Kissing Is the Easy Part

Chapter 61 The tiramisu and the Kelly bag

Flora

It would be reasonable to predict that I, Flora Morgan, would not hold up well in a long distance relationship.

When I had Sean beside me in NYC, every minute tasted like it was sugar-coated. I was floating on a cloud and every time I glanced sideways he was there, tall and handsome and very much mine.

When our plane landed in St. Bart's, it started to turn sour. My parents generally gave us a lot of freedom in our luxury resort, so consequently me and my brothers would all be out meeting potential targets (friends, for me, and something less innocent for them). We would only join one another for breakfast as we shared gory details over freshly baked croissants. I used to love it, but this time I missed Sean so much I couldn't enjoy anything.

I sat by the pool half the time texting him, but he was busy doing family stuff in Miami. Over at his grandparents' there were lots of holiday activities combined with lousy Wi-Fi reception, so Sean didn't always reply back as eagerly as I hoped. I understood, but it didn't stop me from getting in a pissy mood. Every phone conversation deteriorated into a fight, until I wasn't quite sure what the point of calling each other was anymore.

I knew it was because of the contrast. I was too used to holding his hand all the time, and now I was left with a gaping void. It felt like quitting some sort of hard drug cold turkey.

"You can't squeeze out twenty seconds to send me a text?" I accused one evening, pacing in my room, all the while knowing I was acting stupid but I couldn't stop. It was like watching the bimbo in a horror movie walking into a creepy garage; you know she shouldn't but she's doing it anyway.

"Didn't I send you one in the morning?" Sean's tone was decidedly less patient than the last time this subject came up, which was-fine, last night.

"That was like half a day ago."

He paused for a few seconds. "Flora, I don't want texting to turn into an assignment."

"I'm not asking you to hand in a paper. Just a quick I miss you would be suffice."

"If I really just texted that, you'd be mad." He made total sense, which of course made me madder. "Besides, Christmas is a time for family. I don't want to check my phone all the time. It's rude."

"So now I'm rude, on top of everything else."

"Can you just be happy that your loving boyfriend calls you every night like he promised? I really do miss you, you know that. Just..." He sighed. "Give me a break, please."

There were three sentences that irritated me the most in a conversation, which would be:

a. You are overreacting.

b. What do you want from me?

c. Give me a break.

These were also the three most frequent things Sean would say, in random order, and sometimes all at once.

The call ended without getting completely out of hand. I told him I loved him, and even though it came from the heart, it served more as a peace offering. He said it right back like an echo.

For the rest of the evening I spent my time cyber-stalking people, but my mind was elsewhere. I had to wonder what would happen when we went off to college. He would be obscenely busy with his engineering courses and frat parties, and he certainly wouldn't call me all the time either. When he came to see me on the weekends, we would argue and he would try to comfort me and beg me to stop crying. Gradually he would start to care less, until one day my tears would come to mean nothing to him. It's called desensitization.