January 4 （visa expires in 10 days）
After that conversation, we stopped talking about the heavy issues in our lives.
Neither of us pushed and I was fine with that.
We both needed to relax into some sort of routine, and I liked that we were doing everyday non-Instagram-worthy things together.
You never see the heroes in movies going to get their hair cut together.
Books can have pages and pages devoted to the color and texture of the leaves in the forest where the characters are walking, but haircuts never come up.
It’s unfortunate. The mundane moments are important because they make up so much of our lives.
“You do know I’m afraid of barbers?”
Daniel and I were sitting in the waiting area of the barbershop. He was eyeing the barber in terror.
“Really? Why?” I asked as the barber snipped away briskly.
“They’re armed! Look – a whole arsenal!” Daniel pointed at the barber’s tools.
“And there’s that cape that fastens around your neck.
You can’t move because you might cause your own death – oops, the scissors nick your jugular and it’s your own fault.
A barber that doesn’t like you can take you out in a flash, or worse, make you look so terrible you want to jump off the Empire State building.
When I was in India, a barber beat me on the back and called it massage.
And in Mexico the barber nearly burned me alive with a steaming hot towel! I’m telling you. They’re assassins.”
“How about the dentist? Are you scared?”
“That’s different. They don’t hide the fact that they’re going to hurt you, or that it gives them pleasure.
You willingly submit to the pain and that makes it less scary.
Barbers, on the other hand, are disguised as nice people who just want to have a chat when you can’t hear what they’re saying because the clippers are mowing your scalp. ”
I submitted to the pain of losing you soon, but it doesn’t make it less scary. No… I didn’t say that out loud.
“Maybe they’re managing their aggression by expressing it in a legitimate service to society?” I said instead.
“Next thing you’ll say I have a death wish because I get my hair cut a lot?”
“No. You’re just crazy.”
“Crazy about you?” he whispered in my ear.
I rolled my eyes.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said when he saw my reaction.
“I don’t think you’ll be here long enough for me to get used to it.”
He looked at me in silence. I’d hit a nerve. We had to – simply had to – stay focused on the present.
“Next!” the barber saved us from getting into it. Daniel went over nervously, as if he were approaching the gallows.
Does it make sense to go on as normal when decisions have to be made and problems must be faced?
I thought I saw Daniel shiver when the barber got near his ear with the clippers. I felt a bit sorry for him.
Afterwards we walked in the direction of the mall. I wondered if Daniel was always this quiet after a haircut. But he held my hand, and I understood what he couldn’t articulate.
Inside the mall I steered us to my favorite bookstore.
“Do you read books?” Not to be judgmental, but I didn’t think Instagram-influencers were major library users.
“I listen to books. Much better.”
“What do you mean listen to books?”
“Audiobooks – recorded readings. Even someone who can’t read can listen to books.”
“You think that people who can’t read buy recorded books?” I tried not to sound too critical.
“Yes. Makes sense, no?”
“But you do know how to read.”
“True. But I’m always aware that some people aren’t as lucky, so I support the recorded books community.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
The look on my face, begging him to not really be such a dimwit, made him burst out laughing.
“It’s a good answer for an interview question about how I contribute to society by being a nomad.”
“I’m begging you not to say that in an interview. If you do, I’ll never go out with you in public again.”
We browsed in the shop.
“Maybe I’ll buy this.” Daniel laughed when I held up Surrounded by Idiots.
“Shouldn’t that be in singular?”
“Well, you’re such a colossal idiot that sometimes I think there’s more than one of you.”
“In your dreams – more than one of me.”
Yes, I said to myself, maybe then one of them would stay in Phuket.
“Well, at least you’re not as weird as The Monk Who Sold his Ferrari. ” I picked up another interestingly titled book.
“Glad I still have room for self-improvement. Maybe I’ll run into that guy someday in East Asia.”
We decided to buy each other a book – one we wanted to share.
I got Daniel The Alchemist. True, it’s about a nomad, but I chose it because it’s one of my favorites and I think everyone should read it.
“What’s special about this book?” Daniel wasn’t one for mystery.
“I think the end will surprise you,” I replied after a pause.
Daniel didn’t seem satisfied with my answer, so maybe curiosity would make him actually read it.
Daniel got me The Power of Now . I don’t know if he had even read it, but the title was enough for me to get the message.
Next we went to the nearest Starbucks, the one we’d gone to on our first date.
“I have to go soon. I have work.”
“Don’t you get tired of listening to other peoples’ problems?”
“Sometimes it can be boring, but a therapeutic conversation has a sort of magical atmosphere. It’s a place where dark secrets that might have stayed hidden forever can be revealed.
It’s a place for emotional stories, full of hope and despair, disappointment and fear, but also courage.
Sometimes I can feel a person put down their life’s burden during the meetings and it moves me that they trust me like that.
It feels like an accomplishment every time.
I need that, to feel worthy, because I don’t always remember that I am. ”
“What? Of course you’re worthy!”
“Why is that a given?”
“Well, because… I think you’re worthy!”
Blood rushed to my cheeks.
“But you’ll leave and then I won’t be worthy anymore.” Frustrated, I said it out loud this time and tears welled up in my eyes.
“That’s not true. Even if I was in a parallel universe, I would still value you! All you need to be worthy is one other person, creature, to value you. Don’t fool yourself into thinking you have any control over whether you’re worthy or not!”
It was too much. I put my head in my hands and cried.
Lying in bed late that night, I tried some meditation techniques to help me fall asleep but I couldn’t quiet my mind.
My thoughts swirled around one thing – the inevitable parting from Daniel.
We tried so hard not to think about the future, to live in the moment, to love like there was no tomorrow.
But that’s like finding out that a tsunami is forecast but still walking towards it because the weather is currently great.
I’m not a masochist. I’m programmed to avoid pain.
I can’t manage to live in the moment when a tsunami of pain is coming right at me, and fast. The tears sprang up again.
I tried to ignore them, but they intensified until they were pouring down – like Phuket’s over-the-top rain.
My chest ached as if something dark was trying to burst out of it.
I sobbed into my pillow in frustration and punched the bed.
It made no difference. Daniel would still be heading to his next destination.
Why had I let myself fall in love, be sucked into this magical bubble that was about to burst?
But, at the same time, a voice in my head said: the pain will come anyway, so why not try to relax and enjoy it for as long as the bubble lasts?
That’s not how it works, said another voice in my head.
The stronger the relationship gets, the worse the pain will be.
I wondered if anyone had researched this dilemma.
I tried desperately to focus on my breathing and travel to that dreamlike place where there is no future and no rational thought.
But the dreams turned into nightmares, and I woke up fatigued.
Strange how love can morph from something magical to something so threatening.