I woke up in a sweat. I had been dreaming about Cosima again. It was the kind of dream that left a hunger inside me, one that didn't originate in my stomach but somewhere deep inside my chest. It was the kind of hunger that I felt from my abdomen to the roof of my mouth, the kind of hunger that ached and could not be stretched out or shaken away easily.

I sat up in my bed and reached for my phone, turning it on, finding Cosima's name, typing out my frustration as fast as my sleepy fingers could go, and then reading her last text and remembering that she was on a plane, on her way to one of those states in the middle of the country that I couldn't remember the name of, on her way to spend the holidays with her family.

At the moment, my girlfriend was completely unreachable, and my hunger, completely insatiable.

"Merde!" I said to the darkness.

I went to the bathroom to get a drink and to splash some water on my face. I turned the light on, and was surprised at my own reflection. My skin was dry and there were dark circles under my eyes, the results of too many restless nights. I took a long drink, gulping the water down until I was breathless.

"This is killing me," I said to myself.

Myself looked back at me in sympathy, but there was nothing we could do. Well, there was one thing we could do.

I sighed and looked at my reflection's hands, leaning on the cool countertop. I looked at my own shoulders and chest, at the curve of my own breasts, which showed through my t-shirt. No, Cosima's t-shirt. I turned my chin to the left and to the right, imagining Cosima's hands wrapping around me from behind. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, almost feeling her up against my back, almost hearing her breath, catching a whiff of that baby powder smell that still rose up from her t-shirt. I pushed my hips against the counter and leaned some more, until I was nearly bent over.

I leaned right into my glass, sending it rolling across the counter, splashing water all over the front of myself. I jumped back, catching the glass and the surprised look in my reflection's face. We both laughed.

"I guess it's just you and me tonight," I said. "Again."

My reflection sighed. "Merde!"

This kind of night had become my usual. Even though it had been more than five months since I left San Francisco, even though I was up to my eyeballs in work, racing to meet deadlines on my thesis, even though I kept myself busy, working myself into the ground, hoping that exhaustion would be enough to put me into a dreamless sleep, even despite all of that, I still dreamed of Cosima, almost every night.

In the first few weeks, I was grateful. I would wake up and let myself linger in the lovely aching of my body and heart, and dream of the day when I could return to her little Christmas apartment in San Francisco and share that bottle of Alpha Omega that I had left behind. After all, she had promised not to open it without me.

And it was all set. I already had my ticket for December 20th. I was on track to jet across the Atlantic to America - America being San Francisco, because as far as I was concerned, that city contained the entirety of things that mattered to me in the entire country. We were supposed to spend Christmas together.

But then, life has a way of pulling you along at unexpected angles.

I got an offer, an opportunity that I couldn't resist.

My professor, white-bearded and rosy-cheeked, made the offer while I was sitting in his office. We had just finished up reviewing the last notes of my thesis project, and he set the papers neatly in my manila folder, sliding it across the desk toward me purposefully.

"Now then," he started as he crossed his hands in front of himself. "About this winter holiday. Do you have plans?"

"Yes!" I said, slipping the file into my briefcase. "I'm going to California!"

"California? Really?" he said. He smiled like he was happy for me, but the tone in his voice could only be described as disappointed. "Wow. That's really something. Do you have family there?"

"Well, no," I said, unsure how I should label Cosima. "Not really. I'm visiting a friend. A very good friend."

"That's unfortunate," he said, tapping his index fingers on his desk.

"Why?" I said.

"Because I'm going to Kenya this holiday," he said. "I'm going with the people from End 7. You're familiar with the organization?"

"Yes, of course," I said. "End 7 is a non-profit organization that aims to irradicate seven diseases from the planet by 2020, "

"Yes, that's the one," he said. "Anyway, I was invited to tag along to see the work they are doing down in Kenya, and they said I could bring an associate with me."

"Uh-huh," I said, already knowing where this conversation was going, and already knowing the decision that was waiting just up ahead.

"And," he continued, "With all the work you have been doing on host-parasite relationships, I thought you'd be an excellent candidate. So what do you say?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said. "The perfect candidate? Me?"

"Unless you can think of someone better," he said, standing up and circling around to the front of the desk.

"No, no," I said. "I can't think of anyone better. It is a wonderful opportunity. Perfect, actually. It's just, I've already made arrangements."

"Look," he said, reaching his hand out toward me. "You're my first choice, but there is no pressure. I'll send over the trip itinerary and you can look it over, see if it fits in with your plans."

"Yes, that's a good idea," I said, standing up and shaking his hand.

How am I going to tell Cosima? I thought.

"Mademoiselle Cormier," he said, leading me to the door. "You've done good work this term. You should feel proud of yourself. This trip would just be the icing on the cake of an already great year."

She is going to be so disappointed.

"Yes," I said, following him but not really listening to what he was saying. "Thank you."

"Good. Get a good night's rest," he said, leading me to the door. "And let me know your decision a little later in the week."

Maybe there's still a chance, I thought. Maybe I can do both.

"Yes, I will," I said, but my mind was racing with the possibilities, both good and bad.

Then he closed the door behind me, leaving me standing in the hallway, a baffled expression on my face, like a computer that does not compute, until another woman passed by and asked if I was okay. I smiled and said I was, but there was a knot forming in my stomach, an ache forming in my chest, because I already knew what my decision would be.

Ever since I broke the bad news to Cosima, though; ever since I told her I wouldn't able to share that bottle of cabernet sauvignon this Christmas; ever since she looked down at her hands and got real quiet and still, so still that I thought my webcam had frozen; ever since she looked up at me and smiled, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes and then shaking her head, as if rejecting her own disappointment, as if saying no to her own sadness; ever since she promised me it was okay, we could meet in the Spring and the weather would be better anyway; ever since then, I haven't had a single, good night's sleep.

Most nights, like that one, I would wake up with the image of Cosima's lips burned onto the insides of my eyelids, so that I could still see her above me in the dark. Then I'd second guess myself. Then I'd text her ask if I was making the right decision.

"This is a great opportunity," she'd write. "This is what you have been working toward for forever! I can't let you miss it. You're totally doing the right thing!"

"Then why don't I dream of Kenya?" I'd write. "Why do I only dream of you?"

Then she'd send me an emoticon or a picture of herself and say something cheesy like, "Because I'm dreamy."

It went like that for three weeks, me freaking out, and her reassuring me, and then me wondering why she was the one doing all the reassuring. When did I turn the tables on her?

But at that moment, she was on an airplane, on her way to her aunt's house where she said she would be M.I.A. for a few days. And at that moment, I was laying on my bed, my shirt wet and my body aching, looking forward to tomorrow, because she promised that no matter what family dramas or crises that may be going on around her, she would find a webcam, she would log on to skype and we would open the gifts we had mailed to each other. It would be our own international Christmas, a few days early, but still, our very own.