He calls her in the late afternoon, at the time when he knows only she will answer. He can picture thefront counter phone ringing loudly next to the cash register. His hands slick with sweat, a nervous rush of blood to his ears. He calls her to say that he can't let her go, that he is sorry for having asked her to choose. He can't move forward or backward or sideways. He can't do anything but sing as tho she is sitting next to him, her shoulders turned slightly in a thoughtful gesture of privacy. (The way she did on the beach....the first time they were together.) He still goes back to that evening..places himself on the beach and plays her a song. It's the only way he can play now. Her calls her to tell her all of this, but when he hears her oice on the other line, hears that familiar catch, that soft sleepiness in her hello. He can only say quietly,"Hey." She registers his voice in the jump of her heart before her memory can even find his name. But when she finally steadies herself enough to speak, the words that spill forth are not the words that she has rehearsed a hundered, a thousand, a million times in her head. The words that part her lips are more real, more honest and hers alone. "Wait for me", she asks. He closes his eyes and sees her as she was that day on the beach. Her face towards that sun. Her body ready to take flight. "Always", he answers.
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