April 1990
She clutched his hand to her heart. She squeezed it tightly in both of her hands, as if to break his fingers, as she was now breaking his heart.
"Even if I don't see you again..." she had said.
He looked up in despair and gulped back the tears that welled suddenly in his watery blue eyes. He stood high above her, taller even than his friends who stood beside him near the dance floor.
She clutched his hand to her chest and closed her eyes. She must have said a little prayer.
Even if I don't see you...she imagined, far away in the future, on a cold May or June morning, the sailor towering over her in a white uniform and the striking white chief's hat, as she clutched his fingers and closed her eyes.
"Hello, can I have Mike's correct address?" she requested in her most deeply professional voice that she could muster.
"Yes, wait a minute." The young girl laughed softly. Seconds later, she answered the question.
"Would you also like his phone number?" The accent was unmistakeably Massachusetts, the voice deeper now, with four years of maturity. Not to mention a much friendlier manner.
"Sure. Thank you very much."
A bonus now thrown into the picture, she dialed his number. 804. Virginia. How would she explain that to her parents? Well, it would just have to wait. She had to act now after they had just left for dinner.
A high pitched voice answered the phone after the first ring, and she asked for Mike.
