It was bound to happen. I could only hold out for so long.
I’ve been restless all day. Checking my e-mail and phone messages constantly. Running to the mailbox like it was Christmastime and I was expecting presents. Feeling so fidgety and antsy I couldn’t sit still.
He’d only said—oh so casually--that he’d be in touch. He’d never said when, exactly.
Late that afternoon, I had a million other things going on. I was out of breath and frazzled and practically barked into the phone, something I never do.
So of course it was him on the other end, sounding bemused. I swear I could feel his smirk through the phone lines.
“Is that you?”
He brushed off my stammered apology with grace.
“I’m catching you at your work, I know. This is late notice—I’ve been scurrying all day myself—but I have some time open next week and I'll be in town. I was hoping we could get together.”
He actually did sound hopeful. Like he didn’t know all he had to do was ask. Like there weren’t sparks coming through the phone lines, up my arm, right into my ear, right now just from the sound of his voice.
Like after all this time he still couldn’t quite believe us either.
“Oh, I think we could make that happen…”
I checked the clock when we hung up. We’d been less than a minute on the phone.
Antsy to aching anticipation in under sixty seconds. Amazing.
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