When I woke, I was still in the same bed, in that same hotel room, all the way across the world. I lay there and was an absolute mess. The tears finally came pouring out. Exhausted by the shock and stress of the night before, I had slipped quickly into a sound sleep. But now that it was daylight, I needed to figure out what I was going to do. I obsessed about all the arrangements I had made, but they masked the real issue. I didn’t want to be alone.
The whole episode with Jay could have been an opportunity. It was a clear message that I needed to be honest with myself, not some guy; and that I needed to be able to spend time with myself and not need a relationship to prop me up. I told myself that he couldn’t handle my attempt at honesty. Did he think in a million years I would want to be living with that kind of a scar? It was the same shit as always, I told myself.
Except it wasn’t. Robert had held me when I broke down sobbing. He supported me going to therapy even if I wasn’t truly addressing my issues. I had hoped that Jay would react the same way—and who knows? Maybe he would have if I hadn’t insisted he leave. It was all so damn emotional and volatile and fucking embarrassing. I didn’t know what to do next, and so I did what I always did when that happened. I called Chuck.
Despite the huge time difference, I reached him. I practically melted from gratitude upon hearing his voice. He talked me down and helped me focus on the trip and handling all the details. I needed his practicality to override my emotional state. Secure that I had a plan to move forward, I veered back to Jay. I still wanted to speak to him, try to make amends, and maybe, just maybe, get back on track with him. The crazy thing was that I still cared for him with what felt like love.
After saying goodbye to Chuck, I contemplated the next call, to Jay. He answered his phone and my heart sank at the sound of his voice. He was at his sister’s in Sydney, he said. I took that as a good sign. However, I instantly felt embarrassed. Did his sister know about me? Did she know about me? What was I to say or do? I wanted to come to some understanding and resolution about what had happened, I said, and perhaps, maybe, hopefully, resume our trip. He invited me over to his sister’s so we could speak in person.
Within an hour, the two of us were talking in a little sunroom at his sister’s house. I apologized for my behavior as soon as I got there. Once we were alone, I let him know how much I cared for him. He took my hand and said he understood the deep hurt I had suffered and the bravery it took to open up to him. In turn, he suggested we continue the trip together as friends. I was hesitant, though I hoped he couldn’t tell. I clearly didn’t want to be his friend, but I also wanted to go on this trip. I knew it would be magical. And I hoped that it would cast a spell that would bring us back together.