“I’ve never been so happy and so sad at the same time in all my life,” I told my best friend.
She had listened to me talk nonstop about meeting Ian, about making love with Ian, about Ian’s flower sending abilities and about how sure I was that Ian was my soul mate for days. The consummate friend, she had commiserated with me tirelessly. And now she offered some advice.
“Go see him,” she said abruptly as I was lamenting his departure for Australia in the next few days.
“What?” I replied, dumbly.
“Go see him. Before he’s out of the country,” she explained.
“You mean like tomorrow?”
I don’t know why I hadn’t already thought about dropping everything and flying to see him before he left the country. I was ready to quit my job and move to Australia if he asked, so this would be small in comparison. But most of all I wanted the chance to be in his arms again, to feel his breath on my body, to know for sure that what I had experienced, felt, believed was real.
“Oh my gosh. I could make this happen,” I said, disbelief rapidly dispersing.
We hung up and I immediately began looking up flights. Eighteen minutes and $387 later I had a round trip ticket that would give me two more nights with Ian. It was only after I booked it that it occurred to me that I hadn’t discussed the trip with Ian himself.
I did it. I texted my friend. Now I just have to tell HIM.
It will be fine. She texted. Now go pack!
That night the chime of Ian requesting to video chat pinged on my computer and with a conditioned response Ivan Pavlov would be proud of, my heart rate increased.
“Hello my beautiful Marian,” Ian said as soon as I answered.
“Hi!!!” I chirped, “You’ll never guess what I’m doing.”
“Tell me!” he grinned, catching my excitement.
“Packing? Where are you going?”
“To see you,” I said, and then held my breath for his response?
“What?!? Are you serious?! When?!!!”
“Yes, I’m serious. And I really hope you aren’t mad. I leave in the morning.”
“Mad? No! This is wonderful! When do you land?”
I told him and we finished up our conversation in a flurry, making arrangements. My heart was taking flight.