researched which model would be best. And how on the way home we stopped for ingredients so we could test it out right away.
I'm going to miss having him in my space. I'm going to miss him being here when I get home. I get it now, I understand the appeal of a relationship. The difference maker is the person. Bryson makes me want to create a home, a nest, and spend all day and night with him in it.
I worked harder at practice this week knowing I was coming home to him. That he’d be there to talk with, cook with, chill out with. This apartment is going to be a sad place with him gone.
But, I remind myself as I slip my sweatshirt on, the distance isn't forever. My off season starts in November and I’ll start training with the US Team which is in Maryland, not far from D.C..
And we talked about calling each other and texting.
We'll figure it out. We'll make it work.
We have to.
I roll my shoulders back and take a centering breath. We can do this. I can do this.
In an effort to appear nonchalant and totally cool with what we’re about to do, I lean against my door frame as I watch him in my kitchen.
"You get a good eyeful there, Killer?" He asks as he shakes his butt at me.
"Just trying to remember my favorite part of you."
"My ass?"
"Mhmm."
"Well get over here and grab it!" And with a laugh, I do. He lets me grab my fill for a moment before spinning and pulling my mouth to his.
This kiss is hard and soft all at once. It's light and heavy. It's every opposing feeling in the world but it's especially bittersweet. I feel like we just learned how to be together and now we have to learn how to be apart.
He lets me go and we grab our smoothies. I’m quiet as we leave the apartment.
There’s everything to say but nothing too. We know what we’re walking into. And away from. We know the challenge ahead. Or, we at least know it’ll be a challenge.
I don’t think either of us really understands what we’re trying to do.
When we're seated in the car, I turn to him. "Are you ready to get home?"
"Yes and no. I miss my place. The boys. But I also ran away for a reason and I'm not sure I'm ready to be back in it."
"I get that."
"How'd it feel to get back into your routine this week?" He asks.
"It felt really good. But I also had you to come home to every night which made it even better."
"Yeah, I'm not so lucky." He says to the window.
"Yeah," I agree quietly. The crushing weight of our pain is sharp in my chest.
There is nothing I can do to soothe him and that hurts. There’s nothing he can do for me either. The tough part is coming. We know it. We can’t stop it.
For the rest of the ride I focus on the road. I keep my hands at ten and two so I don't accidentally grab his. As soon as we touch, I’ll cling to him and won’t be able to let go.
When I get to the airport I drive to the departures lane and pull to the curb. If I parked in the lot we'd never separate. This way some security officer is going to come yell at us if we linger too long.
