I wonder what it would be like to finally make it out to America.

Would he still be waiting for me? It's been weeks, months, and every day I find myself submitting to this horrible nagging feeling deep inside me that I'm not quite sure will ever disappear. This shouldn't be what normal love feels like. It couldn't be. But maybe it just goes to show how much I do love Jacob.

Would I go back and stop myself from violating my green card and spending those two glorious months with the love of my life if I could? No, no I don't believe I would. I wouldn't take back those wonderful moments, not for the world.

We call each other sometimes, but we often miss one another by minutes, hours, days...because of the time difference. I know Jacob doesn't care much for London, but my parents are trying to get him to come out here. They can see how all this is affecting me. I miss him too much. When I hear his voice on my answering machine, I can tell he misses me too. I hope so, anyway. "Anna," he groans. "You're killing me here. I wish you were back. See you soon, though, I hope. I love you." Then he often sighs, a sad lament for our nearly-lost love, and then hangs up.

Sometimes I think about everything. When it gets to be too much, though, I start to write. I go to the pub with my friends when they see I'm sad as well. There are different guys, different boys who I know I could fancy if I really tried. I just don't feel too up to it. I just want my Jacob back.

We spent nearly every day together for three months, and I realized that I could not live my life without this person. Studying university in L.A. was the best and worst thing I could have done, really. I studied there, and then I met Jacob. But because I stayed there too long, I am being kept away from him. It's masochism in its purest form, I think. I could write a poem about it and send it to Jacob. He'd like that. Maybe he can somehow send me my chair. I miss that chair, the one he carved for me with his strong, sure hands. No one else has ever given me anything so wonderful. My writing chair, sitting idle, unattended in my L.A. flat. It pains me to imagine it, so tempting, so unused, so empty.

I don't know. I really don't know, don't know what will happen. But I am confident we will find each other again. That's how our love works. It's one of the oddest, most complicated yet most simple things in the whole world. Someday, things will sort themselves out and I will be in his arms again.

My phone beeps, bringing me out of my reverie. Jacob has left me a message. It must be so early there. Why is he awake?

"Anna..."

Oh, he's drunk.

"I just really have to tell you this, this one thing. it's very important. I love you, I fucking love you no matter what happens, okay? I'm going to hire one of the best lawyers in the country to sort out the whole student visa thing,"

Maybe not that drunk. It's just nice to hear his voice, nice to be reassured that he still cares for me as I care for him. A relief, maybe.

"...and then I get to keep you to myself again, right? Right. Don't worry. I'll see you soon. I think I'm going to fly to see you in a few days; I miss you so, so much. I love you."

My heart skips a beat for a second, and then I remember that no, hearts cannot skip beats. If they did I'd be dead. I'm just so happy. Jacob said he'd come to see me! Oh, I've got to tell Mum. She's going to be so pleased. I run screaming from my room, I don't care if it's one in the morning. What time is it, anyway?

"Mum! MUM! MUM!"

"What? What? What is it?"

My mother comes rushing out of her room, wrapping her bathrobe around herself, securing the terry cloth around her waist with the thick band roped through the belt loops. She rushes up to me, face flushed, and puts both hands on either side of my face. She breathes frantically in my face, frazzled, eyes moving everywhere. She is oblivious to my excitement, my happiness. I realize she thinks something is wrong, very wrong.

"God, dear God, Anna, what's the matter? What's got you screaming?"

"Jacob's coming," I state, in one breath, huff it out, sharing a moment of disbelief with my mother. Realization seeps in, visibly, and then I beam at her. She smiles back.

"Really? Oh darling, that's wonderful! When? Oh, I've got to get everything ready for him! This is so great! We finally get to see the fabled American for the first time in months!"

"Yes! He's coming! He's finally agreed to come! Oh, Mum, I'm so happy." I spin around and around in the hallway, luxuriously delirious.

Suddenly, my mother turns serious. "Do you love him?"

"Yes, Mum, yes I do."