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There are three distinct moments in our time together when I think about the freckle behind your ear.

The first time I thought about the freckle behind your ear was when you sat in front of me in class. You didn’t know I existed then. The only things that existed in your world were the flowery words being shouted in front of us and the lengthy paragraphs that flooded your phone every ten minutes from someone you never like to talk about. I made sure to bring my glasses to this lecture because I’m as blind as a bat and didn’t want to endure another class period scribbling words in the dark. I am not the tallest thing in the world. Perhaps one of the smallest, and you chose to sit directly in front of me. You hadn’t sat in that seat before last class. Sitting down in front of me isn’t what made me pay attention to you, by the way. You holding the door for everyone is what made me take a good look at you. Even if it was only a brief look as I quietly whispered thank you while passing you by. Of course, you didn’t hear me, though.

I was expecting everyone to follow the unspoken assigned seat rule, but the majority of the left side of the class was gone, and I was sure that maybe you had sat on that side before. Perhaps you didn’t. While pulling out my notebook and greeting my desk mate, I could hear the clink of the classroom doors shut and the swift motion of your dirty Nikes across the carpet. I always wonder why lecture halls are floored with carpet. It seems like it would be a pain to vacuum every night. I hadn’t looked up yet from pulling notebooks and whatnot out of my bag. I got a good whiff of your cologne as you swiftly glided into your seat. Cucumber soap and a light scent of some musky cologne are what filled my nostrils. I’m not sure if anyone else smelled it, but I did because I pay attention to these things. 

As our professor spoke, I couldn’t wholly concentrate on her words. Your broad but boney shoulders and lengthy neck were dead smack in my way of seeing the PowerPoint. It didn’t matter which way I leaned. Some way, somehow, you were always dead smack in the middle of my line of sight. You always are, quite literally and metaphorically. Unable to make the best of this circumstance, I decided to take the auditory method and write directly from our professor. I’m not sure why I didn’t just tap you and ask you to move to the side a little. Who am I kidding? You and I both know why. Any opportunity that required me to make too many interactions with the opposite sex and I would always find some way to stay clear of it. Just until I couldn’t any longer or the coast was clear. You never know with men. 

While alternating between listening and writing, I found my eyes wandering to the back of your head. I tried very hard not to look in case someone from afar noticed, but I was bored. I have always thought the way a guy’s hair is cut was very interesting. A lineup could do so much. It could make or break an appearance and especially the back of ahead. Or maybe I’m just a weirdo who likes to look at the back of people’s heads. The back of your head was nicely lined up. Your hairline falls into a V into the nape of your neck in the same way mine does. The very, very thin gold chain that rests on your neck has always been a nice touch. It is so thin that it is almost impossible to see if it weren’t for the light that oddly enough was shining right down onto you. You were wearing a nice crisp and clean white t-shirt. It fit you nicely. But it was back up to your ears where my eyes fell. 

I have made it a point to put the different small qualities of people I like to deep dive into in the back of my head. I had my glasses on today, so I was more than prepared to see any and everything. On the back of your ear, I zeroed in on a tiny brown freckle. Why was I able to notice this small minor thing about you when you probably didn’t know it was there either. That’s just how we are, though. I’m always pointing out the not so easily visible things about you, leaving you at a loss for words because that’s just the kind of person I am. 

I found myself staring at that freckle every class and wondering if it would disappear. And somehow, even now, I felt like my knowledge of the existence of the freckle made me somehow closer to the deeper, darker part of you that you only let out in non-verbal notions and gestures. A part of you that only I will ever be a part of.

The second time I thought about the freckle behind your ear was while you were sleeping. We had gotten into a very heated argument, and you were a lot crueler this go around. To my surprise, I had pointed out a minor observation, and I guess it was a trigger for you. I didn’t think I worded anything rudely or passive-aggressively, but I don’t think it would have mattered anyway. You had been bothered by something else all day. You were like a teapot ready to boil over, and any word, look, or gesture would have tipped you over. That day I was just the last straw for you unknowingly. Oh, how we argued and argued and argued because I can never get the last word if I’m furious, and neither can you. At some point, it felt as if we were just shouting out obscurities until whichever one of us broke. I did. I just can not handle arguments. After a while, I just want to run away and hide. Anything is better than yelling out feelings for an hour. I never fully understood how my responses of walking away hurt you deeply. Unknowingly, that was a trigger too. I guess this day was just a letting out of the catalysts for you. I turned away from you and immediately felt the fear that churned inside of you fill the atmosphere. I could feel the inside of you calling for me not to leave because you were just scared and sad and angry and a whole lot of other things. I still needed to hide, though, just for a little while.

Hours later, you found my hiding spot. All you could do was slump down the door frame. We sat quietly as you very quietly wept. Careful not to wipe at your face because it would be evident that you were hurting and afraid to cry. And I let you cry like the unlicensed therapist for you I always am. Like a basic instinct, I reached over to hold your hand. I was giving you an invite to throw your problems down on me even though you made me feel as if I was your biggest one just a couple of hours ago. Immediately in my arms, you fell, curling up to me and wrapping around me like a grandmother’s old quilt. You buried your face into me, begging for me to solve all your problems and guilt and shame and defeat. Willingly, you know I am obedient and always will be, but some demons are beyond my exorcism. 

That night I watched the ins and outs of your shaky breath as you slept. You always preferred me pressed up against your back and wrapped around you with my arm tucked under yours and holding your hand while you dreamt of better days peacefully. Again I found myself staring at the freckle behind your ear. Today you had made me very angry, but there that freckle was reminding me once again that you are not always easy but that there was a tiny ounce of something worth holding onto if I just would please, please, please never let you go. 

The third and last time I thought about the freckle behind your ear was when you said goodbye. Goodbyes are indeed sad, but that doesn’t mean they are always painful. Goodbye, for now, doesn’t always mean goodbye forever, and for us, I know it wouldn’t be forever. We love each other too much to live an eternity without one another.  You had decided it was finally time to deal with your demons, and I had passed down to you all my strength to exorcise them on your own. You were finally strong enough to do it independently, and I could only bid you happy hunting. We hugged and kissed one another for a long time. Why are we like this when it comes to love? It’s not as if we were saying goodbye forever but just one minute without another felt like the cruelest punishment ever given in the history of all punishments. We stayed draped around one another for such a long time that I thought maybe you would take back your decision, but you did not falter. You and I desperately needed a break from one another and a chance to remember what it was like before now. I needed an opportunity to remember what it was like before staring at that freckle behind your ear. 

You still check in with me now and then. Wondering if I’m okay or if I’m happy, and of course, I ask you the same. And actually, I am happy. I forgot what it felt like to be me and to exorcise my emotions. 

“I miss you, you know that?” you always tell me. And you are more than aware I miss you too. More than anything, but it feels really good to be by myself for once. It feels good to remember what the scent of me even smells like. It feels good to just be here at this moment and only me. I am sure you feel the same. Right now, we need this. We need this moment without co-dependency. 

I think about that freckle behind your ear often, but I do not miss it, for there will be many more freckles on you for me to discover.

Old ones, new ones, and tiny, tiny ones that haven’t fully grown yet. So it is okay for you to miss me because, of course, I miss you too, freckle.