Chapter 32

CHAPTER 32

I haven't heard Cole's voice for ten days now. I should just ask him when we can talk, but I've been chicken, not wanting to impose on his time. We've texted back and forth at the end of his day, but I miss his voice. And I know if I hear his voice, I'm going to miss his physical presence even more than I already do. I ache without him around. My brain says I don't have to put up with something in my life that hurts like this, but my heart is saying this is proof that I love Cole.

I've googled quotes about absence and longing and found a particularly poignant one by Comte de Bussy-Rabutin,

"Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it kindles the great."

I think what Cole and I have is "the great." It's big and wild and scary and incredible.

"Okay, so, why are you staring at your lock screen?" asks Jules, a mug in one hand and a silver milk pitcher in the other.

I turn it towards Jules so she can see the picture from Cole's FMF pinning ceremony. "I'm having a hard time."

"Yeah, we noticed, friend. Did you and Cole break up?"

"No," I shake my head. "He's on the east coast for training. For seven weeks."

"Aww, so you're missing him bad, huh? I can imagine missing my boyfriend something fierce for seven weeks."

"He's not my boyfriend."

Jules slams the pitcher on the counter in shock. "HE'S NOT YOUR BOYFRIEND?"

"No."

"Why not, Tia? Why the heck not? Girl, don't fumble that!"

"Well, he's in the Navy?—"

"Tia, wait. Stop for a second. What is happening? I love my boyfriend, I am practically engaged, but I'm not blind. Cole is handsome as hell and worth his weight in gold. Has he ever dropped the ball on you? Like, messed up, cheated, left you hanging or anything? Is there some secret gross fetish I don't know about? Is he actually a shady con man or something?"

"No," I say with a defensive laugh.

"And your main complaint is he's in the Navy?"

"Yeah."

"Because that life is too hard or something?"

"Well, it's…demanding. And it requires sacrifice. I wanted to have independence and build my own life, make my own choices, not twist myself into some version of me that operates around him."

"Tia, who exactly is asking you to do that?"

No one. Cole made it clear when we talked on the beach that he would never ask that of me.

"Well…there's a lot of unknowns." My only rebuttal sounds weak, said out loud.

"Instead of being worried about those unknowns, maybe think of it as the one, big, great unknown, full of exciting things. You two are the cutest little teammates I've ever seen. Think of the adventures you could have, the things you could see. Think of how stable your life would be if you and Cole got together and lived out your passions side by side. It could be the best thing you ever do."

A life with Cole could be the best thing I ever do. Emphasis on the conditional, hypothetical quality of that statement.

Anytime my phone dings, vibrates, or lights up with a notification, I jump to see if it's Cole. It rarely is, but I'm still in a constant state of checking to see if he's texted or called. I've started to resent anyone sending me a funny reel or the DoorDash app letting me know my order was confirmed. I need a project.

I decide to put Cole's gift card to good use and stock up on supplies for my upcoming art intensive. I take an Uber to Luko and Denny's house and pick up the Camaro for a test run before driving it up to Marina Del Ray.

Once I get over the initial anxiety of driving someone else's car, much less Cole's dreamy ride, I grin. I allow for a moment of self-satisfied happiness as the car roars onto the freeway. Bryce who?

After finding all the items on my moderate list, I'm ready to head home and get things organized, get back into a routine of painting for practice. The Camaro makes a worrying squeal when it starts. Oh, no, please not this. Not Murphy's Law. I just want to get home.

The temperamental sky decides to open up and pour down torrential rain as I put the car in drive, the kind of downpour that has the windshield wipers going back and forth at full speed and I still can barely see. Really? This is supposed to be California in September when a late summer hits, not D.C. with its East Coast summer thunderstorms.

My phone is hooked up to the Bluetooth, and the navigation voice keeps shouting directions at me as it takes me on surface streets to avoid traffic. The constant updates keep cutting into what was supposed to be calming classical songs.

Suddenly, the songs stop altogether, and the FaceTime ring tone blares through the car. I check who's calling and my heart leaps. It's Cole, now known as "Osito" in my contacts. I hurry to try to answer it, but I can't really focus on looking at the phone in the middle of the rain.

"Hey, hi!" I say loudly, doing my best to sound positive and happy.

"Hello?" says a voice that's definitely Cole's, but garbled and chopped up. I glance down at the screen and see a pixelated mess of camouflage. "Hello? Tia?"

"Hi, can you hear me?" I yell, looking around for a place to pull over.

"Tia? You there?"

"Cole, your connection isn't great," I shout, every nerve pinging with overload.

"I can't hear you at all."

I swear under my breath, remembering the Bluetooth can be finicky. "Hang on, I'm going to pull over and fix it," I say loudly.

"I don't ha…ton…time, just want…ay hi…quick."

"Hang on!"

I finally spy a strip mall to my right and cut through a lane of traffic to pull over. I try to hit the Bluetooth button and swipe and turn it off, and when I go back to the screen with the call on it, Cole's face comes through clearly for half a second. I nearly cry with happiness and relief to see his handsome smile and his tired eyes. My love, my heart. He waves, and the call drops.

In a daze, I put the car in park and unbuckle my seat belt. No, that did not just happen. I grab my phone and try to call him back over and over, each time getting an error message about no connection. Hot tears fall down my face. I want to talk to him—I need to talk to him. I miss him so much. Stupid cell reception. Just one minute—that's all I ask. Is that too much?

When I finally walk into the house audibly crying, Aunt Mari rushes to my side in alarm.

" ?Qué pasó, Christiana? "

"I miss Cole. And it's really hard. And I don't want to feel this awful. I want him home."

"Okay, we'll fix this," she says, with a sense of urgency. "I'll make empanadas and we'll watch a movie. Here, have some wine." She pushes her glass into my hand. "I think you're having a hard time being in love."

"I am," I say through my sobs.

"Oh, ni?a preciosa, mi corazón ."

Tia

Can we FaceTime tonight?

I finally text Cole my request the next day, once I figure he's out of class. I don't know if he's super overwhelmed with his training, or if he's trying to give me space, but either way, I'm over it.

Osito

Yeah. Can you send me a picture of whatever you're up to right now?

I'm in a paint-splattered black t-shirt, my hair piled on top of my head in a messy bun, no makeup, my gold hoop earrings the only redeeming accessory. But I pull out my phone and snap a selfie with me in the foreground smiling, my easel behind me holding a portrait of Aunt Mari halfway done. I send it.

Osito

*swearing emoji* I miss you.

Tia

I need one of you.

It takes a minute, but he sends a picture of him staring down into the camera, in uniform, with a cheeky little grin, looking ridiculously sexy and adorable at the same time. He kills me.

Tia

Miss you so bad. Call me tonight?

Osito

You got it, Queenie.

I sit cross-legged on the bed as my stomach flutters full of butterflies and my heart pounds. He said he'd call at five my time, and right on the dot the phone lights up with an incoming FaceTime.

"Hi!" I say suddenly and loudly as Cole's video comes online. Holy crap, there he is, standing in his uniform pants and black belt, olive green T-shirt, and his usual short pale hair. Does absence make the heart grow fonder, and your love interest sexier? I wouldn't be surprised if there were cartoon hearts pouring out of my eyes right now.

He adjusts the camera on his end. "Hey, Tia. Is the video all right, is it working?"

"Yeah, it's just small."

"Oh, are you on your phone? I'm on my laptop. Wanted to see your face as big as I could."

Stop it. He is too cute. I turn my phone sideways, and he takes up more of the screen now. He looks good—healthy but tired, handsome but drained. He pulls up a chair and sits down, leaning forward towards the camera.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Um…" he says, rubbing his eyes, "I have seen more blood this past week than I have in my entire life. A lot of bones and stitches too. It's the real deal. We're assisting in the trauma bays to help prepare us for battlefield-type injuries and it is…gnarly. Definitely not just temp checks and handing out Motrin. I am learning a ton, though." A yawn cuts him off. "Sorry, it's a lot of high-adrenaline and learning, and then I crash at the end of the day. Sorry I haven't called more."

I do my best to be understanding, given what he's just told me. I imagine the way he responded to my stingray incident but ramped up to one hundred times the intensity. "Don't worry," I say, "I've been busy in my own way too. Guess what?"

"What?"

"Lorraine has this friend who's this renowned portrait artist and teacher, and she does these special workshops out of her studio, and long story short, I'm going to an exclusive artist intensive in Marina Del Rey, for a week."

"What?!" Cole shouts with a massive smile taking over his face. "That's awesome! That's amazing. And you're just going to, like, learn and paint for a week?"

"Yeah, I got the time off work, and I got a scholarship to pay for the residency portion, and I get to focus on getting better at portraits and exploring new ways to express my style."

"Tia, that is awesome!" Cole says, the smile never leaving his lips. "I'm so excited for you."

"I'm nervous. I think it's going to be great, but it's also going to be really intense. I leave in two weeks."

"You're going to do great. Listen to the kindest voice in your head—you're going to do so well."

I can't stop looking at him, a grin permanently etched on my face.

"What else are you up to?" he asks.

"Anisha is thrilled I'm a TDY widow right now—her words, not mine. She and Sarah are going to come over next week and we're going to have a wine and paint night and some girl chat."

"That sounds really fun. I bet they'll love it."

My cheeks hurt from smiling. I thought FaceTime would be a poor substitute for real-life conversation with Cole, but it's surprising how refreshing it is to see him and hear him at the same time.

"Do you have studying you have to do? Anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, yeah, we do have some stuff we'll be tested on but it's nothing like studying for the FMF pin. I'll be fine. Um, but I did want to talk about something I've been thinking about in random little moments of time."

He sits up straighter, squaring his shoulders, and his tone becomes more serious as he talks. "I think I need to take some time to myself. Not in a selfish way, more like, I need to stop avoiding the things I need to deal with on my own. Like, I need to be okay being by myself and being just me. I was reading about contentment as the antidote to relationship insecurities and I realized I need to learn to be content on my own, with my own life, whether or not you decide you want to be a part of it."

I don't know how to respond to that. It makes sense, he's not wrong, but it feels like he's taking a step back. Fear wraps around my throat and chokes me. What if I'm not the one that ends us? What if I run out of time with him?

He continues, "When I first got here, I was having really bad anxiety, like not sleeping and my heart would start pounding and my breath would get short whenever I thought about you potentially walking away. It was out of control. I don't want to be like this obsessed, possessive person that haunts you until you say yes. I'm starting to feel better about being okay with whichever way things fall now, but I think the best thing I can do is focus on myself for a bit. So, what if we decided to do that for the rest of HMTT, take time for ourselves and not talk until I get back?"

Wait, what? That was not what I was expecting. How is that his conclusion?

"Not talk for five weeks?" I ask, my voice cracking as I rub one hand over my eyes.

"Oh, I didn't mean to upset you," he says, his voice softening. "I thought you might be on board."

"I'm not crying," I say with a rueful laugh. "I'm just shocked. Five weeks, no contact?"

"Yeah?"

"That's ridiculous."

He blinks. "Why?"

I splutter, waving my hand in the air as I try to piece my words together. "Do you know how much I live for a notification from you? For a text, a GIF, an emoji, anything. I freakin' miss you so bad, I am holding on by a thread, the only thing that keeps me going is hearing from you. I hate being apart."

He hesitates, biting his lip.

"Cole, I think it's a bad idea."

"But what if it was real life? What if I was deployed to a place with no reception, no internet, and the only way I could communicate with you was through letters?"

"You're going to put me through some little deployment simulation? Is this a test?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. I'm saying I need this, I need to grow, I need to be okay just being me."

It's as if my worst nightmare has come to life. The man I love, taken away from me by the Navy, and all channels of communication cut off.

"For the record, I do not support this plan. You told me you wouldn't do this. We've barely hit a comfort zone of making this work."

"But isn't that how we grow, by making ourselves uncomfortable and then adapting and overcoming?"

I roll my eyes in disbelief. "Please. You have one thoughtful internal monologue and now you're all hot and insightful."

He laughs, a sexy, deep chuckle that makes my heart squeeze with longing. His absence really is making my heart want him more and more. There's no way I'm letting him make a unilateral decision for us.

"You understand you're gambling here? You're betting on me being willing to put up with five weeks of not talking to you?"

"I'm betting on you being stronger than you give yourself credit for."

"Cole…how long have you been thinking about this?" I ask.

"Like, a week."

"Have you run it by any of your friends?"

He shakes his head no.

"I don't think it's a good idea and I am positive Luko and Denny would say the same thing."

He runs his hand over his hair, waiting for my verdict. "Please? I may be making a mistake, but can we try?"

I bite my lip and study his expression. "Starting now?"

"No, starting tomorrow."

I groan. "I hate that I like you enough to say yes to this." I love him, but now is not the time and over FaceTime is not the place to say it. "I hope you get what you're looking for."

He nods. "Thank you. I know this isn't what you were expecting."

Understatement. I'm biting back some choice words and I'm sure he can tell by my silence.

"I'm sorry for being a wet blanket."

Again, understatement.

"Can we talk about something else now? It's a Friday night, I'm free for the rest of the night. My favorite comfort movie is Pacific Rim ."

He offers up that piece of information and I know I have a choice to either smack it down in anger or keep up a little volley until we reach a point of easing back into conversation.

"Mine is Mulan ."

Cole grins. "Do you think that played into you honoring your father's wishes to not study art?"

"Cole Stephen Slaeden," I say, my eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets as he chuckles. "Don't get me started on why you probably like Pacific Rim."

"You'd probably be right," he says. "What else is your comfort go-to?"

We talk for hours, keeping Cole up way too late. We talk about anything and everything, from childhood memories to stories from the coffee shop or from when Cole was in boot camp. We laugh and stare at each other longingly and I wish there was a way to send a kiss through a computer screen. When we finally start to say our goodbyes, I'm snuggled in bed, Cole propped up against the pillow next to me.

"I should let you go to bed," I say.

Just like when he left, the goodbye is hitting me way harder than I thought it would. Five weeks of not talking is stupid and unnecessary and I don't know if I'll survive. Tears fill my eyes and drop down my cheeks as I stare at the screen, memorizing for the millionth time every curve and corner of his face. I'll have to go paint it from memory tomorrow. He is my eternal fixation.

"You're really going to leave me by myself and not talk to me for five weeks?"

He sighs, then nods. "Next time we talk, it's going to be in the airport, face to face, after I've kissed you senseless."

When I wake up, I find one more notification from Cole—a text message with a link and a heart emoji. I snuggle into my covers and tap the link. The webpage opens to reveal "Endymion," a poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I gasp—he sent me a poem as a final sign-off. The moving stanzas and the thought of Cole picking this out make me feel like I'm both anchored and flying.

…like Dian's kiss, unasked, unsought

Love gives itself, but is not bought;

Her voice, nor sound betrays

its deep, impassioned gaze.

It comes, —the beautiful, the free,

the crown of all humanity,—

in silence and alone

to seek the elected one…