“I can’t wait until the end of June.”

It was an honest enough comment. But coming from him, my breath caught and I automatically said, “Yes you can.” He sighed and clasped my hand tightly. After a moment he voiced, “this sucks.” And I agreed eagerly.

I know that my leaving has been bothering him, but all the same, it was nice to hear him say it. It was nice to feel our hands collapse in toward each other tightly, both clearly feeling the pressure and the weight of the coming months. And how could we not?

It’s nice to hear, beyond just knowing, that he’s not happy with the situation. And I’m sure that it’s nice to hear that I’m not 100% happy about it either. I’m downright scared, possibly to the point of getting cold feet. But I don’t have any other options for this year, and still feel that I need to prove to myself that I can do this — that I can follow through with something.

But wouldn’t following through with him be enough?

Ah, but that is an escape route masked in pretty, deceptive clothing.

After all, this isn’t necessarily a fork in the road. By choosing to go to Russia for one year, ten months, actually, I’m not, by default, leaving him behind. I know I can have both for at least one year.

It’s after that when it gets tough.