Neither of us said anything.

We sat beside each other, smelling of each other, faces still flushed pink, both of us speechless before the enormity of what we had done. We sat in silence for a long time. Perhaps the longest period of time we had ever been silent together and undistracted, both of us sitting on the bed and staring blankly ahead. Neither of us shifted.

I wondered if she knew, when she insisted I come home with her. I snuck a glance in her direction and found her face void of anything discernible—of any emotion that might give me some sort of insight into just what she was thinking. And I would be leaving, soon. Leaving both her house, and soon, the country.

And yet…I felt no excitement at the thoughts of what my new life would bring me. I tried to conjure up all the old images that once sent my mind into a frenzy of anticipation; a small apartment in a bustling city, new friends. Those Gay Pride parades I read about once in the paper, a big celebration of free love and liberty. I thought about the anonymity that awaited me, the very thing I had wanted for so long. I thought about how good it would feel to be totally and utterly myself. Nobody in my new life would know me as anything other than what I really was. Nobody would know of the shy, meek girl who clung to the strength and the confidence of others.

The images brought me no excitement. They didn’t seem whole, those pictures. There was something lacking in them, I found, for it dawned on me then that the very thing I had been chasing, all that time, was Connie. It was Connie that gave me confidence. Connie that gave me courage. It was Connie, always Connie. It made me better, loving her. It made me whole. She was there in every action, every word. She was behind every decision. It was Connie I was running from. I wanted to seek out a version of myself that existed without her.

I would simply go my whole life searching for the missing pieces of myself only to realize I had left them behind in the first place.

“How’s your eye?” she asked me. “Is it still sore?”

“No. It’s…Fine, now. Not even swollen.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Before I lost the courage to do so, I sucked in a deep breath. For the first time since we sat down, I raised my gaze to meet hers. “Come with me. To London.”

Connie closed her eyes and turned her face away, almost as if she somehow knew what I was going to say. “Alex…”

“We could be together. We could have more nights like last night. We could find you a job too. Or—or you could borrow money from your parents to pay for college there. You wanted to do some kind of social work before. We could—we could do anything we want. We’re not in school anymore.” My voice lowered to a whisper. “What happened before—all the reasons we had to end it—they don’t matter anymore. It wouldn’t be the same. No more hiding—lying—anything.”