32. JACK

The next day was our last full day in London. The day after that, Paul and I would board separate flights bound for home, him going straight to New York, me to Chicago. We would be leaving behind whatever we had had here. But we knew that all along. Now, it seemed like we were going our separate ways.

The fleeting moment of happiness we had shared together in London seemed to have passed. The prospect of our parting filled me with a profound sadness, the sense that some things had been said or felt that hadn’t needed to be but, once revealed, could not be put away again.

I had never told him I loved him. I had barely had the chance to, and yet now, in the confines of our apartment, as the air crackled with tension, I grew aware of the love that I had not allowed to happen.

Paul and I moved through the space like strangers, and he retreated to the bedroom to read his book or check his phone whenever we were together.

“Are you not speaking to me now?” I wanted to ask.

But what if he answered: “You broke my heart”? Or what if he answered: “You’re not the person I thought you were?”

Once, I tried to say to him: “Paul… Speak to me…”

But it was never welcomed, and so I receded to that place that has been such a feature of my life: I said nothing. I closed up when he had been the person to whom I had wanted to be open.

***

In the bustling London office, amid the ceaselessness of work activity, I watched as Paul engaged in animated conversation with his friends, William and Laura. I watched how alive he seemed and heard how his laughter rang out as if he felt nothing at all about what had happened. Yet I was miserable now.

From afar, I watched Paul engage in lively banter as William made jokes, and he responded. I saw Laura telling a funny story, waving her arms around, and him giggling as she did it.

Then he turned and looked at me, and I saw the hollowness in his eyes. The smile on his lips froze for a moment. The weight of our emotions hung in the air between us. Then his smile faded, and his blue eyes grew round, and he turned away from me.

***

That last full day, I found myself adrift in a sea of work commitments, a lunch, an on-site client meeting, and then a drinks gathering at a big corporation in the City of London in the evening.

The whole time, my thoughts were consumed by the specter of our separation. Each moment, some image of Paul hovered at the edge of my consciousness. I wondered what he was doing and what he was thinking. Was he thinking of me? He probably was, but what was he thinking?

Good things or bad?

***

Leaving my evening event, I wandered the busy nighttime streets of London for a while, unsure what it would be like to go back to the apartment on Tottenham Street. As I walked, I received texts on my phone. They were from Emma, who said she was looking forward to seeing me. Weakly, I responded with a thumbs-up.

A thumbs-up? Is that what marriage becomes? I didn’t want a thumbs-up. I wanted love – an enormous, satisfying, sexual love.

I wanted Paul. I needed to tell him that. I needed to commit to him.

***

Eventually, I got back to Tottenham Street. As I entered the familiar space of our apartment, I called his name.

“Paul?”

There was no reply.

“Paul?”

Again, nothing.

I walked through the living room. Everything looked so very neat, as if no one had been staying there at all. The book he had been reading and the odd things he had brought with him were not there. I walked into the bedroom and found the bed made, the covers hotel-crisp. This was the work of the maid, not Paul, who couldn’t have gotten a sheet that neat if his life depended on it.

I went into the dressing room and realized what had happened: all his clothes were gone.

He had left.

With trembling hands, I reached for my phone to text him. But as I did so, I saw the screen illuminating a message from Emma.

Hope all is OK, Jack

Hope u are looking forward to seeing me too

It was Paul I wanted. It was Paul who offered my future, and now, he was gone.

I began to type:

I am flying tomorrow – I will see you soon

To this, she replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

***

I put my phone back in my pocket and sat on the edge of the bed – what had been our bed – as my eyes roved around the room. Only slowly did I notice a pair of socks abandoned on the floor, swept right up against the base of the bed so that they were not easily seen.

A wave of remorse washed over me. I got up and walked back out into the living room. Only then did I see it, a note crisply folded by the Nespresso machine. I went to read it.

Jack—

William said I could stay at his place tonight on his couch. We are just going to hang out, and then I can see you in the morning at work, maybe if you are around.

I hope you understand why I had to make this decision. Things have become too complicated, and I need some time to clear my head before we go back to the States.

Please don’t worry. All is cool.

My eyes lingered on the note, reading the words once, twice more. With a sigh, I folded it neatly and placed it back on the kitchen counter.

Pulling out my phone, I went to my messages.

Paul, you should come back

Paul, tell me William’s address, and I will come and get you

Paul, I love you

I sent the messages, but only one tick was showing. I waited and waited, and the second never appeared.

He had blocked me.