Distanced From You
Closing the distance via phone calls.
Story by Ana Soltero
Dear Jayce,
I went on a walk with a friend a month or so ago. We had just crossed the street, on our way to the park. I must have brought you and our relationship up at some point, because the next thing I knew he said: “Tell me about it.”
“About my long distance relationship?” I asked while looking up at him, the bright sun making me squint.
“Yeah. Tell me about it.”
My heart thumped as my brain ran to retrieve memories.
When we first started dating, I told you I didn’t want to hold you back. We were freshmen in high school — big decisions were going to be made in the next few years and I somehow had the foresight to utter those words. I must have believed I’d stick around for a while.
We both knew we wanted to go to college. We talked about it in passing whispers, but we never had a full conversation. Maybe if we had, we could have avoided continuing to build on a crumbling foundation.
You found yourself in the middle of a big decision: Were you going to go to college in Montana or were you going to stay in Washington? Fearful of what was to become of us after high school, I was hoping you’d pick the latter.
You didn’t.
Do you remember the evening you called to tell me you chose Montana? You said you were nervously sitting at your desk right before you dialed.
All I remember is picking up, hearing your words and losing my breath. Why did it get so hard to breathe all of a sudden?
I told you I was proud and excited for you while straining to hold my river of tears. You later told me you could see right through my facade.
We got off the phone and I found myself curled up in a ball, trying to keep all my pieces glued together as I wondered what this meant for us.
The concept of time eluded me between the end of the dial tone and my phone ringing again. I declined your calls again and again before I picked up to tell you to stop calling. And that’s when you told me we should give long distance a shot. I hesitated, but I agreed. We’d soon be joining the approximate 75% of college students who are in long distance relationships.
During those first few months of college, communication was almost nonexistent — we’d send the occasional Snapchat or text to check in, but those were few and far between. We didn’t understand the importance of communication in a relationship. Neither of us are mind readers (to my knowledge). We could have avoided so much frustration and confusion if we had just talked and listened to what the other had to say.
We also didn’t think about how being geographically close and seeing each other often is a necessity in romantic relationships. According to a Journal of Communication article, both are needed in order to develop emotional attachment, mutual understanding and shared meaning.
But why would we be thinking about this? All we thought about was how the holidays were approaching and we’d made plans to see each other.
I was a nervous wreck leading up to seeing you. I had read somewhere that couples often break up during Thanksgiving break, and first-year college students are frequent offenders. Yikes.
Not to mention, Thanksgiving is the start of a slew of holidays. Stress is already high during this time. Trying to keep a relationship alive, especially if both parties are away from home, may only increase that stress level.
You had the opportunity to break my heart over those few days.
You didn’t.
Soon enough, winter break came along, which meant we’d have a greater opportunity to spend time together.
This is when doubting whispers started to creep up. I thought to myself, “This is it. This is when we both realize we can’t do this anymore.”
But within those few quick weeks, we found a new appreciation for each other. When we returned to our respective colleges, we started talking on the phone every night.
This was weird at first. We went from the occasional “Hey, how’s it going?” dead-end text to walking each other through our day. No detail was too small or insignificant. We still end the night with an “I love you” before going to bed.
Today, we stay on the phone with each other for hours, sometimes sitting in silence together while we do our schoolwork. Other times, we stay on the call while you fall asleep.
I take in the comforting silence while the seconds tick away. I get another hairline fracture on my heart whenever your phone dies or the call drops during those moments because that’s when I know you’re back to being 758 miles away from me.
When we first started talking on the phone, you told me we were going to do this every night. Now, you tell me we haven’t missed a nightly phone call unless we’re together.
“Sometimes you [are] asleep and don’t remember, but I wait until you pick up,” you tell me.
Three years later I still get a smile on my face when your name lights up my phone screen.