We wake late. I can't seem to muster any aggrieved feelings about the previous evening. I make coffee and breakfast for Marco with a surprisingly sympathetic spirit. We talk a bit more about what happened. I am still not sure that the level of anger I experienced was triggered entirely by his actions that night. I know that I am in a fragile state at the moment. I am reshaping myself. I have deliberately destroyed many of the foundations for my self-esteem through this move. I have no pat answers for the questions people ask me. I don't have a job, I'm not looking right now and I don't know what I'll be doing in the future. I am no longer an academic researcher, I am not a student, I have no place in a corporate hierarchy. I am in limbo. My footing is uncertain. I am in the process of proving to myself that I can make friends, lively and stimulating conversation, and do creative work that can attract other people's attention in places other than the customary outlets of science. I don't expect to reach a conclusive, static state any more than I ever did previously. It's just that I've never tried it after moving several thousand miles away from my native habitat.
The only person that gives me a sense of familiarity right now is Marco. He is my anchor, and I am frightened at my need for his presence. I am scared of losing him. I do not think I wanted to admit to it fully.