I Don't Miss Him

*Present day*

Two weeks. That's how long it's been since Eden last called me.

Three weeks. That's how long it's been since I last saw him.

I find myself wondering if we'll ever have a chance... if we ever had a love. I've almost forgotten how it felt. Almost. I don't think I could ever truly let it slip.

At least I'm not on that emotional rollercoaster any more. Now I've accepted that this is how it is and there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing but wait. And occasionally visit.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, or so they say.

I rarely see Adam now, but for a brief interlude when we exchange the children. You'd be forgiven for forgetting that he exists at all. I don't miss him. I spent almost half of my life by his side and now that we're apart, there's no void. There's no emptiness. I don't miss him. 

At first I considered that this might be because I've been so preoccupied with Eden... but two weeks, no word from Eden, and it doesn't change how I feel about Adam. Or don't feel. Adam wants to work things out, Adam thinks we should be together, but if there's no void without him, then I don't see the point of being with him. If there's no void without him, then what value did he bring to my life in the first place?

We only get one shot at life. I want a love that leaves a void. I want a love that leaves me pining and yearning and needing someone. Not a love that leaves me feeling sorry for him. Obliged to check if he's alright. Sad that he's sad, but not willing to do what he needs to be happy.

I'm not sure if this is a reflection of me as a person, or if it's a reflection of our relationship.

I'm going to see Eden. I need to feel his arms around me. I need to look into his eyes. After our last visit, when I just felt off beat and sad, I need reassurance.

Because although I don't miss Adam, my God, I miss Eden.

Too hard, too much?

*Present day*

I left the office and headed for the motorway. After only one trip, I already felt used to this drive. The alone time in the car was almost enjoyable. The independence felt good.

There was something different this time though. I wanted to go, I wanted to see Eden, but I didn't feel as excited as usual. I felt down. I felt like this was becoming a burden. Like I was in a long distance relationship with someone who wasn't putting any effort in. Like I wished, just once, he could make the trip to visit ME. 

I was driving to a small town about half an hour from where Eden was, a friend was staying at a relatives for the night and offered me the couch. I pulled up outside the house just after 8pm. The quaint, fibro cottage looked small and cold and yet somehow still inviting. I think this was because of the warmth of the people inside, I knew that good hearts would be greeting me.

We chatted in front of the heater with tea and Iced VoVos. I felt welcomed and at home, and my somber mood soon lifted. As I snuggled into my sleeping bag on the couch, I mulled over the speech I was hoping to give Eden. I can't do this anymore. This is too hard. I need to think about me for a while. I started to feel like a terrible person. I promised him I wouldn't do this, I promised I wouldn't flee again, I told him I'd be here for him. I remembered the last time I gave him that speech. I remembered how he felt, and how I felt. The pain was indescribable. But how long could I try and be a friend to a man who I was in love with?

After breakfast we sat in the warm country sun, soaking up its rays. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. I spoke with my friend about country air, country hospitality, country atmosphere... It was just idyllic, I didn't want to leave. But the purpose of my trip was not to have a holiday, it was to see Eden, so I went on my way.

I pulled into the carpark feeling concerned. There were so few cars there that I wondered if I had the right day. The visitor centre reception was almost empty, but for one woman waiting patiently. After about 15 minutes a few more visitors arrived, and this prompted the guards to bring the drug detection dog out for a quick search. I was fascinated to see the dog park himself at a woman's feet. She had a slight rock and roll look to her with her mini skirt, singlet, boots and messy hair. The guards escorted her into a room for questioning, and only minutes after came out and asked the woman at the desk to call the Police. I felt disappointed that I wouldn't see what happened, because at the same time I was taken in to see Eden.

I didn't wait long, he strolled out looking tall and tough in his white jumpsuit. It always amazes me how a prison inmate can look so handsome and well groomed. He had kept the beard, and his hair was a little longer than usual.

"I love your hair longer! You look... less... mean?" I stroked his head and smiled.
"I'll have to cut it then." He joked.

We were off today, Eden and I. I'm not sure if he sensed my mood, or if he was perhaps in one of his own, but we were off. We sat quietly, occasionally filling the silence with small talk. My planned speech sat on the tip of my tongue, refusing to take the plunge. I wondered if Eden was also holding back, trying not to say what was really on his mind. For the first time since he was locked up, we ended the visit early. Inmates aren't allowed to use the bathroom during a visit, so when Eden said that the can of Pepsi Max he'd consumed had got the better of him, I accepted the early mark with gratitude.

The drive home was long and contemplative. I didn't doubt my love, but I did doubt Eden's. And as long as that thought lingered in my mind, I wasn't sure I had the strength to keep going. But then I thought, if I were to tell him now that this was too hard, and then in six months time, if he were to call me on his release, I'd be eager to see him. I'm always eager to see him. So then how would it be fair of me to pull the plug when it was hard for me (again) only to dive back in as soon as it became easy?