We hug.  I kiss her on both cheeks.

‘I hate this part’, she says.  I agree.  We hate it for the same reasons.  Being from the UK, hugging, invading one’s personal space – always difficult, always intrusive, always uncomfortable even if comforting.  ‘Let’s just get it over with’, I replied.  And that’s when we hugged.

It isn’t like we don’t want to show how much we care for each other.  We do it twice.  Once when she arrives and then before she goes through the gate.  Not in between, of course.

It’s different with a lover, naturally.  That is more intimate and, therefore, hugging and kissing is possible.  Although we care, we are not lovers and so this is all just a little hard.

‘Thanks so much for coming’, I say for the umpteenth time.  But I am really grateful even if, whilst she was here, I found myself going back into myself.  Still, the weather has cooled now and I am back at work with plenty to do so I can bounce back.

A few days earlier: V phones me.  Will I swap sofas with him?  To damned right I will!  Perfect.  Apparently, even if he has a bigger flat than me, the two-seater will fit better than the three that he has.  And I still get to keep the chair and, maybe, will get the footstool.

‘Someone offered to buy the sofa’, he said, ‘but I didn’t want to split it up’.  It was a strange comment as the suite is split up.  One part not even in Milan right now.  I don’t know what he means.  As I’ve said recently, I am failing to understand most things that people say at the moment.  I don’t ask as the answer may not be good and I don’t want him to lie nor tell the truth as neither will be suitable.

He has the keys to his new apartment and is obviously happy, I can tell by his voice.  I am happy for him.  There may be a tinge of sadness/jealousy/anger but only a tiny little bit.  I am genuinely happy for him.  I hope he can make it all work.

More recently:  I receive an email with the address.

‘I wanted you to be the first to know’, he writes.  Except I know I’m not the first.  This comes back to my previous post.  Better to say nothing than something that is not true.  Was it supposed to make me feel good?

It’s not that it really matters but there really was no need to say anything at all and less to lie.  Some may say it was a white lie, to ensure that my feelings are not hurt, as if I am the most important person in the world to him – which, quite plainly and rightly, I am not.  But, I would rather know the truth or not be told, which would be even better.

Still, we are communicating after all and I know him better than to trust the things he says.  This may not be the communication I was waiting for but it is something.

And, the sofa is welcome as it means a better place to sleep for guests (or me).  There will still be room for everything else, I just have to move one small chair.

And now to work and the other work, both of which need some of my attention.