“You have strange ingredients for your meatballs,” Kayden said as he stared down.

“You’ll see,” I said coyly.

We checked out and headed back to his parents. I was ready to work my magic. We had the house to ourselves. We both began chopping our vegetables, garlic, and onion. I mixed all of my ingredients for my meatballs. A quick sauce simmered to cook my meatballs in, the aroma filling the air. I took my time forming my each ball perfectly and placing them in the sauce.

The moment of truth had arrived. I selected a meatball and put it on a plate for Kayden to taste. I watched as he cut into it and smelled it before placing it in his mouth. He chewed slowly and kept his eyes locked on mine.

“They’re great, but mine are still better,” he said as he licked his lips. He wasn’t going to answer truthfully. He couldn’t be the judge of this competition.

His mother walked in the door and greeted us with a smile.

“What are you two up to?” she asked as she sat on a bar stool at the counter.

“We decided to cook. Sophia made meatballs, which she claims are the best and I made soup. Would you like some?” he asked.

“Sure, I’d love to try both,” she replied.

She sipped the soup and complimented him on how good it tasted. She was right; it was delicious. She cut the meatball and placed a piece in her mouth. She chewed, and we both glanced at each other and then at her. We waited for her response.

“These may be better than my meatballs,” she said, as she plopped another sliver in her mouth.

I beamed with pride, turning to him with a grin.

“When do I get to taste yours, Kayden?” I asked.

“I’ll never make mine for you. No way in hell,” he said to me with a small pout.

“Aw, come on. You have to make them for me,” I pleaded.

“No, Sophia. You win. Yours are great, mine are bland in comparison,” he said wrapping his arms around me.

We were unsure of what to do while visiting his parents. He lived here for years with his ex-girlfriend, Lisa. The ex that had him arrested and the reason he was on probation. I didn’t want to run into her during our visit.

That evening we returned to his parents’ social club to spend time with them, as we would be leaving the next morning, and he would be flying back to NOLA. A band was playing music from decades ago, and the people moved around the dance floor with grace.

An older woman approached the table. She reached out and ran her fingers across his head. “Hey, Kayden, want to dance with this old woman?”

Kayden smiled and laughed. “Thanks Edy, but I don’t think my girlfriend would like that much.”

“I would…” Something hard hit my leg under the table.

“That’s alright, hot stuff. Maybe next time,” she said looking me over before turning around and leaving.

“Why’d you hit me?” I asked.

“I don’t want to dance with her.”

“I would’ve loved to see it. You would’ve made her night,” I said.

“If I’m going to dance with anyone, it will be you.”

“Not tonight and to this music, someday maybe,” I said.

“Why? I want to dance and grind on you.”

I began to fidget. “I’ve never been a good dancer.”

“I’ll teach you,” he said.

Fuck. I hated dancing. I was the awkward person unsure of how to move my arms.

We shared a pitcher of beer and my eyes grew heavy. We said our goodbyes and headed back to the house to go to sleep.

The next morning his mother took us to breakfast. Afterwards, a woman I didn’t know stopped us outside; she said, “Honey, you don’t know how lucky you are. When my husband was alive, he looked at me exactly how he looks at you. He adores you.”

Her words struck me in a profound way. I never analyzed how he looked at me. His friends and family said he looked happier than he has in a long time. I guess I brought joy into his life, but he’d done the same for me. A breath of fresh hair, the fun I’d missed, Kayden represented everything that I searched for in my life, but hadn’t found until now.

There’s so many variables, so many things that could go wrong in this long distance relationship. I worried he would meet another woman that lived close by and wouldn’t want me anymore. The whore would have to see my name running down his leg and be reminded of me if he strayed.

It was a long drive back to the airport. We planned to see each other in a few weeks, when he returned to Florida. He said it would be best if I dropped him at departures, instead of walking him in. Tears formed in my eyes at the thought of saying goodbye. I would probably turn into a crying mess if I went inside and dragged the goodbye out any longer.

The moment had arrived—he turned to me and kissed me with one hand on my cheek and the other on the back of my neck. I felt tears streaming down my cheeks and onto his fingers.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered on my lips.

“I’m trying not to. I can’t help it, I’m going to miss you terribly,” I said through my tears.

“I love you,” he said as he placed his forehead against mine.

We sat there for a minute, neither of us wanting to move.

“I love you, too,” I whispered against his lips.

He pulled away and reached for the door handle. I couldn’t let that be last time I touched him or smelled him. I jumped out of the car walking to the trunk. He grabbed his bags, placing them on the ground lightly and turned to me. I instantly hugged him—clutched him like a lifeline. Maybe I should hold him hostage. He would have to be the one to walk away, I couldn’t do it. He kissed me again with promise of a future, and I returned it with longing. A kiss can convey so many words without a sound.

I hated saying goodbye; even more, I hated not knowing how long it would be before I’d see him again. Driving home, I felt lonely.

Kayden: I miss you already.

The tears were still streaming down my cheeks as I realized I would arrive home to an empty bedroom, and even sadder, an empty bed.

He boarded the plane before I pulled in the driveway. I went inside and tried to make myself busy until he called me. That evening ended just like the others had when we were apart. It made my room a little less lonely to see his face and hear his voice.

Time Apart