Sunday

D-Hour (9/13/08 Saturday)*

It didn't happen Thursday. There just wasn't a natural chance. Hinckley pointed out to me that Julie and I shared a shelving hour at six, so I set my sights on that. It wasn't my ideal, stalking her in the stacks (Hinckley likened it to chasing down an ice cream truck), but I prepared myself with a negativity-chasing line from Gang of Four's "Guns Before Butter": "Just keep quiet, no room for doubt." I consciously triggered it whenever my imagination presented my mind's eye with, uh, less-than-optimum-case scenarios. The line played almost incessantly.

But by six Tammy had posted Friday's schedule, and there it was:
11:00
Julie--D
Dion--D
An hour on the desk with Julie! This was the hour!

I didn't sleep well, of course. I fitfully overslept the alarm and still found myself on the sofa ready to go with a half-hour to kill after breakfast before I set out for Hinckley's for the ride in. I watched an episode of Black Adder and trod off, nervous but happy and strong of resolve. It would happen today, before lunch (which I might not be able to eat). On the way in Hinckley pumped me up with his own ebullient confidence. After I walked in the door I don't know what I did before eleven, besides chant my mantra, which, by now, was able to trigger itself.

Julie was close on my heels as I made for the desk. Upon her offer of my choice of seats, I took the far one, for the aforementioned advantages. She immediately brought up her work email to check. I decided to wait until she would no longer be distracted. Between that and a few patrons, it was nearly half-past before I saw my chance, and I didn't hesitate. Turning to her, I said, "Julie?" My voice, to my own ears, sounded smooth and low. I was pleased with its timbre. "Yes," she replied before looking up at me. She was still sitting, I standing, leaning against the narrow counter between our stations. Her eyes grabbed me, held me softly in their expectation, as if knowing what I was about to say. I nearly forgot the only words I'd scripted for the moment, but I pushed through, ignoring all doubt--without the help of the mantra. "Would you...consider...meeting me...somewhere, sometime...for a cup of tea, say?" Briefly, as I struggled to recall the right words, I lost eye contact, but regained it as I finished the last word. Without hesitation, she replied, "Yes, I would." "Oh, good," I said, as if fireworks hadn't just exploded in my chest. "Mmm," she murmured, "tea." "I have a favorite place," I told her, straightening bookmarks on the ledge between us and grinding a shoe-toe into the carpet. "Stir Crazy on MacArthur." She knew where it was, but when I asked her if she could do it the next day, she cited a family visit and homework. "Give me a couple hours," she said, "to think about it."

Hinckley was our backup. The moment Julie became occupied with a patron I stole to his station. Making sure only he could see me, I pumped a fist and mouthed "Yes!" and turned back to the desk. I felt no nerves whatsoever around Julie, and she seemed a bit less reserved herself, even asking me a couple questions on the desk. But it wasn't until we had left the building at the end of the day that we were alone together again. Hinckley discreetly continued to the car as I hung back to hold the door for Julie, the last one out. "So," I said, "is it going to happen tomorrow?" "No," she replied, reiterating her obligations. I didn't conceal my disappointment. "We could do it Sunday," she offered. "No," I said, "we can't. I'll have the kids." "Do you have them every weekend?" "Yeah. Saturday evening to Sunday evening." "Oh." By the time we got to her car, we'd established that the next work week was out. "What about Friday? You're off then, " I said. She replied, "I'm going out of town." I threw my head back and puffed a great sigh. Julie offered consolation to the effect of "It'll happen." "I know, but it took me so long--both fists pumping with each word--"just to get up the nerve to do this!" and I laughed at the sky. Julie had a laugh, too. "Well," she said, "think about it," and slid toward the car door. "Okay," I said. "See ya." "See ya."

So, here I am, two weekends and a work week from Julie, and at least another week from a "date." I suppose I'm glad I'm off next week: It might seem a cruel tease to work with her all week knowing there was no pot of gold at the end of it. But I did it, didn't I? Finally, after nearly four months of self-imposed torment. And, you know what? It was worth it!

*Original Comment(s)
Lonesome Loser said...
Good for you, you did it! I haven't read the entire blog yet, so I don't know how the story ends, but at least you asked and got an answer instead of just thinking about it...

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