More Soap Opera Sunday excitement hosted by the inimitable Brillig. To read the rest of this week's posts, click here.
He’d been away for months. But I knew he was coming to town. Soon. Maybe yesterday. The waiting was killing me.
I drove to my grandma’s house after work. First thing, she asked me if I’d heard from Jeff. (She was a great conspirator. Like my best girlfriend, only with wrinkles and gray hair.) I explained wistfully that I expected to hear from him any day now, and she fed me lots of sugar, which seemed like a reasonable substitute.
The phone rang. A raspy voice that sounded for all the world like the old woman from On Golden Pond was on the other line. “Katherine Hepburn wants to talk to you, Grandma,” I quipped. She got off the phone and we laughed. “That was my friend Phyllis,” she said. “But she TOTALLY sounds like Katherine Hepburn, doesn’t she?” Grandpa thought it was funnier than anybody. I got the slightest impression that he wasn’t too fond of Grandma’s friend Phyllis.
The phone rang again. I decided to let Grandma pick it up this time. “There's Katherine, calling you back...”
“Hello?” She said sweetly. (She did EVERYTHING sweetly). Grandpa and I wiggled the skin in front of our vocal chords, impersonating an aging Katherine Hepburn from the other room. Grandma came into the kitchen and shushed us: “It’s for CHARRETTE” she said, with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye.
“No way,” I said. “I am NOT talking to your friend Phyllis.”
“But it’s not Phyllis,” she protested. “It’s HIM.”
Oh my gosh! It was Jeff? Calling me here? How in the world did he track me down at my Grandma’s house? The guy must be psychic! Or better yet, determined. I ran to the phone. He was in town (!) and wanted to meet me at my house in fifteen minutes. Grandma squealed with joy. I gave her a big squishy hug and jumped in my car.
All this emotion and anticipation welled up in me as I drove across town. I stopped at the light on Seventh East and spontaneously burst into applause -- literally clapped my hands for joy at the thought of seeing him again.
At last I was nearly home. As I rounded the corner and the Celica sped toward Princeton Avenue, I saw Jeff’s beloved white Subaru, headed East on Princeton. We literally got to the intersection at EXACTLY the same time. We both stopped, right there in the middle of the intersection (okay, I'll admit it was NOT too busy) and jumped out of our cars and ran to each other and threw our arms around each other and kissed -- right there in the middle of the street!
I may not have the kind of femme fatale looks that could stop traffic, but that first kiss on our home turf definitely did!