Good Service #2 (a second entry into my diary)

“Hello, I’m trying to reach Nizana. Am I saying that right?”

“Yes, that’s me,” I said, thinking the man’s voice sounded familiar.

“Oh, good. I was nervous about calling,” he said.

What he didn’t realize was that I was nervous about getting his call ever since I wrote my number on his ticked with the note, “Please call me.” I was sure he thought here’s another crazy woman in her 40s with fantasies about meeting a younger man. He would have been right.

There was a awkward silence.

“Why did you call?” I said and then blushed feeling stupid. Another moment of silence passed.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called.”

“Oh no, I’m glad you did. You saw my note,” I blurted out fast and too loud.  

“Yes.  Em.  I wasn’t sure what the note meant, but wanted to call you and find out.”

Now what should I say?  I thought, there’s nothing to lose, but I immediately thought of the love I might lose if I follow this fantasy.

“Well, I’m 43, the mother of an adult daughter, divorced, and presently in a relationship. But when I saw you changing my tire and how kind and helpful you were, I wanted to know you better.”  There, it was out!

There was a pause.

“I hope you don’t think I’m an awful person.” I knew he could hear the shaking in my voice.

“No, of course not. I’m married so it feels awkward to be talking to you this way, but I still called.”

“Yes, this was a bad idea. I’m sorry I wrote that note on your ticket. Please accept my apologies.”

“No apologies needed,” he said lightly. “I think you’re beautiful lady. I wish we’d met three years ago when I was single.”

I laughed, “Me too.”  

“Well,” I said, and then no more words would come. “Good bye.”

“Good bye,” he said softly.