Five, or maybe six, weeks later, he received a hand-addressed envelope, which had been forwarded from his old address. Curious, he opened it, his jaw dropping.
A note fell out, the contents of which, he hoped, would change his destiny. For, inside the neat, clean handwriting said, "I'm not really engaged. Here's my e-mail address. Amy"
His hands finally dried, he e-mailed her, they went out every night for a week. Unable to contain his inner joy or comprehend his great good luck, he took her hand and said, "I'm so glad you sent me that note."
"I didn't," she responded. "My mother did."
~
Meanwhile, in San Antonio, containing our curiosity became agony. Had we not been so used to letting him play by himself, it would have been worse, but patience is a virtue, I kept telling myself. Finally, the call came.
"Mom," came the man's voice, that of my son. "Do you still have the diamond ring Dad told me I could have when I needed it?"
"Yes," I said, not wanting to be too pushy, but knowing that I was getting ready to strangle the brat."
"Why, do you need it?" Oh, I was so cool.
"Can you bring it up to me? I want to propose to Amy tonight" , he emphasized.
"Tonight? You're in Dallas and I'm in San Antonio. How do you suggest I get it up to you?"
"Could you fly up and bring it," he offered.
"It's 2:30 in the afternoon. How about if you ask her tomorrow night, and I will FedEx it right now?"
Not only was I not about to get on a plane for a two-hour round-trip flight, but I didn't really know where his dad had put it. Then, I heard My Little Boy, the one who used to throw his arms around my neck, rub his nose on my cheek, and say, "I love you, mommy" as he fell asleep in my arms, or the little soccer player who turned beet red when his mom showed up at the game to cheer him on and serve oranges with the other moms at half-time, while he wanted to die of embarrassment.
"If I don't do it tonight, I won't have the nerve to do it later." His voice showed real fear. Otherwise, he would never have let me see it.
Forty-five minutes later, the plane door closed."
At least he had the good grace to meet me on time on the other side of the plane door. We went into one of the airport bars, sat down for a beer and waited for my return flight. I seldom have occasion to drink in airport bars, but thought he needed one, even if I didn't.
"Can you stay with me tonight? Pleeeeze!" He wasn't pretending.
I didn't say a word.
"What if she says no? You can have the bed, I'll take the couch. Pleeeeze"
"Son," said I, "You're on your own."
