The rain streaks my glasses like the tears that are too knotted and tangled inside to be released. I walk up this dark street in this rain and look around this complex. Undoubtedly it was our place. I cannot escape it. Here is the pool and it reminds me of her bikini that she only wore for me, the one she looked so stunningly beautiful in. And how we always wanted to go swimming but never seemed to find the time.  This office where we first signed this lease together. The laundry room we so often (but not as often as we should have) visited, carrying her little flimsy plastic collapsible laundry bag, the one with the flowers and butterflies on it.  These streets…where we had our first big fight because my mom had just bought me tickets on a short notice for a trip to California with no thought of her.  I will be leaving the apartment soon, only a month from now. The thought is almost too much to bear.

I torture myself because I want to remember. I can’t stand it when people block out the past as if it isn’t worth anything. Every moment of my life, both good and bad, has been intriguing and worthwhile. No experience yet has matched the beauty of my time with Kayley. She taught me what it means to love someone, what it means to be cared for, to be close to someone. For the first time I was alive in someone’s eyes. And it was no passing phase, but real, sincere, love for each other. The power of this will never leave me, even as I move on in time.

Could we have worked? Probably not–our differences caught up to us, our mistakes culminated, our language melted away to uselessness. But was it worth it? What sort of question is that? Of course it was.  I don’t want to forget a moment of it. I will always care about her, always love her, always wonder how she’s doing. Why wouldn’t I? Am I not entitled to care for someone even if I no longer am with them? Isn’t the fact that we shared such time together make it insane and heartless to just completely turn away and black out the past? The pain is only in the fact that I miss her face, that I miss knowing she’s ok, and knowing that I could call if I need to talk or just hang out–without any need for these insane tanglings of love.

So I’ll reminisce now because I don’t want to forget. I’ll reminisce about all the good times and the bad times and grin wryly about how young and hopeful and exuberant we were.

We really were so hopeful. From that first kiss to the last.

We told that story often, about how we met, after not seeing each other for nearly two years, at Steak and Shake and sat talking for hours. Then every night for the next week we talked late into the night. Damn, it feels just like yesterday. The second night we sat in her yellow bug and ate frappecinnos from Starbucks–they didn’t have the banana one like Kayley wanted (she loved banana). And I sat and she told me that she was an atheist, and I told her that, despite my impending mission, that I had realized the year before that I didn’t believe in God. She was so incredibly relieved–she thought I was going to completely shun her. During the conversation I made a flower out of the paper napkin and she stuck it in her little thing on her yellow bug. The next night we went to see Music and Lyrics, the next we watched house. After that we started walking around her neighborhood. At first her mom wouldn’t let me inside. So we’d walk over to the Rosewood playground and we’d talk about everything and anything. We’d just chat and chat for hours and it was so easy. I remember going around these three little seats in the playground for what seemed like forever and how she tried to spin on the balance beam and fell, bruising her thigh. We had decided we were just friends, but we held hands after a few days, for no particular reason. Finally her mom let me come in the house and we would cuddle on the couch and talk late into the night. One night, a week into this, there was a lull in conversation. Without thinking I said, “You know, I’ve only kissed one girl before.” She leaned over and kissed me. I could’ve sworn my heart exploded. “I love you,” I said. “I love you,” she said. So it goes.

The rest of that month was strange. I spent as much time as possible with her but things got increasingly desperate.  I was leaving in a month, almost exactly from the time we first got together. We continued our little walks, around my neighborhood and hers. She got more and more depressed and me, like a moron, couldn’t understand why. Then she burst out in tears one night and said how much I was hurting her by leaving.  Startled I spent the rest of the time trying to explain and woefully failing.  I remember the last night we saw each other before I left for the mission. It was Saturday night, because I was being ordained the next day and she said she couldn’t bear to see me and not be able to hug or kiss me. I think the farwell was that night too. And she stayed by my side the whole time, and declared how awkward it was. I agreed. That night we spent forever in her car outside the house. Then she drove off, completely in tears–so much so I worried about her getting home.

During that little bit of time in Utah, we talked every day before I was supposed to go into the MTC, ringing up quite a bill on Peter’s phone. It was during those conversations she gave me my first nickname, Muffin, which was supposed to be a joke. Likewise, at some point I had taken to calling her princess, as a joke from the Avril Lavigne song about stealing your boyfriend (she has a line that says, “Hell yeah, I’m the mother fucking princess.”)  On the third day we said our goodbyes, which was the most heart-wrenching thing I’ve done in my life (when we said our final goodbyes this last time…she did so coldly, without a tear…then…she sobbed “I love you” in the most pitiful and desperate way I have ever heard.)

When I called her the next morning to tell her I wasn’t going she was astonished and, to my surprised, angry.  Why?! That was her response. She thought it was because of her. It wasn’t.

When I came home she was all I had. I stayed at her parents place for a week, sleeping on the couch we had our first kiss on. A lot of memories on that couch. I remember how fun and exciting and terrifying it was to be there. She’d stay down till late in the night then creep upstairs. Then in the morning she’d come down and kiss me awake. Never have I had anyone do that. Here everything in my life had been upturned and there she was, a shining brilliant star to light up my dark skies.  I stayed there a week then spent three months on my cousin Preston’s couch. During the day I’d work, haven gotten my job at Ruby Tuesdays back, and after school she and I would spend time together. Once it hit summer she started working at Ruby Tuesdays as well. We had the same schedule, always. I moved into my parents basement and we had our first taste of really being together there. She’d come over early in the morning and we would make our own little world there all day, watching movies, cooking, hanging out in that little windowless room.  At night we’d go to work.

She begged me not to go down to USC and because I felt so guilty about almost leaving her I obliged and stayed in Rock Hill and went to York Tech.  We had a lot of firsts in those months, I needn’t explain. I just remember how exciting and brilliant it was…but also how awkward it was. Since I had gotten home things had changed a little. She wouldn’t talk to me. She was quiet and withdrawn. We’d have these moments where I’d try to talk to her and she would completely withdraw and this would get me upset and I’d push at her, trying to figure out what was wrong. I should’ve known she was just hurting and scared, scarred from the act of me almost leaving. A few times this made me really angry because she was all I had. She said the only reasons she’d ever leave me was if I ever abused her or cheat on her.  But for the most part it was a good semester. We’d go to school/class during the day then meet at her house or at Ruby Tuesday.

She wanted to be engaged. For her engagement was a sign that I wouldn’t just take off on her again, that I’d be there forever and that my commitment was real.  She never seemed to want the relationship if it was going to be a permanent relationship. My Mormon background made me think the same way. So I figured if we were going to be together, we might as well go ahead. At first I wanted to get married soon, but her dad made me promise to wait until she was 20.  Still, I bought the ring and we got engaged. She helped me pick it out–a brilliant little flower-shaped ring that, while untraditional, was perfect. I bought it in secret and planned out the proposal. It didn’t go quite so well, however. She didn’t want to go to the movie I had planned so we had to change on spur of the moment. Then we got in a bit of an argument and she started questioning my commitment. Angry, I dragged her out to the car where the ring was. Here, I said, you want proof of my commitment? She lit up and made me put it away, back in the car, then grabbed my hand and started running off down the street.  Then we went back and she made me continue on the plans of the proposal. We went to the Rosewood playground, a place we’d avoided since my mission attempt. There I told her that I wanted to marry her, that this place, as a symbol of our childhoods and as the place where our love first blossomed, couldn’t be more appropriate for us to mark our entry into something more.

We made plans pretty early for moving down here. I looked at apartments forever. Kayleys dad got us stuff to put in the place. A lot of stuff. It would’ve been impossible without him. When I found Granby Oaks, I knew it would be wonderful. The manager was really nice and we got the apartment no problem. I remember the day we first drove down here. We hadn’t actually saw the place. We signed the lease anyway then Kayley and I ran from the office down to the apartment. Kayley was so excited she ran around the apartment for about and hours and did carpet angels on the bedroom floor. Then we started setting up and she put together her vanity table in the closet while we brought in the other stuff. I remember she cut herself on the table and got a little upset because she said she felt useless. I reassured her that she was not useless but wonderful.

By the time she left me she was a lot stronger than she was then.

Our first semester down here was an insane bliss. We would go to school, go to work–all the way to Lexington, and then come to our little cave and enjoy each other, playing house, watching anime, and building a culture together. I’d cook for her, we grew sunflowers, we enjoyed this little place.  We even took showers together…we always did. Everything was me and her. We made friends at work. We were known as the “KayleyJosh one word”. People, customers especially, would express surprise at the fact that I was engaged but I never doubted it. I loved her, what was the problem?

We only came home a handful of times that first semester. They were awkward one day affairs. I’d make a short stop by my parents, trying to rebuild the relationship, while she’d go to her parents, still afraid that my parents blamed her for my not going on a mission. This tension really flared up when my mom planned the California trip and bought me a ticket without thinking of Kayley. This would be an argument between us all the way until November, when we got her a ticket to go with us.

It was then that I formed my major and got my first research assistant job.  My interests seemed to be directing us. That was when we first started talking about interests. We’d have these conversations about what we wanted to do. She’d complain that she didn’t know what to do with her life. She had come in as a journalism major but didn’t really like it. I kept trying to share my interests but found them harder to articulate than ever, realizing that, in truth, they were hardly interests at all.  Still, because I knew I liked to write I tried to establish some time in which I could write. This was also a source of tension for us as I needed time to myself, while she didn’t know what to do.  I was also prone to ridiculous talk back then about how we could do anything, whatever we wanted, and we’d be fine. I’d find a job, she’d find a job. We’d have fun together…work out the details later.  She hated those moments. They scared her. I was a moron for them. My vague and formless dreams seemed to define our future. I’m sure it must’ve been terrifying.

The summer brought us tighter. We spent literally every moment together. Just home and work, thats it. We played a lot of video games. A lot of anime. We went swimming a few times. Trips out to our little Bi-Lo across the street. It was in the middle of that summer we had our first big fight. Something within us was pulling away. At first I thought it was just me, but I think it was both of us. Too much time together, I think. We needed space. My vague dreaming and her aimless wandering created two formless people trying desperately to mold our lives together.  Two squares don’t lock together like a puzzle piece would. We were sitting at Sonic getting milkshakes when it came up. “I”m not happy.” One of us said it. I’m not sure which. The conversation didn’t go well. It lasted so long the car died and we had to get someone to jump it.  A few days later we worked out a plan to reinforce our relationship. It was all useless, like most plans I make. I never look at them again. But things were a little different.  We both retreated a little. For no reason I found myself resonating with music about break-ups as if it had already happened. Still, I bought a ring and reinforced my commitment. I really did want to love her, want to take care of her. I tried harder and harder to do everything I could for her. And there were still many happy moments.

We used to grill early on.  Hamburgers I’d make from scratch. With french fries. After I became a vegetarian we stopped using the grill. It hasn’t been used in a year. We had those sunflowers through the summer. We’d always forget to water them until we were about to leave for work or school and we’d come out and they’d be all wilted. They grew so tall they reached up to the man-upstairs’ balcony (they were in pots sitting on a wall), so we had to move them out back. We grew quite a few flowers there. Flowers and horses, those were Kayley’s loves. And me of course. Early on in Rock Hill we had gone horseback riding a few times–some really wonderful moments with her.

The man-upstairs flavored our relationship in ways he doesn’t realize. When he was gone over the summer we were free to make as much noise as we wanted. But when he was there we became incredibly quiet. We felt like we were constantly being watched, like we had no privacy.  Even during the day, I realize now, we wouldn’t make noise. I realize this because the mixer we had…I remember her saying how loud it was even on the lowest setting. Its not really that loud. At night we’d whisper and close the door softly. We had to be quiet in bed.  It was tense and didn’t help things. By the time she left we had come to hate this place and the man upstairs.

She had bought me a guitar but when I tried to play it she’d either want to kiss me or leave and go in the other room, complaining of the noise.  Its ok, I never would’ve really played it anyways, as much as I’d love to its just too much time. It was amazing that she got it for me though. It was red like her hair. Like her soul at times when she’d let it show. Her hair was so beautiful. She had three hairstyles during my time with her, each incredibly beautiful. The first was long with a dyed black streak in front. The second was short–it was really cute. Then she grew it long and cut a few bangs, which I really liked.

That second semester together was rough. She decided she wanted to be able to make money so she was going pre-pharmacy. The impending 6 year program terrified us both, her because of all the work, me because it tied me to Columbia and limited what I could do. Still, she said she was doing it so that she could free me up to do whatever crazy stuff I wanted. I let her quit working as a mutual token for this sacrifice. We didn’t see each other nearly as much that semester. She was always busy, I was working at Bull Market. We were both lonely and struggling, unsure of where our lives were going. Tension grew.

At the end of the semester, things got a little bit better. We worked out a compromise about the the Christmas trip. She’d go and we’d get our own hotel. It turned out to be pretty good after the first day or two.  There was a lot of tension, yes, but it was a good experience. We had a lot of fun especially at the San Diego zoo and having the hot tub at the hotel we got with her and my dad’s points. It was nice sitting there talking late at night in the beautiful California weather.  Plus we had some good moments with Dylan that brought us all together. I considered myself luck to have a wonderful girl like her.

The next semester she switched to computer science and found what she’d like doing. She put together her own minor, perhaps as a demonstration that she was as capable and self-motivated as I was.  We resumed our busy lives, this time both of us not holding solid jobs. I was just working for Gehrke and doing the nanoscholar project and taking 18 hours. She tried to find a job for a while but couldn’t find anything.  During this time I realized I’d have to start making decisions soon about what I’d do after graduation. I started to try to make plans. But it was hard. Kayley didn’t want to be dragged elsewhere right when she had just discovered the thing she wanted to do and had just begun to settle into the program and make friends. The idea of uprooting and starting again terrified her. The idea of not being able to leave terrified me.

One day I was trying to talk over my future with Watson, the professor I did my first research assistantship with, and she became appalled by the way I talked about my relationship with Kayley. It got me thinking and I did what I thought I should do: I went to talk to her about it so we could work through it. She left. Just packed a suitcase and drove off. I thought we were done. I collapsed. It was a quick and sure collapse, unlike the slow and deep one I’d go through when it actually happened. The whole night I listened to music and cried and covered a wall with sticky notes of things I wished I could say to her. The next day she called. I hadn’t expected her to. And we made up. But I was cautious. I wanted to be careful. I knew things weren’t working out right.

But then the next few months were the best we’d had in a long time. A lot of it was because I gave in to her. I told her we wouldn’t leave, that we’d stay at USC till she finished. I stopped pushing for alone time nearly as much. The only thing I did push was my trip to France. I stopped trying to argue or work through our frustrations and honestly tried to do my best to just love her. Those were good months, really. We were happy together. It just couldn’t last.

I remember the way she missed me so bad when I was gone to France…and the way I missed her. It was so wonderful to be missed like that…but also terrifying at the same time.  I didn’t realize she had grown far more independent than she was before. She was stronger and getting stronger and more self-assured and I still saw her as weak and helpless.

A month later we started our month long initial break up. It became a war over small things. When to go out. What to buy. How to spend out time. When to go to sleep. Whether I can read in bed. It was rough. Finally, when I took a trip on short notice up to Raleigh to visit my uncle, she called and said she was done. When I got back I had written her a letter explaining how much we needed a change. She read it and said, well I guess thats it. She packed up and left. I thought its what she wanted. Later she was mad at me for letting her leave.

I didn’t want to let her go. And so all the misconceptions and such. Was a painful break.

The last time I saw her she came to the door to drop off some stuff.  I tried to talk to her. She evaded, turned away and left. One day while riding my bike to school I saw her car but didn’t see her in it. Oh that yellow bug! I drove it around pridefully for two years, unashamed of its tweety themed interior.  I didn’t mean to make this whole account sound so negative. It just emphasizes how young we were. We couldn’t figure it out, what was going wrong. But her face, I miss it so much! I miss her smile and her laugh. I miss her scent. I miss knowing this wonderful, brilliant human being. It hurts to know that I have hurt her, that she can’t see me without turning away. Even after being apart for 6 months. In these six months all my dreams have solidified into something realistic. I have concrete goals and projects, which I never had before.  I am excited about the future. But as I look forward to the paths that come I can’t help but look back and weep over what was lost, over that lovely girl who I love and have loved so much. I can’t help but think of all the times we shared together, of the food I cooked for her (and decorated), the cookies we baked together, the frequent batches of chocolate-chip waffles, the millions of times she made me laugh. I still remember how I’d see her walking up to me after class and I’d smile and be so proud to have her as my girl, to love and hold and treasure. Despite our difficulties we were able to laugh and joke and form a million little private jokes. Those jokes are already fading away into memory. We would never say “I love you too” because we wanted it to be sincere, every time.  I miss how so much of our vocabulary was taken from the Japanese anime we loved. How did this all melt away? I miss her. I still miss her.

Just two weeks ago I was lost in reading Galatea 2.2. The book was an incredible heart-wrenching account of a writer named Richard Powers, who was also the author. It was highly autobiographical, including the stories of how he wrote the books he wrote in real life and of his relationship with his girlfriend of ten years whom he just calls C. in the book. The whole thing is a running metaphor between literature and Artificial intelligence with loneliness, love, and what it means to be human.  The story that he described of he and C….it felt so close to the relationship Kayley and I had. It felt like us extended out ten years. Ten years of struggling to make each other feel better. Ten years of our own little world. Ten years of me trying to take care of her when as she needed was independence, to get away from the suffocation that I represent. Every success I had was a non-success for her. I indulged her when she wanted me to do anything but just go along.  In the end, she finally cut it off.  A year later she’s married with a kid. And I was happy for C. even as I was crying and feeling deeply the loneliness of Richard Powers. I struggled with him to create the AI that would replace the loneliness, struggled with him to find the inspiration to continue the creative act of writing and living. I fought with him for the humanity and hope within literature and that this AI that he created represented for everyone. And in the end, when it all came crashing down to the conclusion, I came crashing down with him, realizing that I too must move on past the final pages, past this girl I love.  Why do we do it, says Lentz at the end. Because we’re lonely.

In my dreams I call her up and we talk and we laugh like old times and we embrace and everything is ok, we’re able to talk again like we always wanted to.  Why do these dreams keep coming? Every few nights, I have another. And I wake up and find myself alone and wonder why life should be so lonely, why we find ourselves so incapable of just being together.

The other day I was helping Patrick move and another guy who works at the gym was there. I couldn’t help it. I asked him how she was doing. I just needed some reassurance that she was ok–not because I had hurt her and felt guilty but because I genuinely still care for this girl who in my presence had blossomed into a woman.  He said they had just had a whole conversation about me not but three weeks ago. She seemed to be doing well and moving past me. As he looked at me and we talked he said that I looked like I was doing a lot worse off. He may be right, I don’t know. I know that I am weeping now. I am lonely but it is not just the loneliness. I miss having someone who loves me but its not even just such selfish reasons. It is the tragic sense of someone moving out of my life who I care for more deeply than I have ever cared about anyone on this planet, in this whole existence.  To not even be able to say a word to her, to have her completely disappear is a tragedy greater than any I have ever experienced or imagined. Yes we were young and stupid but we loved innocently and whole-heartedly. We made each other smile and we shared a million moments together.  We tried intently and honestly to make each other happy. Whatever naive mistakes we made cannot change that fact. I miss her but I don’t ever want to forget her. To quote one of my favorite bands: “I’ll learn to live with the loneliness, but I’ll never forget–I was never your best bet.” I hope that she’s flourishing now. I hope that one day I will be able to reconnect with her and we can talk and reminisce and talk like old friends about the good times we had and the silly mistakes we made. We changed each other. We grew up together.   Nothing will alter her value in my life.  I don’t want ever to forget, despite the pain that remembering brings. I hope that she can feel the same way, but if she doesn’t I will understand and treasure the memory alone in my heart.

Adagato, Kayley-chan. Ashiteru. Sayonara.