He agreed, on the condition that I let him drive me to the airport on the Tuesday that I flew from JFK. I thought it would be harder, those couple of hours with him in his car, but they were easy. I just told myself to act like nothing had happened. Over the summer, Eric and I had discussed my year in London several times. I’d given him the chance to express any reservations, but he had insisted that we should stay together, continue to be mutually exclusive. His first visit was scheduled for October, six weeks after my arrival. Eric had already bought the ticket. So when we said good-bye at the loading zone at JFK, Eric said, “Six weeks feels like a long time, but it isn’t really. We’ll see each other soon.” “Hey,” I said. “This is going to sound strange, but I want you to know that if you think this separation is too long I would understand. If you want to take a break, be with someone else, I won’t like it but I won’t hold it against you. Right now is the time to tell me.
