[Tuesday, March 30, 20:00]
She frowned at the trilling of the phone. It was rather late, and she wasn't expecting a call from anyone. The woman picked her way through the chaos on the floor of her apartment. "Met Juliana, hallo," she answered.
"Hi. Um. You must think I'm the worst guy on the planet by now."
Her eyebrows rose. "Don?" Three weeks ago, he said he would call. Two weeks ago, she had decided he was a typical American, too scared of hurting her feelings to tell her he didn't want to meet up after all. She had given up waiting for his call.
He shook his head in disbelief. What a saint. She hadn't immediately hung up on him. "I know I'm beyond late. I'm sorry. Work has been insane. But I have all day tomorrow. Whenever you're free. Wherever you want to go. I'm buying. As long as you're still interested." He crossed his fingers on his free hand. Please say yes.
"I am interested, but I am... not sure it would be a good idea anymore." She sighed and sat down on her bed. "I am going home in two days."
"I thought this number was a land line. Aren't you already home?" he asked, confused.
Oh. He didn't understand. She took a deep breath. "Home. To the Netherlands."
His free hand went slack and his fingers uncrossed. What? No. "F- for how long?" he stammered, sitting straight in his chair.
"Indefinitely."
The word hit him like a punch to the gut. He should have called her sooner. He could have squeezed in a date somewhere in the past three weeks. But he would have been exhausted and eager to get home. He wanted to put his best foot forward with Juliana so he had put it off. Now his chance was all but gone.
"Don? Are you still there?" He had gone very quiet. He certainly hadn't thought of the possibility that she would be flying home in less than 48 hours.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus. "Is it, um, is it your green card? I can make some calls. If you need Immigration off your back. I'm sure-"
"No, it isn't," the woman said gently. But his willingness to try and help was touching. "It's medical debt." A few weeks after the stabbing, a bill came in the mail. She learned it was eye-wateringly expensive to nearly die in America. Grayson had done everything he could to help. He argued with the hospital and then with the insurance company. He even offered to pay part of it himself as an advance if she would stay in New York and keep working at Translatie. She took a walk in the rain to think it over, but the only answer was to go home. Get two or three jobs that she hated but paid well. If she sacrificed the translation work she loved and New York rent, she could pay off the debt faster back home, living under her parents' roof. "I have to go home."
"I want to see you," he blurted, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He struggled with it a bit, trying to get his arms in the sleeves while holding his cell phone to his ear. He grabbed his keys and headed for the door. "Are you free?"
Juliana blinked. She thought he would say 'Oh, okay. Have a good flight.' and that would be the end of that. But he still wanted to see her? "Right now?"
"Yes, right now." Don held the phone with his shoulder, trying to find his car key on his keyring. He could be there in 20 minutes. 15 if he hurried. Maybe 10 if he bent the rules and turned on the siren.
She looked at the open suitcases and the mess of her belongings strewn all over the floors. "No. I have to finish packing and cleaning. And I work tomorrow."
The man deflated as he sat down in the driver's seat. "Grayson isn't giving you your second last day in the country off?" What a guy.
"I asked to hand over my projects at the last second. It's not Grayson's fault," she chided him. "I work until one. Grayson insisted I have the afternoon. To get all my things in order."
"How long do you think that will take?"
"Until three," she guessed. Two hours would be enough time to tie up her last loose ends in America.
"Okay. I'll see you at three then."
She couldn't help but smile. Persistent. "Don, I want to be clear. I asked you for coffee after I decided I would be going home. If we were a good match, then we could have a few weeks of fun. But the time is gone now." In short, she was being impulsive and selfish, and he deserved to know.
"Doesn't matter." If he'd gotten off his butt and given her a call, he would have enjoyed a few weeks of fun. "I was a no-show last time, I promised I would make it up to you, didn't I?" That, and he wanted to see her before she left the country. Indefinitely. "Tomorrow. Three o'clock."