I’m sitting at my table, browsing the Internet and waiting for him to call and tell me he’s downstairs. My stomach and my thighs feel tense and my lips are pursed and my jaw stiff. I can see myself from the outside but I still cannot relax. I am so afraid of a tragedy I think it would take a miracle to avoid it, with my strong attraction force.
What if he changes his mind? This is his first time too and he is clearly uncomfortable and weird about he whole thing. What if my first Valentine’s date ever doesn’t even happen…
Then I hear something at the window and I think some snow must have fallen off the roof down on the terrace below. And then I hear it again, a little stronger. And again, much stronger. I start thinking the radiator might be slowly and almost quietly exploding, piece by piece. So I reluctantly get up and, before I get next to the window, I have this whole film in my head about hot water splashing everywhere and pieces of radiator metal stuck in my flesh and my first Valentine’s Day date ever fucked. (Perfect word choice, I know.)
I get to the window, grab the curtain and pull it away from the radiator to check it out. I am looking down and, from the corner of my eye, I see movement downstairs, in front of the terrace. I look up and see him waving at me.
I start laughing. I know now his phone is dead and realize he’s been throwing snow at my window. Nobody’s ever thrown snow at my window to call me out. I like that. The dead phone is the best gift. I am giggling as I am going down the stairs and I know it’s gonna be the best Valentine’s date ever. (Especially since I have none other to compare it to and it is actually happening.)