Long Distance Breakdown

Four more days til he can get back to her. The deal is never longer than two weeks. Thirteen consecutive nights alone and even that is pushing it. After 4 years of long distance commuting Tom is feeling things start to implode. They're creating problems where there aren't any for the sake of conversation. Conflict creates contentious communion. Magnetic poles attracting and repelling simultaneously. It started so well. Big dreams, incredible connection. Flurries of fleeting layovers, insane exhausting weekends, extended overnighters,  the eventual week-long live-in. From the beginning they know what they're in for. Bicoastal breakdown. Tom vows he'll never do a long distance relationship. Elaine doesn't see it coming. An unexpected hello turns into a twenty minute seduction. His eyes on her arms, her lips on his neck, their fingers intertwine, legs interlock and time stops. Clothing litters the floor, sheets are soaking wet, an entire suite is consumed by their bodies on fire, as they devour each other whole. A new city, a new life, if only for the moment. A week of bliss blooms into months of ecstasy, that newfound elation of ingesting the unknown. Lust matures into love, a profound knowledge of each other's self and soul. They have a few years of grace and ease, compromise and patience. Then time and space start to wheedle their way in. Insidious. The unravelling, splitting at the seams. A long slow painful disintegration. Bitterness and jealousy over who commits to the commute, whose work is more important, whose heart more invested, whose womb more vacant. Tom wants a child. Elaine wants Tom. And the ocean. Tom wants a bigger life, more adventure, culture. A daughter, a son. A single place to call their own. Elaine likes their life. As is. The ultimatums, wounded egos, threats of transgressions. Miscommunication. So much love lost. So much time and space between their longing. The excuses, the fervent desire to be understood while not making space to hear or be heard. It has come to this. The last four more days.