Om Mane Padme Dolt (9/22/08 Monday)

The interminable week ends, the interminable week begins. It was a horrible, spastic dance of avoidance most of the day, and I was angry for the duration. I simply didn't know how to face her or what to say to her. I greet her sheepishly from behind in the morning and get a "Hi. Welcome back" in return, and suddenly I'm nearly furious. What did I expect? a leap into my arms? I got better than I gave, I guess. What the hell kind of greeting did I give her? No confidence. There was no confidence at all in my manner. But, dammit, she said yes. Did I expect her to change her mind in the meantime? So this is neurosis! Give me strength--and confidence, and common sense. Oh, to "burn with optimism's flame"!

But the day did finally end and we did set a day and time. The last hour of the day Julie had the pick list and my hour was open. I was at such loose ends waiting for her to get to the quiet and secluded upstairs that I fixed a Captain Underpants book, which is normally shortlisted for the trashcan. At a quarter to five I just couldn't wait any longer for her to get upstairs. I found her cart in children's amid a cauldron of kids. I spun around looking for Julie. On my second rotation I spotted her approaching, books in arms, pencil in teeth. I somehow understood her to say "Who are you looking for?" but made her say it again, to stall for time and to hear it again from her pencil-barred mouth. "You," I said. "Oh?" she said. "What about?" Slowly, holding her gaze, I said, "About a bit of non-work-related business." She smiled. "Oh. Can you wait till five?" "Yep," I said as casually as I could, considering I suddenly felt very stupid for interrupting her while she was so busy, and immediately turned away and walked off.

I went straight to Hinckley, on his dinner break upstairs with a newspaper in the back of the non-fiction. It was my second visit of the hour. The first was to let him know of my intent and my ill confidence toward it. Essentially, he reminded me that she had agreed to go out with me. Somehow it made much more difference than the few thousand times I've told myself. Did I say I lacked confidence? This time up I told him about my encounter, and he gave me another boost. Am I the boxer to his trainer? or the Tom Hanks to his Rob Reiner in Sleepless in Seattle?

Five o'clock finally came--and then five after, then ten after before Julie found me sitting in front of the lockers by the back door. I expected her to be on her way out when she was ready to talk to me. She wasn't. Suddenly, again I was feeling indulged. I stood, but my six-inch advantage didn't make me feel any more in control. Luckily, I had formulated an apology to open with, and actually got it said: "I'm sorry I accosted you, but my patience and resolve were skating together on thin ice." She appreciated that with a laugh, but didn't speak. "So," I said, "how full is your dance card this weekend?" "Well, I'm pretty much free the whole weekend. I have homework, but that's a given." Here is where I should have made a suggestion for her approval, instead of, "Well, what would work best for you?" "Saturday, I guess. Is Saturday okay?" Dammit! My line! "Yeah, that works for me." "Okay!" She seemed to think we were done, but I didn't return her smile, but raised my eyebrows expectantly. "And..." I said. "What about...." "The time," she finished. I didn't help her out this time, and I could tell it was another mistake. She thought a moment. "One o'clock?" That was disappointingly late, but I accepted it with at least the satisfaction of finality.

So the date is set. Hardly the red-letter day the 12th was, but a lot closer to really happening. Now I just have to hold it together one day at a time, to remember that looseness I felt the rest of the day after "Yes, I would." This is nothing to be tense about. See if that stops me. Where's my mantra now?