All of the options on how to approach Megan Alba Biel for the first time in nearly four years ran through my mind as I walked over to the Bath and Bodyworks she was working at in Independence Mall. My heart was pounding as I counted off the steps to get to her behind the counter. Before I could decide on which way I wanted to greet her, she looked up as saw me.
She ran from behind the counter and gave me a hug.
“Oh my goodness,” she said. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I live here,” I replied. “I mean, I live in Wilmington now… Not in the Mall,” my voice trailing as I tried to be humorous in the midst of my obvious awkwardness. Her beauty always seemed to leave me a bumbling idiot and at a loss for words.
She looked amazing, just as I remembered her. She was wearing a white t-shirt with a red and white checkered apron as part of her uniform. Her eyes were as light and full of life as I remembered them to be. Her skin was tanned from many hours on the beach (one of the perks from living in the Port City). Her smile was as warm and radiant as it was when we shared an impromptu lunch our senior year in high school.
“I saw you as I was walking by and wanted to stop in and say hello,” I said trying to seem cooler after my previous failed joke.
“I’m so glad you did,” she replied. “My sister said she talked to you a few months back, and that you were in town for an interview. I take it that you got the job?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ve been working at the radio station for a few months now. I love it there,” I said.
“That’s great,” she said.
Just then a lady interrupted our conversation to ask for help. I stepped away from the counter as Megan went to help her find something. I waited there for a few minutes, but could tell she was getting busy. I didn’t want to walk away and possibly not get the chance to talk to her again, but at the same time, it felt awkward just waiting at the counter of a store where obviously most men don’t shop.
I began to look around, trying not to look out of place when she came back over to talk to me again. As soon as our conversation started over, we got interrupted again by another customer.
“Hey, it’s obvious you’re busy. I’d better take off” I said.
“I’m so sorry, hang on one second… I’ll be right back,” she told before she took off again.
Once she was finished with helping the customer, she got a piece of paper from the cash register and started writing on it.
“Here is my number. Give me a call and maybe we can go out and catch up. Somewhere other than here,” She said.
“Sounds good” I said, trying to play it cool. “Great seeing you again Meg,” I said giving her another hug before leaving.
“You too,” she replied with a smile.
I resisted the urge to run out of the store jumping up and down like a baseball player who had just hit the winning homerun in the World Series.
I instead, tried to play it cool as I put the little slip of paper with her number on it deep in my right jeans pocket. I could not, however, hide the grin I had on my face once my back was turned away from her.
I walked back into the mall walkway, and reconnected with my friend Donna and her boyfriend who had come into town for a visit.
“Judging by the Chester Cat grin on your face, I assume everything went OK in there?” Donna asked me, well aware of my multi-year crush on Miss Biel.
“I’d say so.” I replied, pulling out the tiny piece of paper from my jeans pocket as if it were a piece of gold. “I got her number!” I said trying to contain the excitement in my voice.
I had to play it somewhat cool, I thought to myself. I didn’t want to rush home and call her that night. I needed to wait a day or two. So I kept her number in my jeans pocket.
That seemed like a good idea until I did laundry later the following night, and forgot to take the piece of paper out of my pocket. I realized this after taking the clothes out of the dryer and putting them away. I frantically took the piece of paper out to find that the last digit on her number had faded in the process.
Once I got over the anger of washing and somewhat ruining the piece of paper with her number on it, I took it as a sign that maybe I should go ahead and call her. I didn’t have the last digit, but I could still use the process of elimination. So I called every number configuration until I landed on the right combination. After many apologies for dialing the wrong number, I finally hit pay dirt…
“Hey, this is Megan. Sorry I missed your call, but if you’ll leave your name and your number… I’ll call you back,” the machine said.
I had gotten the right number, but hadn’t put too much thought into what I was going to say if the answering machine picked up. So, I promptly hung up the phone.
After putting about ten minutes worth of thought into it, and rehearsing a couple of times to myself… I redialed the number.
Again, the phone was ringing.
I became nervous she was going to answer the phone by the third ring (I hadn’t rehearsed what I was going to say in an actual conversation).
By the time the answering machine picked up after the fourth ring, I had forgotten what I had rehearsed beforehand. I didn’t want to hang up, so I just began talking.
“Hey Megan, this is Dave. It was great, um… seeing you the other day. I just wanted to give you a call and see if you were still interested in, um… catching up some time soon. Give me a call at…..” and I gave her my number.
I hung up feeling better that I had gotten around to calling. I began to replay every word I said in the message, hoping I didn’t sound like a total dork. The more I thought about it, the more nervous I became.
Finally I realized how silly I was being over the whole thing and decided to turn the TV on to distract myself. I watched TV for a few hours before heading out to work, all the while with my phone beside me on the couch. It didn’t ring.
Once I got home the following morning after leaving work and the gym, I rushed over to my answering machine to see if MAB had left a message. She hadn’t. It didn’t dawn on me that most normal people probably wouldn’t call someone between the hours of Midnight and 8am.
It was then that I decided that I should change the outgoing message I had on my machine to something clever, so if she were to call, it would be funny and somewhat cool. Girls like guys who are funny and somewhat cool.
After thinking about it long and hard for an hour or so, the best I could come up with was
“Hey what’s up? It’s Dave. I’m either not here or ducking your call. Either way, leave your name and number and I might call you back. Later.”
I was rather proud of that message. It was clever, sounded cool, and sounded completely like something I normally would NOT say.
I went to sleep for my mid morning and early afternoon slumber, but was awaken by the phone ringing. Anxiously wondering if it was Megan Alba Biel calling, I resisted the urge to run to the phone and answer it. I wanted her to hear my clever and cool message on the machine.
It rang four times. I heard my voice on the machine say – “Hey what’s up? It’s Dave. I’m either not her or ducking your call. Either way, leave you name and number and I might call you back. Later”
Then I heard the following message – “Hey, it’s your Mother. You’d better not be ducking my calls! What kind of message is that anyway?” She went on with the rest of her message. Apparently she didn’t find it as cool and clever as I did.
I got out of bed, ran errands all day and came home in hopes of seeing the red light on my answering machine blinking, but alas it was not.
I repeated the same pattern for about a week or so, until I gave up hope on her calling me back. Maybe she was just being nice in giving me her number, and she really had no intentions of calling me. I was disappointed, but too busy to dwell on it. It was summertime in the Port City, and work was much busier during tourist season.
Finally, one day after a long and hot Saturday of doing a live remote at a local car dealership, I made it home to my nice air conditioned apartment. I put my keys down on the coffee table and looked on the counter to see the red light blinking on my answering machine. I hit play and heard –
“Hey Dave, that’s quite the message on your answering machine. I hope you don’t duck my call. Sorry it took a while to call you back, but it’s been crazy at work. I would love for us to grab some lunch and catch up. Give me a call when you get this and we can work out the details. I can’t wait to see you.”
I didn’t hesitate to call her back. We agreed to meet at the Rock- Ola Café on College Blvd a couple of days later. The sense of euphoria filled my senses as I told her I was looking forward to it and hung up the phone.
I had a date with Megan Alba Biel!!
WAIT A MINUTE….
Was it a date?
Or was it just two old High School friends getting together for some lunch?
Was lunch even considered a ‘Date’?
Were we even considered ‘old High School Friends’?
What were we back then?
What were now?
What is it going to be?
Why was I over thinking this?????
Love Y’all
d
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