Author's Note: Thank you all for your support and encouragement. I apologize for the delay; this was a particularly painful chapter to write, and it was important for me to get it right. Hope it begins to answer some of your questions.
Thought of you, and where you'd gone
And the world spins madly on
Naomi, forever ago
You walk up to your front door just before 9pm, arriving home later than usual from your clinical placement. You've been assigned to do counseling at a women's shelter, and the constant stream of walk-ins and emergencies are taking a toll. You've become angry (or rather, angrier) at the injustice of the world, and this is what you attribute to your recent sensitivity to—well—everything.
You unlock the door, only to find it empty and in complete darkness. You pull your phone out from your bag, wondering if you missed a text from Emily. Nothing. You call her mobile, and after a few rings, it goes straight to voicemail. A message pops up.
Hey babe, got called in for an extra shift. Won't be home til late. Xoxo
You roll your eyes, because this is not what you were expecting tonight. Emily promised a night at home with wine and a home cooked meal. She had recently taken a bartending job for extra cash to buy better camera equipment, a position that was only supposed to be part-time and temporary. Now, she works most weeknights on top of photography gigs all weekend.
This dynamic worked in your favor in the height of clinicals and coursework. You could focus your energy into the demanding semester and the women you want so badly to help. You didn't have to spend much of your energy trying to be okay for Emily. Now, with demands winding down, you've realized you don't actually know what is going on in her life, or she yours. You realize how lonely you've actually been, and how not having her around to get you out of your own head has probably contributed to your rapid burnout.
Despite your inclinations to avoid talking about your feelings, your master's in Social Work has definitely taught you otherwise. So you try to test the waters one morning while fixing your bowl of cereal, breakfast being the only meal you share together these days.
"You should see if you could cut back some hours. You must have enough to get those lenses you want." You say over your shoulder, having more courage to open up when not looking directly at her.
"Naoms, I can't, you know that. I need this job. I'm trying to save up for multiple lenses and to rent studio space."
"I get that, and I support what you want to do. I just… I just don't want to lose this in the process." You say, pointing between you two as you sit down next to her at the kitchen table. She can tell it is really bothering you by the way you swirl your cereal and gnaw at your bottom lip. She stands up in front of you, places her legs on each side of your waist, and runs her hands behind your neck.
"Hey" she whispers.
"I just don't see you anymore…" You feel your voice crack, and you look anywhere but at her. In response, she gently runs her hands towards your cheeks, where she grabs ahold of your attention.
"It's just for a bit, yeah? I know it's inconvenient right now, but we're stronger than this. We'll be okay." You chew on your bottom lip, debating whether to press the matter further. Because, yes, you have felt incredibly lonely. But, you are Naomi and Emily; you've been through hell and back. And with that, you give in and give her a reassuring nod and kiss. You quickly realize how much you've missed this affection, so you stand up, keeping her legs wrapped around you and your arms around her waist. She yelps in surprise, and you both giggle and share urgent kisses as you carry her into your room.
And that is the last time you bring it up. So it goes on like this for a bit. For 2 years, actually. Until one day it doesn't.
She had a series of wedding gigs in Bristol and decided to move back home for a few months to save money rather than commute. You weren't thrilled about this plan, but you accepted it. The loneliness that had been eating at you has become your new normal. Besides, she planned on returning in a month, just in time for Christmas.
But more gigs came up, and Christmas was instead spent getting drunk off your tits with Effy, who had recently relocated to London. She provided much a needed distraction by way of alcohol and dancing. And it was at the bar on Christmas, where the two of you were bellowing Christmas carols, when Sofia walked up to your side. The two of you worked at the women's clinic together, having spent many days commiserating about the difficulty of your work and discussing the wider problem of violence against women. As she threw flirty glances your way and affectionately placed her hand on your arm as she laughed at your jokes, you realized just how painful the loneliness had become.
After Christmas, there was still no sign of Emily returning, and she had since taken up another part-time job bartending at Fishpond's. Her communication went from sporatic to non-existent. You continue to go out with Effy, although now nights were quickly filled with Effy and Sofia. After one particular evening, you give in to Sofia's advances, and kiss her. It feels like a flood of emotion and desire after years of loneliness. You feel a bit angry at Emily for making you feel this way, and convince yourself that you are justified to have acted out. But the guilt eats away at you, so that when she took the train up the following weekend, you confess.
"How fucking dare you!" Emily yells, stomping through the apartment packing up her clothes.
"I'm sorry! It meant nothing! You've disappeared, and she was being flirty, and I just didn't want to feel alone for once." You sob while perched on the side of your bed, helplessly watching Emily pack up her things.
"Oh, so this is my fault? How fucking mature, Naomi."
Spinning further out of control, you stand up and reach out for her arms. She tries to tear them away, her tearful eyes glaring at you. But you hold on tightly to her wrists so that she looks at you. "I'm sorry! It was a stupid mistake. I love YOU. Can't you see that I just want us to be together? I want to have you in my life! All day, everyday. Not when it's fucking convenient for your work. Please, Ems. All I ever wanted was US."
"You have a funny way of showing that" she seethes through clenched teeth. She quietly walks to her side of her bed, and buries her face into her pillow. You hear her muffled sobs, and don't know whether you have the right to console her. But you want her to know that you want this. So you lay down next to her, stroke her hair, and kiss her head as you whisper, "I'm so sorry. I love you, Ems. I love you."
She takes the train back to Bristol the following morning. You both agree that you still want to make things work. Em just needs some time and space to heal from what feels like a huge betrayal. You agree, and accept the consequences to your own actions.
You send love letters to her regularly via email, text, or through the post. You tell her how much you love her, how beautiful she is, how much you miss her. You receive a message after midnight each day, and it is a simple and reassuring, "I love you, too, Naoms."
After two weeks, Emily's messages are less consistent and affectionate. They are often apologies for getting out late or missing a Skype date because of an extra shift. You want to give her the space she needs, but are angry that she is even more distant than before.
You spend an entire month just waiting for a phone call or a loving message. It doesn't come. You continue to keep the loneliness at bay through frequent nights out with Effy, and only Effy. One night, as you both stumble home, the laughter dies down between you, and you speak what you've refused to accept for so long.
"I can't fucking do this anymore," you whisper.
Effy does not respond immediately, instead choosing this moment to click her lighter and exhale a cloud of smoke. She does not even have to ask you to clarify, because it was clear these nights were a response to Emily, or a lack thereof. She watches you as you continue looking down the street, trying to work things out in your brain.
"I fucking… I can't." You shake your head.
"So tell her." Your eyes dart toward hers, which are sad. And that is what does you in. Because you thought this would work, that an end wasn't inevitable. But it was, this being clear to the one person who knows you best.
The tears start pouring down your face, and everything you've been pushing away for so long bursts through your chest. You're left sobbing uncontrollably on the sidewalk, just blocks from the home you once shared with her.
You spend the next two weeks trying to get ahold of her, but to no avail. Frustrated, you shoot her a text. You just want a reaction or a response. Anything.
Em, this is fucking ridiculous. I haven't even heard your voice in a month. This can't work this way. This is done.
You don't fully mean it. As you wait for a response, you imagine a million different scenarios of how this will play out. The most likely one being her panicking, and making promises to be better. To hear her say, "We're Naomi and Emily. We're stronger than this."
Her response arrives via text shortly after 1:30am.
You're right. I want to forgive you, but I can't. I'm sorry.