We met when I was finishing my undergrad at Boston College and he was in his final year of law school there. I had been stood up; thankfully, at a coffee shop in Harvard Square by a boy I really had no interest in knowing. A silly, but brilliant, man who would one day achieve great accolades and prizes. All to which would still bring no attraction for me. I had only agreed to meet him to get my roommate off of my back for not leaving the campus in far too long. I stood and waited for what seemed an eternity, watching the afternoon turn to evening in the square. Luckily for me, there was a never-ending parade of visual interests for my amusement. I decided to not waste my night out and enjoy watching the array of characters that walked the streets of the infamous Harvard Square. The hippies, the punk rockers, the hip hop hopefuls spitting lyrics like rain. If nothing else, it might give me some ideas for another short story. When I placed my notebook on the metal table and reached for my purse, my tea was toppled and the luke, warm liquid drenched my sacred notebook. “SHIT!”, I yelled and reached to grab the now empty cup. My loud profanity caught the attention of many including a tall, dark-haired man with penetrating, hazel eyes. “Do you need some more napkins?” He asked as he handed me one from his lap. Feeling adequately pissed and embarrassed, I thanked him and began sopping up the chamomile tea that dripped from the corners of my creative outlet. Those eyes! Wow! I had a hard time not glancing over to meet them again. “Will it live, or have you thoroughly drowned it?” He coyly said. His smile even bigger now, made it near impossible to resist flirting back. “Sorry Doc, I think it’s a goner!” As am I! “What is such a pretty and clumsy girl doing out here alone on a Friday night?” “Just taking it all in” I replied with blushing cheeks. Little did he know “it all” at the moment was him! Before we knew it, three hours had passed with us laughing, talking and amusing ourselves with the many faces and hair colors that passed us by in front of Au Bon Pain. “I’d say I hate to cut this short, but short I hardly think it has been! Unfortunately, I have a paper I haven’t even started yet that’s due on Monday.” I hated to leave, but the ten-page paper I had to write was beginning to distract me. “Well, at least let me walk you to your car.” He said while reaching out his hand. My, my, gorgeous, funny, smart and a gentleman, too! I placed my hand in his and we walked the brick sidewalks to where my car was parked only a few blocks from the Charles River. “Well, this is me.” I sadly said as I reached for the keys to my old, but trusty blue Buick Skylark. Whenever I drove through the city the guys on the corners would quickly rush off until they realized that although the car looked to be undercover, I did not. He paused for a moment and I was hoping to see if his kiss would be as enchanting as the night had been. “I know you need to go, but my favorite walking bridge is just around the corner. The moon looks amazing from it. So, how about a quick stroll over it and then I promise I will safely place you in your car.” Now how could I resist that invitation! Maybe it was a line, but I didn’t care and it worked! He was right, the moon was amazing and he did safely return me to my car. I was right; it was the most enchanted kiss I had ever been given. He called the next night and that was the beginning of a relationship that has continued for the past seven years.
The traffic started to slow and thicken. It seemed every drive in the city was a new and different experience with the notorious “Big Dig” constantly rerouting traffic. I often wondered if the constant rerouting was someone’s way of having fun, and if they sat somewhere and laughed at our frustration while we drove in circles. I decide to exit the high way and snake my way through the streets of Dorchester to my apartment in Jamaica Plain. The oppressive, summer heat penetrated the air conditioning in my car. A cool shower will be first in order as soon as I arrive home. Maybe Justin left me a message at home? Why is it when I really need him, he’s not there? Much like the day I was told that my editorial column was being cut from the Boston Herald. I had been hoping to be picked up by the Boston Globe anyway, but it was still a disappointment that his hug would have eased. He couldn’t get himself out of the client dinner he had scheduled that evening. I always understood and put his work before me, as had he. Here we are now at a time that I have never needed him more, and again he is unavailable. This is what Daddy had warned me of. He told me years ago that Justin was a driven man and I would have to accept that his work would ALWAYS come first. This time, I don’t know if I can accept it.
72 Hours 