That's how it started. We worked close to the mall, so we started meeting everyday for lunch. It was great talking to somebody about the excruciating pain that comes with watching your love, your dreams, your future, your heart sift through your fingers like sand. No, like ashes.
It didn't start out as love. We were there for each other. Friends. We didn't have the same things in common. I'm Methodist. She's Baptist. I have a tattoo of a cross and "You are my hiding place" on my arm, and she's scared of needles. I like to drink every now and then, and she thinks alcohol in any form's bad. We're opposites. But one day I looked at her and noticed that my heart was healed. I looked down at my sandwich and when I looked back at her beautiful blue eyes, I saw the same realization in her face.
But we still didn't think about dating. Then one day my office decided to relocate. I wouldn't be working near the mall anymore. When I saw her for lunch that day, I told her I would be working on the other side of town. Not too far, but far enough away that I couldn't have lunch everyday with her anymore. So we agreed that each day, we would take 45-minute lunches. Then on each Tuesday either I would drive to Winrock Mall on her side of town or she would drive to Cottonwood mall on mine. Funny. We'd been there for each other for three months. Through her ex trying to get back with her and me demanding that she forgive but move on. Through me getting a restraining order against my ex because she wouldn't leave me alone. She didn't understand that I can't be her friend after being that close to her.
It wasn't until her company had her work through lunch for two weeks that I noticed how much I missed her. The next time I saw her, I was going to suggest we date. I didn't get the chance to say it because her lips were too tightly stuck on mine.
We've been dating since then, oh, about four months ago. We were already very close, we just needed a little push from each other. When we got it, we fell very fast and very far. We still try to meet for lunch on Tuesday. I can't believe I did it. Here I am, Friday night, waiting for her to show up. She and I were supposed to meet here for dinner because it was a year ago that she sat down next to me during lunch. What if she got scared off? Why did I have to do it? All I can think is she's not ready. Or she thinks I'm not ready. Why isn't she here? She has never been late. I know I tossed everything away. Too soon.
To conclude in His Perspective, part 3
- I once got paid to spend the summer telling lies to little kids. I ran a mountain man program at a district Boy Scout camp. I told my guests I was born in my log cabin and I traded for everything I had. Late evenings I shot muzzleloader rifles with campers and then told ghost stories around the fire. Oh, how I wish that would pay enough to be my career instead of just a one-time summer job.