January 11 （visa expires in 3 days）
I decided to go to Brooklyn to see my mother.
Naama was right, I would regret it if I didn’t.
She was my real family, and I would be a legitimate citizen there, not a tourist on a temporary visa.
There was no point postponing the painful separation from Daniel.
It was about to happen anyway because his visa was expiring.
I had to be realistic and our surviving a long-distance relationship wasn’t – it would just be an extension of the illusion of the past month.
We might have been able to do it if it were only distance separating us, but there was something else: neither one of us was willing to take the hit for the other.
Daniel wasn’t willing to face his fears and go to New York with me, where we could live life like a normal couple.
I seriously considered joining Daniel in his nomadic life and going to visit my mother in Brooklyn at some point, but the instability of that kind of lifestyle scared me and, well, I missed my mother.
I booked a non-refundable flight for three days later. It was impulsive, but I didn’t want to be talked out of it. I wanted certainty in my life. Obviously, it was a trial run. I kept my apartment and my bank account in Thailand. But I wanted things to work out in New York.
I went to Daniel’s apartment, ten minutes away.
He was staying in a renovated apartment building closer to the beach.
I’d never been there before. Not surprising maybe, since we’d only known each other for a month.
To call the apartment untidy was an understatement.
He hadn’t bothered to clean up for me, and he was even happy to show me the mess.
He eventually realized that something was up. And that was the moment – I told him.
“Stay with me another month,” was his response.
“And then what? You’ll go away and leave me.”
Daniel looked down, as if wondering where the ants on the floor were heading.
“What’s the point of another month? It’ll just hurt even more.” I said again. I wanted him to understand.
“It’s another month in our perfect present.”
“It isn’t the present, it never was. It’s just the past – a perfect one. That’s why it’ll be so painful in the future. Stop living an in illusion if you’re going to end it anyway in a month.”
“I won’t end it. We’ll do long-distance. We’ll see each other again!”
“What use is it, Daniel? You’ll be traveling the world and I’ll be in the one place you can’t stand. I don’t want that kind of relationship. It’s a recipe for pain.”
He stared at me. “You know about my problems with New York and my parents.”
“You want me to accept that’s why you won’t go back to New York?”
“I’m scared, babe. I’m scared of how people there will react. I’m scared of being ostracized. I’m scared of what people I know will say about me. I’m scared of my parents’ reaction.”
“I get it Daniel. I’m not angry. You know, I recently figured out that I was depressed when I was younger.
I used to tell myself that I was feeling a bit sad, that it would pass.
I couldn’t admit the truth because I didn’t want to be a problem for my parents – they had plenty problems already – or for anyone else.
If I cut class, my mother would worry, my father would get annoyed, my teacher would be angry, and my friends would be disappointed that they were a player short for soccer.
No psychologist could have diagnosed me.
I was a regular kid, maybe even ‘accomplished and sociable.’ Every morning, I’d tell myself to just keep going.
One foot in front of the other. But then I read the book The Perks of Being a Wallflower and realized there was no way I could go on hiding from the world and from myself.
So I did it – I came out and eventually went to Thailand.
I still do my best to make the people I love happy, but I have boundaries.
I let myself cry and stay in bed when I need to.
That’s my proof that I’ve grown up. Where’s yours? ”
He stared at me in silence. So I kept going, letting out all the thoughts that had weighed on me for weeks.
“You must be aware that you’re a nomad because you’re afraid.
Even if the lifestyle has a million pros, your main motivation is fear and it’s not healthy for you to keep doing it.
You have to face the fear before you keep traveling.
Escapism, even if it’s disguised as pleasure, work, satisfaction, is still escapism. ”
“How dare you say that to me? You escaped to Thailand!” Daniel shouted. I’d never seen him angry before. But then, maybe this wasn’t really anger.
“I’m leaving in three days and going to face my past. You’re welcome to come with me and face yours.”
“Amit…” his voice cracked, and tears streamed down his face.
“Time to decide whether you’re willing to fight for love or give in to fear.”
“Amit, you have to understand.” He grabbed my hands.
“I do understand. But you’re choosing to surrender, to give up a chance at love, friends, family and keep running away. I don’t want to be a part of that. I have to help you and the best way I know how is to give you a reason to stop. Don’t talk to me until you make a different choice.”
It was the most difficult thing I’d ever said in my life, especially because it was directed at someone I loved, standing in tears before me.
They sound like angry words, but really they came from sorrow – so deep that it threatened to crush me.
They were also words of conviction for what I knew was the path best for both of us, even if he still wasn’t ready to hear them.
I broke away from him and headed for the door.
It hurt that he wasn’t willing to come to New York with me, but I couldn’t force him to give up his lifestyle and the work he loved because of me. And, well, I was leaving first so I was no less responsible for the breakup than he was.
I looked at him one last time. This person that I would have done anything to please, and left before I burst into tears.