Penn didn’t call the next day, but I didn’t really expect him to call. So I was surprised when my phone rang on Sunday afternoon and the caller ID showed an area code I didn’t recognize. I figured it had to be Penn, but I didn’t answer. I don’t know why I didn’t answer. It wasn’t as if I was trying to play a game, trying to pretend that I was too busy to answer. I was nervous, I guess. I wanted to be more prepared than I could get in the thirty seconds of a ringing phone. That, and I thought that Penn might be wanting to do something before he headed back to his hometown, and I didn’t have time to hang out that afternoon but I didn’t want to say no. So I didn’t answer the phone. A few hours and many mental pep talks later, though, I thought, “Okay. He was a nice guy. He was cute. He didn’t seem creepy. He seemed interesting. Call him back. It can’t hurt, right?” So I called him back.
That was the best phone call I’ve ever made. I am so incredibly glad that I called him back. That’s another way in which I came so close to never having him in my life at all. Nine times out of ten, when I exchanged numbers with a guy I didn’t call him, even if I had thought he was nice or interesting or entertaining or attractive. And that same nine times out of ten I didn’t answer when the guy called me. I had this horrible habit of just ignoring phone calls until the guy eventually gave up and stopped calling, and then I would briefly wonder what I might have missed but mostly just be relieved that the guy had given up. I have no idea why I used to do this, why I was always so willing to give my phone number to guys I had no intention of ever actually pursuing. For some reason, though, I didn’t do that with Penn. And it’s not like it was love at first sight when I met Penn. I thought he was interesting, but I’d thought the same thing about other guys and I didn’t return their phone calls. Again, the fact that I called him back is one of those things, like the saved matchbook, that make me think that even though logically I wasn’t yet thinking of Penn as something special on the night we met (not because he wasn’t special, but because I don’t let myself do things like that, I’m too pragmatic to believe in love at first sight), something inside me knew he was going to be immensely important in my life and that I shouldn’t let him get away.
I talked to Penn for hours during that first phone conversation. He was already back home so he just wanted to talk, and talk we did, for almost three hours. And then the next day we didn’t talk on the phone, but the day after that we talked for an hour and a half, and then we were talking every day, and that’s how it all began.
The next week he took me to the aquarium on our first date. The weekend after that we saw Obama speak at a presidential rally outside the state capitol and eight months later we huddled together shivering on the National Mall as he was inaugurated. The year passed. One afternoon in July I sat on the floor and leaned against his legs as he sat on the couch and we talked about how soon we might be able to live in the same place, not realizing at the time that in October he would get a job offer that would allow him to move to be here with me. We had committed ourselves to making things work despite the hundred mile separation, and fortunately in our case that separation ended up lasting a blissfully short six months.
Everything moved so fast, but everything was so right. It’s as if some force wanted us to meet and be together, right from that first night. From before that first night, even. Remember my premonition? At the start of 2007 I was convinced it was 2008, and I kept having to tell myself, “No, not yet, 2008 will get here.” And I had no real reason to be excited about 2008, except that I had A Feeling. I had A Feeling that 2008 was going to be the year that something big would happen. I can’t explain it. I’ve never been able to explain it. I’m a rational person and I don’t really believe in premonitions, but I just knew. And then I moved here to the east coast and my premonition grew even stronger. As soon as I moved here I felt like I belonged here, and I felt this great sense of calm and ease and satisfaction with my life. I knew I was doing the right thing, I knew I was in the right place, and I constantly felt like Tony in West Side Story: “Something’s coming, something good, maybe tonight…maybe tonight…” So it was a big surprise to meet Penn, but it also wasn’t a surprise at all. I knew it was going to happen, I just didn’t know it was going to be him. I knew it was going to be good, but I didn’t know it was going to be this good, or this easy.
I’m so glad that my aunt came to visit that weekend. I’m glad we went to that particular bar. I’m glad Penn didn’t go to New York that weekend, came to City B instead, and convinced his friends to try that particular bar, too. I’m glad I decided to finish my vodka tonic. I’m glad I returned that phone call. I’m just so happy everything worked out right, for once, and no matter what happens in the future I am glad that I have had this year.
I don’t have the words to explain how I feel about Penn, except to tell you this: when I was in Russia recently, it was an amazing experience. Every day I learned a dozen new things and saw amazing things that I will never see again. It was exhilarating, and every day I was happy to be traveling. I felt fine. I felt great, in fact. And then I got back to the states and when I climbed into bed with Penn the first night I was home and pressed my body against his, I breathed. I really breathed, for the first time in ten days. And that is what being with him is like, always. He’s a breath of fresh air, the thing that makes me think, “Oh, yes, this. This is what I was missing all that time. This is what I needed all along.”
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