i saw him the morning i left for michigan. at the airport. at my gate. i dragged my heavy feet over to the counter when i heard my name.
"christine," he said.
i heard it but i just assumed it was for someone else. he appeared before my eyes and said my name again. "christine."
my eyes focused on his face and my memory slowly pulled him from the back of my mind. it was jason.
i used to have such a crush on him, i thought, as he gave me a hug hello. on the eve of my 21st birthday we fell asleep in the hotel hot tub, my head on his shoulder. my friends had thrown me a party, and a bunch of us had hopped inside with our bottles of bass in hand. we were fully clothed and there was no water inside: we were, of course, drunk.
what are you doing where do you live do you see anyone from school? he asked.
out here web stuff yes sometimes, i said.
he filled me in on his life: a sports journalist for a major network, lives nearby and on his way to, god, i forgot where. he looked exactly the same. big bright eyes and every hair in place. the smile so bright you know it belongs on tv.
"we should get together," he said and handed me his business card. teeth twinkling.
"sure," i said, nodding and accepting his hug, but still holding the card awkardly in my hand. his business card, he did not really give me his business card, did he?
i didn't know what to do with it, so i slipped it in the first slot in my wallet and slid it back in my bag. and that's where it still sits, the card, his number, his twinkly, colgate smile. if anything, it's a constant reminder that i should really clean out my wallet.