Maybe, just maybe...

I came home from work tonight ready to call Grace again, going against the grain of normal "guy logic". Well, that is to say, my brain was ready to call her. Every other cell in my body was scared shitless. I decided to go out to dinner, you know, to buy myself some time. Don't wanna call too early, but don't want to call too late.

Dinner didn't afford me much opportunity to distract myself from "DEAR GOD WHAT AM I GONNA SAY???". As much as I was trying to focus on my enchilada platter, when a waiter dropped a large tray of dishes, breaking them all over the floor, and some patron yelled out, "Way to go there, grace!" All I could do was roll my eyes, look to the ceiling and mutter to myself, "Thank you, God, thank you so bloody much!"

I was asking for my check when my phone rang. Being a little too quick on the draw, I forgot to check the Caller ID. It was Grace, and she answered with a quiet "Uh...hi."

In hindsight, it was a wise choice that I opened my end of the conversation with a jovial "Well, Hi there!" Her mood lightened. We talked a bit about what we've been up to since, uh-hem, the incident. I was truthful, without playing up the depression angle, and without putting up too much of a strong front. I got a little more truthful once I got inside my apartment, away from the prying ears of the patrons of the restaurant and the neighbors out on their patio.

Grace said that Nicky's been talking about me a lot lately. He told her what I've said about her. That's what convinced her to call me, she said. By no means were my conversations with Nicky in the strictest confidence, but hey, a plug is a plug. I give him credit for giving fate a little nudge and convincing her to call me.

After a while, we were hitting a groove in the conversation...until it came to the heart of the matter. The Jeff Incident. Not one of my proudest moments, I said to her. In fact, it's tied for first with the first Jeff Incident ten years ago. What I ended up telling her was that what she saw was, sad to say, not me at my worst. Me at my worst was dealing with the thought that I had completely blown it with her, all because I let that asshole get under my skin.

I felt myself tearing up as I told her how truly sorry I was that I had hurt her. All I've ever wanted since we were kids was for her to see only the best of me. Unfortunately, I've always stumbled whenever I tried to put my best foot forward. I went on for at least fifteen minutes saying all these things that could've been summed up in "I'm so sorry."

When I finished there was a long silence before she asked, "Is that why you disappeared?"

I told her I was acting on my gut instinct. Running away, at least back in high school, seemed like the only choice that didn't dig me further into the hole I was in. I was embarassed, shamed, and alone in my pain. I asked her, "Even if I had stayed, would things have been different? Would I have had a chance in Hell? Would you have ended up with Jeff?"

No simple answers to any of those questions. In the time that I was away, Grace and I had a chance to learn lessons we wouldn't have learned otherwise. We both graduated from the school of hard knocks, majoring in different fields and even taking on some post-graduate work. We could go over the hypothetical situations all night, but it wasn't gonna get us anywhere. What's more important is where we go from here.

In the end, it was left at "You've got my number and I've got yours." I told her that I may make it back to Fort Smith to visit my grandfather. Maybe we could have lunch.

"Maybe." She said. "Just Maybe."