On Second Thought

 

Photo credit: Robsalot (that's me!)

I would recognize that handwriting anywhere, the illegible scrawl that covered dozens of sheets of yellowed notebook paper that were still in the bottom of my closet. It could only belong to one person, my high school sweetheart. I never thought I would see that writing again, and certainly not on a loan application that had appeared on my desk at First National Bank in Galveston.

I peered at the form in disbelief. Obviously it couldn’t actually be him, it was just a coincidence. Eastern Texas was far from the California town we had grown up in, and the last time I had heard, from a friend of a friend, he had relocated to somewhere in England. I flipped over the form. Yup, sure enough, Ben Tsobanakis, but could it actually be? Well come Monday morning at 8 AM I would find out.

Of course the first thing I did when I got home that night was Google him, but the results were inconclusive, and his Facebook was set to private. I would just have to wait.

By the time Monday morning rolled around I’d imagined the rest of their lives together. He would walk in through the door, our eyes would meet, and we would suddenly be 18 again. We would laugh about fate, and then I’d have my co-worker take the rest of my clients for the day. We’d go to Pleasure Pier, eat cotton candy and ride the Ferris wheel… and live happily ever after.

I was lost in my daydream when I heard the buzz signaling the front door of the office had opened. My heart was racing as I slowly rose to my feet and peered over my cubicle wall. I couldn’t believe what I saw. That same sandy hair, those same brown eyes, that same smile. It was him, it really was him!

I popped up and quickly smoothed down my skirt, I started walking out of my cube, but then I thought better of it. It would be more surprising if he walked into my cube, and I nonchalantly looked up from my computer. I hurried over to my desk and sat down. That was when I heard it, a female voice, asking for me by name. I popped up from my cube again, and that is when our eyes met. Not the brown puppy dog eyes I was expecting, but the piercing blue eyes of some strange woman.

“Hi,” she said, “are you Sarah? I’m Shelly, my husband Ben is just in the restroom, but we have an 8 AM appointment with you.”

“Oh,” I stuttered, “yes, though actually I’m not feeling well, so my colleague Mark will help you today.”

I hustled her to Mark’s desk, he looked rather surprised as I hastily shoved Shelly into his cube before I bee-lined for the back door. I texted Mark to apologize as soon as I was safely hidden in my car. He sent me back a winkey face and texed “anything for you.”