This is my colorful running saga of my reunion with my best friend.

CJ

Our Reunion

Part 4

   It's been two weeks since our last meeting. We haven't called each other, emailed or nothing. Of course I wonder if I had said something that had hurt or offended Marie. Hopefully not. Surely she would have said something. I'll call her today and find out.

 I can see it now, I'll call, she'll answer and I'll probably cry again without her knowing that I cry just because I hear her voice. That will be something I'll never let her find out about. I mean I've kept it a secret this long. Ten or twenty more years shouldn't matter. It's like our last meeting, I almost passed out when Marie asked me what she did. I had to say 'No' to her; jeez I wish I could of said yes. But we both know the timing isn't right for now. It may never be right. But I know that I'll dream about the 'What If' syndrome. I'm just glad with myself that I was man enough to say 'No'. I know I'll kick myself, but I'm still happy about it.

   Okay now, everybody look out. My mind is wondering again! Beep; beep; beep.

   Mine is a strange mind. I think I need a new one. Wonder if science has come that far? Ring, ring,"Ah, hello Doc. Yeah, I'd like to order a new brain. Yeah, one of those slightly unused brains with an IQ of about one-sixty or so. Yes, A younger one from a semi active male that prefers women. Yes; yes; ok; Oh; that much. Oh, ah, have you got a cheaper one from a teen that just plays with his self? No? Well, how about an older woman's after her monsterpausing cycle. Oh, just one left, from a ninety year old, African bush league lady. Could I get it with her memory in it? Doc, what do you mean I'd go crazy if you didn't erase it first? Doc. Doctor, kiss it".

   I still have to call Marie.

  "Maria, Maria, Maria". Done to the West Side Story Theme.             Thaaaaat.  (As I stick out my tongue and blow at my own singing. That's bad when you can't stand yourself singing. Oh well. A singer I am not. La la; la la, yuck.)

    Voice mail. Dammed. Marie, to bad your name wasn't Stephanie or something from the south like Lula Bell or something. Oh well. I still like your name. I won't tell you, but I get goose pimples every time I hear or say your name. I've got to stop that. And I know it. Oh well. My problem. Onward and forward or something like that. Yep. Yep.

    "Hello Marie, I just wanted to touch base with you and find out when and where we could meet again. I would like to suggest a ballroom style place. I'd love to dance with you before I can't dance anymore. Call me back and let me know. Oh, and I still don't like these voice mails. Later kid. Bye".

    Ok girl, now I'll wait for your call. Positive thinking. Yeah, think positive. 'Check your voice mail, check your voice mail'. Didn't work. Guess I need more practice at it. CHECK YOUR MAIL. CHECK YOUR MAIL. Damn, still don't work. Dammed.

    I'd really like to dance with her at least once. I can hope.

   Well, I have work to get done.  I hope she calls.

C.J.Beige

 11-4-08