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The next month passes in a blur of faux smiles and a shattered heart. I ache to mourn my loss of Andres, but I can’t succumb to my sorrow completely. I have fleeting moments of mourning during stolen moments of my days—in the shower, walking to class, at the store, in my car. In these moments, I allow myself to miss him. I cry, praying that my tears will take my pain with them as they fall. These moments, of course, are contingent on whether Nolan is completing these activities with me. I know he would accept my grief, but I can’t let him see it. I don’t think that would be fair to him to know that I’m lost without Andres in my life.
Andres has finally stopped calling, texting, and emailing me. I have yet to actually speak to him about any of it. I know that if I were to speak to him
