The call would come, wouldn’t it? You told me. You promised me you’d be back and would see me again.
I waited for days, my cell phone always nearby, if not held nervously in my sweating palm. I jumped when it rang. I checked it constantly for missed calls. I turned the ringer to high on the landline phone in my apartment, checked more than once to make sure the voice mail worked properly.
And, as the days wore on, closer and closer to your Saturday night appearance at a club called Rat City in the downtown neighborhood of Belltown, I became more and more inconsolable, certain you were not going to call.
Had you forgotten me? Found someone else?
But then I would think back to the magical night we had shared and thought those things just weren’t possible. We had made a real connection, h
