Life Without John

When John left town and caught a bus to Wellington, I stayed behind. We agreed that it would be best to work separately, and to make up as much money as we could before embarking on our final journey, in a month's time, into the Pacific.

I immediately began to see his absence everywhere.

There was his empty bed when I left for work, and the empty house when I returned in the evening. No rosy light, no fire in the stove, no dinner smells, and no arms awaiting me. 

My only company that night was Ken, the hostel owner, who dropped by to let me know that he was going to move me into a different house. The season was over, he explained, so the house I was currently living in was closing down for the year. I had my choice of rooms, but I'd be moving the following morning. 

I cooked myself dinner and, after an appropriate segment of Downton Abbey, put myself to bed.

I was in no hurry to get ready the next day. Ken may have his plans, I thought, but it was my day off, and I was going to take my time. So, after a leisurely breakfast and a long shower, I said goodbye to the cozy house before packing yet again, taking several trips down the hill to the new house (John had left some of his stuff behind).

When I saw my new room though, I cheered up considerably. My roommate was a girl from Korea called Sunny, and she kept the room clean – while maintaining a good level of girlish bottles, bags, and shoes everywhere. I had a closet and several drawers, a bedside table (with a reading lamp!), two pillows, extra blankets, and a lollipop to welcome me home. The entire house was sunny and cozy, with an enormous kitchen, two bathrooms, free laundry, Freeview TV, and a DVD player that actually worked. 

I felt that I was going to like it here.

Since it was sunny out, I put the laundry on, and popped in a DVD in while waiting for the wash – a cheesy kid’s movie, and one that no one else would ever have watched with me (okay, okay. It was Karate Kid). I made myself a cucumber and cheese sandwich (my brother’s favourite, I couldn’t help remembering), and after lunch, hung up my clothes to dry in the sun. 

If John were home, I thought, he’d probably have done the laundry by now. It’s strange – by the time I think of doing laundry, nine times out of ten, he’s already done it. And, I couldn’t help but feel he would have disapproved of my sandwich – particularly its lack of beetroot and lettuce, or anything resembling a stack of nutrition. For some reason, the simplest things – watching that movie, making that very enjoyable plain little sandwich, and doing my own laundry – gave me a weird sense of power. I was in control of my own life.

Stupid, right?

No matter. In a spirit of independence, I walked to town, through sunshine and fallen leaves. 

At the library, I borrowed Margaret Atwood’s new novel. I also picked up a mystery called The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, and a knitting book. I ducked into an internet café for half an hour and downloaded all of the second season of Glee, and all of the Harry Potter movies. Then, by pure happenstance, I found a yarn store. Perfect! After browsing the walls of brightly coloured yarns, I felt creatively inspired and bought 5mm needles and some cheerful yellow wool. I put everything into my backpack and strode on. Then, on the way to the grocery store, I went into a specialty cheese deli and bought $5 worth of goat Gouda on a whim.

Living dangerously, right?

Well, still. Baby steps.

I made a deal with myself that (after the cheese) I would only buy healthy food – that way, I’d have to eat it all or else waste it. I therefore bought lots of vegetables, and lots of fruit, soy milk, eggs, corn flakes, muesli, and yogurt for breakfast. I bought rice crackers to go with the cheese, and chicken to roast with the vegetables; also, some salmon, and finally, two chorizo sausages and a can of tomatoes (I love to eat them together).

It was going to be a good week. I had some delicious meals planned, a lot of television to watch, books to read, knitting to start, and a healthy dose of work on the side. My idea was to keep myself busy, so that my time apart from John would go by quickly.

My roommate moved out the next day, as it turned out. So, I had the room (and the closet!) to myself. 

Far from being lonely, I began to really enjoy myself.

Every night, I made myself dinner, then heated up the hot water bottle and curled up with a book or a movie. I walked to and from work, except when I worked later than 10:00 at night, when I took a taxi home. I gradually got better at serving tables, and as my confidence improved, so did my power to charm the guests. The girls at work took a decided interest in making me feel welcome, and began to invite me out. The following Tuesday, I took myself out for pasta and a movie, and had some laughs over popcorn while watching Bridesmaids by myself.

John and I spoke on the phone every night, and sent each other text messages if anything funny or interesting happened during the day. Last week, we even talked on Skype. It was really nice to see him, even if it was just the Star-Trek screen version.

Somehow, two weeks have gone by.

If there is anything that these two weeks without John has taught me, it’s how to take care of myself, and how to enjoy my own company. 

As a matter of pride, I make my bed every day, and keep my room clean - no clothes on the floor. I do my laundry and shopping on my days off. I visit the library more often than I really need to, and I tend to take myself out for coffee, just to enjoy my book in public, where I can watch people, and feel comforted by the company of strangers. I am always on time for work, and I’m also happy to come in a few hours early, or even on my day off, if they ever need me to (which they often do). After all, I’m here to work and make money.

If this is loneliness, then maybe I actually like being lonely. I don’t know anyone in this town, and even the hostel I live in is almost empty; and yet I don’t really miss anyone’s company. I feel fine with the company of the characters in books and in movies, and with my own thoughts. I relish it even, because I always know that I’m not really alone. John is just a phone call away. 

Life without John has not been altogether unhappy – in fact, I’ve made myself very comfortable. Don’t get me wrong: I miss John, and he means everything to me. This is the longest we’ve been apart in five years, and it’s definitely strange. But it isn’t too hard, because I know that in our hearts, we are close. I think living alone has been good for me. I will certainly get my fill of independence and solitude.

John hopes to come back to Tauranga in a few weeks (or maybe longer). And as much as I am comfortable and happy, and as quickly as this month will pass, the fact is, it’s still a few weeks too long to live without John. He is the very best part of my life, and, no matter how content I am at the moment, I still know that, in the long run, all of these other little entertainments in my daily life can never fill the gap he leaves behind.

I can picture that boy stepping down off the bus, and it puts a smile on my face every time.

The truth is, even when he is far away, I carry him with me always. For me, there is no life without John.