After a quarrel with Lucy, George felt a pang of guilt. He had ended his marriage and was now seeing Lucy, a colleague, but their relationship was far from peaceful. Lucy was flighty and always managed to spark a fresh argument.
I could have let this go, but Im fed up with Lucys whims, he thought as he drove home from the office in his hatchback. If we fought in private it would be one thing, but shes always arguing in front of everyone, and the staff can’t stop laughing. They all wonder why I ever got involved with her. Good thing I deleted her number
That evening George tried to unwind. He ate, lounged on the sofa, flicked through his phone and occasionally glanced at the television. A sour feeling lingered in his chest.
Emma was already half asleep when her phone buzzed. It was an unknown number, but she answered automatically, her voice thick with sleep.
Hello
A male voice, unfamiliar yet calm, said, Hi, are you still upset?
No, Emma replied, half awake, realizing the call wasnt meant for her.
Sorry, I lost my temper. Its rude to make a scene in front of everyone, and I was hurt too. I even deleted your contact, but I seem to remember the number by heart. Let me come over.
Now? she glanced at the clockone in the morning.
Emma wanted to stay in bed and explain the mixup, but she shrugged and said, Come over, before hanging up.
She didnt even bother thinking about the stranger, though a small smile tugged at her lips, imagining he was heading straight to his own girlfriend. She drifted back to sleep.
In the morning Emma finished her coffee, washed the mug and put it away when her phone rang again.
Oh dear, who could be calling this early? I have to get to work she muttered, noting it was the same unfamiliar number that had called at night.
Hey, the familiar voice said.
Hey, she replied.
My girlfriend threw me out and slammed the door in my face last night, he said cheerfully.
And you dont seem upset, Emma observed, their tone suddenly informal.
Yes, but as a decent lady you ought to compensate me for the emotional damage, he replied.
Emma burst into genuine laughter, then asked, Me? What does that have to do with me? You should have remembered the number more clearly.
Why didnt you tell me straight away it was a wrong number? he asked.
Because I wanted to keep sleeping. Proper people dont disturb their girlfriends at night.
Fine, Ill agree with you, but you owe me a date
Thats a bit much, Emma said, amused.
Why not? We met by accident at night, after all.
We didnt meet, she retorted.
Then Im George. And you are?
Emma, she said mechanically.
Lovely name, I like it, George laughed. How about we meet at the café Fortune around six this evening?
My goodness, youve never seen me and already want to meet I must look like an old hag, like a witch, Emma joked.
Your voice sounds young and beautiful, George chuckled. Im in the prime of my life, too. Im actually a medium, I see everything I already like you.
Emma giggled.
Why ask my name then?
Even mediums get it wrong sometimes. So, the date? Ill be at Fortune.
Im not meeting you. Youre far too cocky, she replied.
Im not begging, but I strongly recommend it. You have the whole evening free, George said before hanging up.
Emma drove to the office, puzzled. What was that all about? Who was he?
The whole day she was buried in paperwork, like a hamster on a wheel, while the whole department prepared for an audit. Emma, thirtythree, had been divorced for two years. She never had children; her exhusband didnt want any, despite her insistence. When her younger sister visited with twin toddlers, her husband fled the house, returning later in a furious rage.
I cant stand those tiny squealers. Tell your sister not to come when Im home, he had snarled. They soon divorced, both indifferent.
At work there was no time to dwell on Georges odd call. She treated it as a frivolous flirtationnothing serious, certainly not a blind date.
Emma, bring me the file you showed me yesterday, her boss called as he passed their office, Im beginning to have doubts
Emma was regarded as a reliable specialist, so the boss loaded her with important tasks, knowing she would earn a solid bonus. Some colleagues, especially the women, whispered envy:
Whats she doing for our boss, Boris? they said, referring to their manager. Shes pulling all the strings, and the bonuses keep flowing.
Rita complained most loudly, and Tim, the senior analyst, always replied:
Envy is a nasty thing, Rita. You cant calculate anything without mistakes. Our manager sees through everyones capabilities.
Dont you think youre overreacting? Tim would calmly explain, never arguing with the women.
Finally the workday ended. Emma breathed a sigh of relief; it had been productive. She got into her car, drove out of the car park, and, on a whim, turned toward the café Fortune. She stopped, still in the vehicle, and watched people come and go.
Near the entrance stood a young man holding a bouquet of white roses, halfturned as if waiting for someone to appear on the pavement.
When he finally faced her, Emmas heart leapt.
Its George, my first love! she exclaimed.
From that moment they never saw each other again.
George had liked Emma back in school. He was in the final year of secondary school, she was in the lower sixth. Many girls were smitten with him, and he was always surrounded by friends. He never noticed Emma because she was younger. At the time he hung out with Lily, a pretty but haughty classmate whose father was the town mayor, giving her every advantage.
Does George wait for someone else? I cant even recall his voice, Emma mused later. He left after school, studied at university, and I never heard from him again. She decided to find out who he might be waiting for.
George turned his head, apparently expecting someone, looking nervous. Emma stepped out of her car and walked toward the café. As soon as she appeared, Georges face broke into a wide grin.
Im not mistaken, he thought, thats her. Exactly as I imagined.
He approached and handed her the roses.
Emma, these are for you.
How do you know its me? And that I love white roses?
I imagined you this way, and its strange, but you remind me of someone, Emma laughed. As for the roses, it was intuitionI chose white without hesitation.
You remind me of someone too, George said. We went to the same school, I was older, you were younger. I never looked your way then.
You were my best volleyball player in school, remember? Your serves were unbeatable, George recalled. You were small in age, but I admired you then. Youve grown into a gorgeous womantall, slender, the same legs I saw on the court.
They talked late into the night, then each drove home, agreeing to meet again the next evening. Their meetings continued, and they both lamented the years lost.
Six months later George and Emma married; a year after that they welcomed a healthy daughter and then a son. They were happy and often reminisced about their school days. A chance nighttime call had eventually led to a lifelong partnership, even though they had known each other long ago. Life had pulled them apart, but fate found a way to bring them back together.
The story reminds us that opportunities sometimes appear in the most unexpected forms, and that patience and openness can turn a fleeting encounter into a lasting love.
