Finding It

When Shelley answered the phone tonight, it was with a worried voice.

"Hello?" she said. "Is everything okay?"

CT and I had just gotten back from a long looping walk, where I'd been showing off the best bits of the city to him: the view up the canal, the cats of parliament hill, a long walk down the cliff to the river, along the river through the sunset back home. He was upstairs, rattling around, making homey noises.

"Everything's great! I just missed you."

"Me too! I thought I wouldn't hear from you for a week, so wondered if maybe you were calling for a bad reason."

Driving out to the airport, I was nervous as fuck. CT and I hadn't seen each other in two months, except over skype. We'd exchanged a fair number of emails and chats, but it's certainly not the same as spending 8 days in close proximity to that same person. What if our pheromones didn't like each other anymore? What if he was actually a jerk in person? What if I bored him? What if we just didn't jibe?

I drove out to the airport with my hands shaking, running late. He was kind about my tardiness, but the tight dress probably helped.

Though I haven't talked about this with him, which might be more polite than having him read it over coffee at the breakfast table tomorrow morning, it felt to me like we took a bit to find our stride.

Not that things ever were going badly, but for the first evening and some of yesterday, I felt just a little off kilter, not quite my own self. We're both used to spending a lot of time alone, both used to being single. I don't know if he felt the same first unsure steps, maybe hid it as well as I hope I did.

But hit it we have.