by Jessica Pan
But I think that you are falling into the trap of “Love the one you’re with.” If you really think about it, would you prefer Callum to Sam if both of them lived in Melbourne? Either way, if you keep flirting with Callum, things with him will progress.
Even if it feels harmless, these things always turn serious fast.
Here, I’m back to hanging out with Jacques and Marc and Sasha, and see them on the weekends, when we go to house parties. Whenever I see Olivier, I try to be extra friendly to eliminate this coldness that’s developed between us, but he’s having none of it. Finally, I just ignore him as he ignores me.
To prep for my upcoming SAT classes, Josh gave me extra training sessions, and so I’ve had to spend hours with him as he teaches me things like, “If you don’t know the answer, just act like you do but make them figure it out.” The one-on-one sessions are pretty intense. We’re becoming really good friends—it’s great to finally have someone get all of my cultural references and jokes. We joked about how we thought we’d spend our time in Paris becoming great writers, but instead we’re teaching snobby teenagers how to get into our alma maters. We also cried a little about this.
Josh is such a sturdy, levelheaded presence. He’s so straightforward and blunt. After Olivier and the subtlety of the French, it’s refreshing. I once told him that horses are people too, and he said, “Well, then why don’t I get to shit in the street?” If I had asked Josh, “Is the door open or is it closed?” he would have responded, “The door is locked and you will never have the key.” Still not the nicest thing to hear, but at least the ambiguity is completely gone.
By the end of our intense teacher training, we started having lunch together and I told him all about Olivier, whom I’m still hung up on. When I reached the part about the last time Olivier kissed me, I couldn’t keep it together and started crying. He put a hand on my shoulder, but it didn’t feel out of place. It just felt comforting.
Anyway, he has a girlfriend. Whom he lives with.
He also buys me coffee all the time when we bump into each other before work. His rationale: “I am your boss. I know what I make, and I know what you make, and I know who can afford this more.”
We then go and drink them on the steps of a big nineteenth-century government building around the corner, where we share a cigarette. I have officially given them up(!), and his girlfriend has made him give them up too, but somehow I always have one or two in my purse. And he says witty things and basically we pretend we live in the Jazz Age and have lives as public intellectuals, in which sitting around drinking coffee for half the day is an acceptable occupation.
Quitting smoking (which I have now done four times since graduation) is not my only self-improvement effort. I joined a gym and went curtain shopping. I just reread that and realized I am on my way to being a trophy wife who is really good at taking the SAT.
That’s pretty much the most plausible future I can think of right now—everything else is hypothetical. Now that I know my time in Paris has a definite ending point because I can’t pursue my PhD here, I’m growing anxious about moving to a new country. I hate thinking about starting over in a new place again. To start a PhD in the United States, I would have to repeat my last two years of coursework—and I’d have to pay US tuition fees, which are enormous, especially compared to here.
I started asking everyone I know where they thought I should go. Josh: “New York!” Sasha: “Vienna!” Olivier: “Anywhere but here!” (It was implied.)
But there is one other option that sounds feasible: England. Pros: I speak English. I wouldn’t have to pay US fees. And most important, my French coursework would still be accepted, because both France and the United Kingdom have the same postgrad system.
I’m starting to think England might be the only solution. I’ve been researching programs in London and I’m going to send off some applications to see what happens. If I don’t do anything right now, I’m going to end up back in Wisconsin, trying to explain the point of a film studies master’s degree to recruitment agencies and my father.
But that means no more Sasha, no more Josh, no more Seine and cobblestones and champagne-colored light. I’m already reminiscing about my present.
Anyway, I’m off to go teach sixteen-year-olds. I had my first class yesterday, and in case you have forgotten, sixteen-year-olds are assholes. One kid dropped other people’s coats on the floor, dumped out the contents of the girls’ purses over lunch, and basically made my life miserable. Good joke, future psychopath.
Love,
Rach
OCTOBER 20
Jess to Rachel
That future psychopath sounds like Callum. Whom I can’t stop thinking about. That is, when I’m not hating myself for doubting my relationship with Sam. What is wrong with me? I care so much about Sam, but I’m getting frustrated. I’ve finally found someone and yet I sleep alone most nights. I moved here so we could be together—but we’re hardly ever together. In my darkest, most selfish moments, I think that he could find a way to see me more if he really wanted to. If he loved me more.
That’s when my mind wanders and I wonder what it would be like to be with Callum. I want to know what it would be like to kiss him just once. I want to sleep with him just once. And then I’d know what it was like and it would never have to happen again.
Do you think I met Sam when I was too young? I’m beginning to think this. Although I’m always on the lookout, I never imagined myself finding The One until I was at least thirty. Sam arrived earlier than I expected and maybe I need more time to explore, to be alone, to be less serious, to learn about what I want from my life. To be with other people.
The extreme fluctuation of my feelings is beginning to scare me. Last year I was in Beijing. I fell so hard for Sam and all I wanted was him. I would have done anything for him, and then I did. And now here I am in Australia, part of a real relationship for the first time, and yet I’m thinking about some guy who makes me laugh by pretending to fall into a trash can.
I feel sick thinking about it. I don’t know what to do. At this point, I seem to be trying to stand very still balancing these two relationships. I want everything to stay as it is, where I can flirt with Callum during the day and come home to my boyfriend, Sam, on the weekends.
Last night, a group of my classmates stayed late at the computer lab working on our final assignments for the semester. At midnight, Callum walked me to the closest train station. He asked what I was doing that weekend and I told him that Sam was coming into town. Callum nodded and grew serious. He said, “You’re holding two fortune cookies. One says, ‘Stay with Boyfriend Sam.’ The other says, ‘Date that asshole from your program.’”
I couldn’t believe he was really saying this. Why did he have to push the boundaries and be so bold? Why was he ruining everything?
I’d never seen his serious side before, and didn’t realize that he liked me so much. Am I only doubting my relationship with Sam because Callum appeared in my life? Now that he’s presented himself to me so seriously, it seems like I really do have to make a choice.
I think you and I are in similar situations: Life has once again handed us ultimatums. In six months, we could both have completely different lives. You might be in England on your way to becoming a fancy professor, and I could be...breaking up with Callum.
I feel like my choice is less “Choose Callum or Sam” and more “Choose an unpredictable life of many loves” or “Choose a stable life with one love forever.”
But instead of confronting these feelings, I simply shook my head in disbelief at Callum’s audacity—and also at my own. I don’t stop him from saying things like this, and I did not immediately leave. I did not say, “Don’t talk to me this way ever again.” I tried to laugh it off. I waved good-bye.
Moments later, when I was on the train, Sam texted and I did not reply until I was at home.
He’s flying into Melbourne tomorrow for the weekend.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Rachel, I’m holding two fortune cookies.
Which am I going to choose?
Jess
OCTOBER 22
Rachel to Jess
You need to make your decision before a fortune cookie does it for you. You have the rest of your life to think about.
If you want something new and exciting, then you should break up with Sam now and pick Callum. But excitement always fades eventually. Is it still going to be funny when Callum falls into garbage cans as a forty-five-year-old man? I feel like there will always be new Callums. But honestly, I’m not sure if there will be other Sams. You love everything about him. His living in Sydney is temporary, but I’ve never heard you describe any guy the way you talk about Sam.
Sam could be the wrong choice, but remember that even though you didn’t meet him when you were thirty, it did take twenty-five years to find him. On the other hand, Callum’s only real pro seems to be that he lives in Melbourne and is new. He sounds like most of the guys you’ve ever dated—hilarious and unpredictable—but Sam is the first guy who you’ve actually considered a real future with.
Look at the guys you’ve dated since college. Bruno Who No Speak the English and George Who You Don’t Want To Touch and Old Man Ray. Next up, Trash Can Callum? Or Sam? Whom you loved so much that you left China for him?
Let me know what you choose.
Love you,
Rach
P.S. If you pick Trash Can Callum, I’m really sorry about this e-mail.
OCTOBER 23
Jess to Rachel
Too late.
Sam has left me. He knows. He knows everything.
On Saturday, we had a great dinner out in the city and walked home arm in arm. We fell asleep spooning and I was so happy we were together. And then at 3 A.M., my phone rang. I couldn’t find it immediately, and the ring woke Sam up. I finally found my phone at the bottom of my purse and I saw that it was Callum. I hit ignore.
“Who was that?” Sam asked.
“No one,” I said and got back into bed. “Go back to sleep.”
Then, the phone rang again. Callum. Sam looked at my phone and saw this.
“Why is he calling you at 3 A.M.? Why is someone else calling you at 3 A.M.? Why is a GUY calling you at 3 A.M.?”
I pressed ignore and then a minute later, the phone rang again. I shut it off and turned to look at Sam. I was frozen with guilt and fear and horror. Sam lay next to me and began shaking uncontrollably. I tried wrapping my arms around him, telling him it was nothing, it was nothing, but he was shivering. Shaking.
He kept asking me, over and over again, “Why is Callum calling you?” And then he began asking, “Does he call you often? How much do you see him? What’s going on with him? I thought he was just some guy in your class whom you barely knew.” I kept denying there was anything going on, even denying Callum’s feelings for me. I was overcome with fear and such guilt unlike anything that I have ever known. I kept playing down Callum’s feelings because I didn’t want to worry Sam. I rested my head on his chest, and his heart was beating so quickly.
Suddenly at that moment, I wanted to have never met Callum. I wanted to undo what damage had been done. I didn’t care if I ever saw Callum again. All I wanted was for Sam to be as loving and trusting as he was when we fell asleep earlier that night.
We both lay there in the darkness, not sleeping or touching. This morning at breakfast, I tried to be chipper and talk about a million other things, but Sam was quiet.
Finally, he looked at me and said, “Please tell me everything. Tell me everything that’s ever happened with Callum. I’m asking you to be honest with me.” I felt sick looking at him, scared of the truth, scared of what boundaries I’d broken.
I lied. I said that Callum was just a friend and nothing else. I said I did not think that Callum liked me at all. I said I definitely did not have any feelings for him. I said I had no idea why he was calling me at 3 A.M.
Sam asked me again, “Please tell me if you ever spend time alone with him. Please tell me what he says to you. Please tell me if you have ever thought about him romantically.” And I lied again.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth about my feelings and doubts. All I could think about was how I might lose Sam and that I would do anything or say anything to keep him.
I finally saw how everything really was. Callum meant nothing to me and Sam meant everything, but it was too late.
I loved Sam, but I could not tell him the truth about what had happened. If I told him everything, there may be no way back to where we were. I finally managed to end the conversation by saying I was going to shower.
When I stepped out of the shower, Sam and his bags were gone. My computer was open. Rachel, on the screen was my last e-mail to you. He’d read it.
It’s over. I’m so shocked that I don’t know how to react. I don’t feel angry. I don’t feel betrayed. He knew I was lying. And I had my computer open and my e-mail inbox open. I would have done the same thing.
I could barely bring myself to reread my words.
“I want to know what it would be like to kiss him just once. I want to sleep with him just once.”
Oh God, can this ever be undone?
I really fucked up. He’s been gone for a few hours now, and I’m going crazy. I didn’t know what to do except write you.
I don’t know what to do next. Call me.
J
OCTOBER 24
Jess to Rachel
I can barely keep my eyes open, but before I crawl into bed and sleep for the next ten years, I’ll let you know what happened after we spoke. I’m still trying to process the last few hours.
Sam wasn’t answering his phone, and I had no idea where he had gone. I had nowhere to go. I didn’t know what to do. I just lay on my bed staring at the ceiling for hours, intermittently numb with shock interrupted by stretches of misery when I realized that I may never be in the same bed with Sam ever again. I remembered how I had also lain in my bed in Beijing the morning he left, staring listlessly into space, and I didn’t know how I had ended up right back where I had started, even though I had traveled halfway across the world.
There’s nothing to do when you feel like this. Nothing that can be done but staring into space or frantically hatching plans to win the person back or wiping back angry tears. Fucking fucking Callum. Fucking me. Stupid fucking me.
There was also the crushing guilt. During the entire flirtation with Callum, I never really thought about what Sam would think or feel when he found out. I thought about me and what was better for me and whom I should be with, and now all I can think about is the look on Sam’s face this morning.
We were slowly building something, and he is so good to me. He’s the only guy I’ve ever been with whom I trust so much and whom I never get tired of being with. I can’t believe I hurt him. I lay in bed for a long time.
And then hours later, there was a knock on my front window. Sam. I opened the front door and we both stood there, not daring to say anything. It was dark outside and I did not invite him in and he did not try to come inside. I knew that I could not reach out and touch him anymore.
On the porch, I told him everything, although he already knew it all from reading my own words. But I don’t think he knew how much I loved him, because I didn’t even know how much I loved him until last night. I think it was the most honest moment of my life, standing in front of Sam, groveling, desperate, and distressed, telling him how I needed him and how careless I was but how much I loved him. Finally, I stopped talking. He had been rapt the entire time I was talking, moving slowly closer, with an unreadable expression on his face. And then he reached out his arms and I stepped into them.
I think we stood together like t
hat for twenty minutes. And then he turned my face toward his and kissed me. “No one has more love for you than I do,” he said. “No one.”
He came inside and we talked for a few hours and then he left to fly back to Sydney. He knows I didn’t cheat on him and he knows I love him. I didn’t lose him, but I know that Sam doubts me now. At the beginning of a relationship, everyone acts like the best version of themselves and is very cautious, but inevitably, someone is going to make a mistake. But I just happened to make a really huge mistake.
It’s almost as if that ever-present lurking part of my existence that wants to stay up all night and smoke cigarettes and run away to different countries also wants someone like Callum to come along and ruin everything. Even when I am unsure of Sam, I still feel like he is too good for me in some ways. As in, he’s actually good, something so rare. Everything Sam does is thoughtful and careful—the one thing he’s ever done that seems brash is date me.
I don’t know exactly what drove me to stray, but I think there’s a certain sadness to finally getting what you want. I’ve wanted to meet someone like Sam my entire life, and then when I did, I felt too settled. There’s a simplicity and sense of adventure to being alone, and I sometimes envy you for still having it, as you explore Paris. Even when you’re getting your heart broken, you can still wake up and not know what’s going to happen next. When I was single, I could hitch a ride on a whim or spend the night with an exciting stranger. I love Sam so much, but sometimes I wish I could have it both ways.
But after today, I know, I really know, that I can’t.
But I pick Sam. Almost losing him made me know that he is worth more to me than exciting strangers. And I’m finding that again and again, I choose him.
We discussed that if this is going to really work, we can’t be apart anymore and he’s going to try to find a way to move to Melbourne. The magazine he was working for is about to fold, so it’s a good time for him to leave Sydney. We’ll finally be in the same city for the first time in our entire relationship.
