1. Lonely Yearning #2
My smile fades, replaced by a frown as he discourages me, telling me not to waste money. I can hardly believe what I’m hearing.
“Waste money? Reid, seeing each other isn’t a waste of money,” I protest, my voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. “We haven’t seen each other in weeks. If you don’t want to see me, just say that.”
The words hang heavy in the air, our disagreement thick over the line. Reid sighs heavily on the other end of the line, a fraught silence lingering between us.
“That’s not it, you know that’s not it, baby,” he finally responds, his voice softer, almost pleading. “It’s not about not wanting to see you. It’s about being practical. We both have responsibilities and commitments. We can’t just drop everything on a whim. You have work.”
I press my lips together, fighting the urge to respond instantly. His words stung. “So meeting me is now a whimsical act?” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.
His silence is all the answer I need. The anger burning in my chest intensifies, morphing into a feeling of betrayal and hurt.
“You don’t get to decide what’s whimsical, what’s practical, what’s worth it, and what’s not, Reid. Not for me,” I snap, my voice hard, my words sharp.
Reid stammers in response. “Sweetheart...I... I didn’t mean it that way...”
“You…” I start, but Reid cuts me off, his voice now steady and firm.
“Babe, I’m sorry and I didn’t mean to upset you,” he begins, a raw honesty in his words. “I’ve been exhausted with school, and my word aren’t coming out right. You know I miss you... and I miss our little man more than anything.”
A heaviness settles in my heart at his words, his apology sincere, his longing clear.
“We miss you, too. I just thought…” I try again, my voice wavering with the emotions swirling within me.
“No, let me finish,” he persists, a soft plea in his voice. “As much as I want to see you both, to hold you, to spend time with Liam, I think it’s best if we wait until the end of the semester for winter break when I come home.”
“But that’s another week away, Reid,” I protest, my heart aching at the thought. “We haven’t seen you since you left.”
“I know... I know it’s tough, but we need to be practical, babe. We both have responsibilities. I promise once this semester is over, I’ll be home. And I won’t leave your side, or Liam’s, until school starts back up in the spring. I promise,” he repeats, his voice sincere, his words genuine.
I’m silent with a heavy heart. The truth, in his words, is undeniable. Even though the pain of separation looms large, I know we need to be practical. For Liam. For us.
“Alright, Reid,” I finally respond, my voice soft, my tone resigned.
As I hang up the phone, frustration bubbles up within me, which is a familiar feeling these days. I can still hear Reid’s voice in my ear, filled with the echoes of his college life, so different from mine. Irritation prickles at the back of my neck, creeping into my jaw and tensing it.
I glance over at Liam, peacefully asleep in his crib. I’ve been juggling motherhood and a job without a pause, and all the while, Reid’s life seems to continue as normal, miles away. It doesn’t seem fair. I toss the phone onto the couch, rubbing my temples to dissipate the building tension.
I draw in a deep breath, reminding myself that this isn’t what I want Liam to wake up to. Not this cloud of frustration, but it’s hard, so hard, when you feel you’re doing everything alone.
As much as I felt hurt, deep down, I knew Reid was right.
College was his chance to explore, to establish himself, and it wasn’t fair for me to intrude upon that with my presence.
Each time we end our phone calls, his last words echo in my ears, “Together, Now and Forever.” A lump forms in my throat every time, but I echo his sentiment, whispering it back to him, holding the words close to my heart.
He is still showing his love for Liam and me in his own way, and I feel grateful for that.
The reassurance that he’s okay with our temporary long-distance relationship makes things a little better.
This is our life at the moment, both of us in different worlds yet connected by love, making the best of our circumstances.
It isn’t easy, but it is necessary. I’m learning to be strong, for myself, for Liam, and for Reid. Every day, I make it a point to capture all of Liam’s little moments. His infectious giggles, his adorable coos, the way his face lights up when he turns over.
I encapsulate each of these precious moments in an array of pictures and videos that I diligently compile.
I feel an immense desire to ensure that Reid remains a part of Liam’s life, even if it’s through a screen for now.
Every night, before he dives into his books, I send him a flood of these memories.
His excitement upon receiving them, his laughter echoing through the phone as he watches Liam’s antics, it soothes my heart, reassuring me that Reid is still very much a part of our lives.
As I send each image, each video, I can almost feel Reid’s presence, as if he’s right there with us, sharing in the joy of Liam’s growing years. Looking down, I see Liam has once again fallen asleep while suckling.
His little lips part as I gently pull away, his eyelashes fluttering slightly, but he remains in his peaceful slumber.
I adjust my shirt carefully, mindful not to disturb him.
Picking up my little one, I pat his tiny back gently, attempting to elicit a burp, but he’s already back into a deep sleep, his soft snores a lullaby in the still room.