Author's note: Hearing of terrible stories of arranged marriages for young girls of the Middle East, the thought... Show full author's note »
Goodbye, My Almost LoverI cried. What else would I do? What else could I do when my boyfriend, the one I had loved for three years, the one who made me laugh when my father yelled at me, the one who had shown me a new meaning of life since the day I met him, told me that he had to move to Italy?
He sat me down, looked into my eyes, and explained to me that his father, who was an interior designer, found a job double his salary in Italy.
“I don’t wanna do this. I don’t wanna leave my friends, my home,” he said, explaining to me the situation. He looked down, “I don’t wanna leave you.”
I just cried in his arms until he looked up at me and said, “It doesn’t have to end like this. I do not wanna leave you cryin’ for me, I want you to remember me making you happy. So I’m gonna make this last week together the best ever.” And he smiled that toothy smile that always left me breathless.
Nobody thought that Drew and I would work out. He was the person that all friends came to for advice, the funny one, and the music freak. I was that girl who was always dressed professionally, who was a talented pianist, and who always spoke proper English. But one day, at the beginning of our freshman year, I saw him staring across me in class, and, not knowing what else to do, ignored him for the rest of the day. The next day, he came up to me and asked if I would like to see a movie with him. I have never had a boyfriend before; I was only 15 at the time, so I was not sure how to react. I said yes, and we spent the next three years falling into deep love, a much more mature love than the love you are supposed to have at that age.
The last week with him was the most remarkable week of my life. Before he left, he kissed me one last time and told me that he loved me, and with that, he was off to Italy.