“And we’ll support you.” Jamie winked in agreement.
“We can ride the Ferris wheel, sightsee, go to Buckingham Palace to see the Queen, go dancing, have lunch at the Ritz,” Dexter continued.
“I’d like to go to the National Gallery Museum again,” I said, adding my suggestion to our growing list.
“Then we’ll go to the National Gallery Museum,” Dexter confirmed.
I looked at Dexter and Jamie affectionately, tears welling up in my eyes. “Thank you. I love you both.”
“We love you too, Julia.” Dexter looked at me tenderly. “You’ll be just fine, sweet girl.”
After dinner, I texted Anna to let her know I made it to London safely. Dexter had set up their spare bedroom for me in their newly-remodeled home. The rooms were small, but still decent-sized for London standards. I hadn’t slept much in the last forty-eight hours and due to the combination of jetlag, a full stomach, and pure emotional and physical exhaustion, I fell asleep almost immediately.
Dexter and Jamie were true to their word—they kept me busy. It was almost ridiculous how focused they were on their mission. They were dead set on making sure I had no downtime. Someone was with me all the time, so I had no time to wallow. If Dexter had other obligations, then Jamie took over and vice versa. It was like I had a set of personal breakup bodyguards—saving me from my misery one tourist attraction at a time!
Over the next several days, we walked all over the city. I was pretty sure this was why they were in such great shape; they walked everywhere. We went on the famous London Eye situated on the bank of the River Thames. We ate lunch at a vegetarian restaurant in Covent Garden, one of my favorite neighborhoods in the city. We went to the National Gallery Museum, where I got lost in the multitudes of art history. Dexter and Jamie even took me to a drag queen fashion show, followed by nightclub hopping at gay bars in Soho. I loved going out with them to the bars. Gay men knew how to dance and they had so much fun doing it. And I never had to wait in line for the bathroom.
On Wednesday afternoon, a couple of days before I was scheduled to leave, I had the day to myself. Dexter had to work and Jamie had an appointment with a local magazine editor. Jamie occasionally freelanced and wrote articles for a men’s magazine. I planned to take a walk at Green Park and meet Dexter at the Ritz Carlton for lunch, which was located across the street from his office.
Since I arrived in London, Dexter and Jamie had kept me so busy and preoccupied, that I had little downtime to think about Ryan and to start feeling sorry for myself. He was always in the back of my mind, though. Keeping me busy helped to numb the pain, but I was sorely reminded how temporary it was anytime I was alone. My whole heart, body, and soul ached for him. I had no magic solution that would make me feel better this time. Even escaping to the other side of the world wasn’t helping me much. Sitting on a bench alone in the park, I could no longer keep the pain in my heart at bay. My emotional dam broke and I finally let my tears fall.
I didn’t know how long I had been sitting there when I heard my phone signal a text. It was Dexter.
Dexter: I’m in the Ritz lobby. Where r u?
Me: Sorry – on my way. I’m sitting on a bench in Green Park - I can see the hotel from here
Dexter: Oh – I can see you from here :(
Dexter: Don’t move - I’ll walk over
I looked up and saw Dexter waving to me in the distance. He had just stepped out of the hotel lobby onto the sidewalk in front of the park entrance. As I watched him saunter over to me, I admired his casual, metrosexual look. Dexter always looked so fashionably hip and put together. Today he was wearing a contemporary gray suit with a white pinstriped shirt, black belt and matching black leather shoes. He had a messenger bag slung diagonally over his shoulder and torso. I felt underdressed in my jeans, gray hoodie jacket, and white t-shirt.
I used the sleeve of my jacket to wipe away my remaining tears and sat back down on the bench, waiting for him to reach me.
“Uh oh,” he said in a gentle, empathetic voice. “Rough morning?”
I gave him a sad, pathetic smile. “You could say that.”
Dexter sat down on the bench next to me, crossing his legs and wrapping one arm around me. “You know, the first week after a breakup is always the worst, don’t you think?”
I nodded in agreement but didn’t offer up a reply.
“The good news is that the week’s almost over. And if you make it through week one, then after that it’s just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other and finding a way to move forward to week three. You know as much as I do that each week the pain gets a little duller.”