Memoir - Week 10
My car gently rolled up under a parking lot
lamppost at Erin’s university residences. We were nestled in a fog and the
lamppost sent out a warm glow. I felt like I was in a dream.
Below the waistline it was rock hard and
throbbing, cramped and bursting under blue denim. The car windows were almost
completely fogged over from our breathing together, our lips and tongues busy. As
difficult as it was for me, no matter where my blood rushed to in
concentration, I knew tonight was not that sort of night.
After quite some time in my car and a final
goodbye, I and a belly full of butterflies and good feelings floated along the
empty road home and into bed. When I awoke my stomach was still a butterfly
house.
Should
I call her? Is she interested in seeing me again? I’m pretty sure she’d be
happy to get a call from me…
Damn
answering machines...Don’t hang up! Leave a message…Oh, God, you sounded
awkward – typical of you. Hope she calls back. Or I can try again…Yeah.
Sunday, 18 May, 2003. I don’t remember the
time of day. I picked up my chunky landline and pressed all the digits of her
phone number that I’d made sure to get on the Friday night. I left a message.
After leaving a message I busied myself around the apartment, hoping that
either Erin would return my call or that I would eventually catch her later
during the day. Calling the very next day after we met seemed a little overly
eager. Sunday was a safer bet I decided.
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