3 AM (You must be lonely)

"Hmmpf..." I moaned as I rolled over toward the phone. "'Lo?"

"Baby, is that you?" An unfamiliar voice crowed on the other end of the phone. The background was a tumult of noise; it almost sounded like klaxons and artillery fire in the background with a phat bass beat underneath.  

"I don't think so." I moaned squinting at the clock. 3:04 am. Damn. It's not that I wasn't used to getting drunk dialed by my friends, but I just didn't recognize the voice. "You must have dialed the wrong number.

"Marquise?" He asked sounding uncertain. I could hear a rustle as he walked, the deafening music getting softer.

"Yeah," I said sighing softly. Suddenly, the voice became all too familiar. Flashes of the night we met kept invading my mind, the colored lights swirling, the thickness of the air, the sheer volume of the music, the bite of tequila, the weight of air on my skin. It was him. The man of my dreams made flesh. He barreled into my life with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop (to coin a very trite, but true cliché) and left like a wisp of smoke.

"I found your number in my wallet." He said his voice echoing strangely.

"Congratulations." I said rolling over onto my back and rubbing my eyes. He had been the one-night stand I'd always wanted, beautiful, wealthy, famous. Our one-night stand extended and extended. It became days, then weeks, and almost months, five days short of being two months and the longest relationship of my life. "I would have thought the napkin I wrote it on would have disintegrated in three years."

"I actually rewrote it onto a business card the next morning." He answered the distinct sound of a toilet flushing playing in the background. "I always meant to call you, but things just got busy."

"Things have a tendency to do that." I said yawning.

"Please, don't be angry." He said his voice getting even quieter. "My life got complicated..."

"I'm sure it did." I said not wanting to cut him any slack.

"Well, I really did mean to call..."

"Great, so you had good intentions." I snapped.

"I'm sorry." His voice losing all the bravado it'd had at the beginning of the call. I could tell he was moving again because of the rustle and the fact that the music got loud again then almost immediately quieter. He must have been walking through the club. "I just expected to see you here. Although, I'm not sure why. Three years is a pretty long time."

"Yeah, it is." I said wondering what it was I heard in his voice. "I don't tend bar anymore."

"Oh, okay." He answered sounding a little out of breath. He must have been walking fast.

"But, I guess you still have the same job."

"I suppose I do." He said his voice sounding tired. I heard the distinctive beep, beep of a car alarm being turned off. "Any big changes I should know? Are you married?"

"No, I keep forgetting that should be one of my goals." I whispered hating that I loved hearing his voice. The sound of a car engine coming to life played along with a stereo that came to life. "So, how many kids do you have now?"

"Two," he said quietly. "A boy and a girl."

"Congratulations." I murmured silently in my head, I added another girl.

"I was just wondering if I could come over to see you." He said a certain pleading in his voice.

"I don't think so." I answered.

"Oh, okay." He said. "I just wanted to come over and visit you, nothing more."

"Yeah, I remember your version of nothing more." I answered stretching.

"I just..." he stopped.

"Just what?"

"I just think about you a lot." He said distracted. He was obviously driving. "I have always considered you one of the greatest friends I've ever had."

"Same here." I whispered. Damn him for making me admit that. Damn him for calling me when everything was going just fine.

"Can I come over?" He asked again. "Please?"

"Okay," I said relenting despite my reservations, just as I knew I would.

"Do you still live in the same place?" He asked.

"Yeah, I do." I answered laughing a little. Same place, different life. I stood and stretched carefully rearranging my twisted t-shirt and boxers. I slid my feet into the slippers at the end of my bed, carelessly pulling the scrunchy out of my hair. My feet made a soft swishing sound as I padded up the hallway. I pulled the door to my daughter’s bedroom closed. "Stand warned, it's a mess."

"Probably no worse than back in the day." He said laughing as well. I heard the soft whistle of breaks and saw the red glow of brake lights through the sheers in my living room.

"No, not worse, just different." I said looking around at the cozy living room of the bungalow I'd inherited from my dad. Everything was nice, if a little careworn. It basically looked the same as the last time he was here, except of course, instead of empty beer cans and tequila bottles settled between overflowing ashtrays there were dolls and trucks surrounding boxes of raisins and other healthy snacks. "The change is pretty striking, but I have faith that you'll like it."

"I'm sure I will too." He said softly, his breath coming in the fits and starts of someone walking. "I am so glad that you've agreed to see me. I've tried to call so many times."

"Yeah?" I asked as I walked over to the door.

"I've actually dialed it a few times, but have never waited until someone answered." He said as I heard the heavy tread of boots clocking across the wide front porch.

"So, that was you?" I asked as I opened the door. There he stood on his phone. I stopped the reality of him and his blue eyes almost more than I could take. As always, his mere presence was enough to suck all the oxygen in his immediate vicinity away from me. His charisma and magnetism were enough to turn my resolve and my insides to so much jelly.

"Hello?" He asked slowly lowering his phone from his ear.

"Hi." I said suddenly feeling like a twelve-year-old girl meeting the superstar of her dreams for the first time. We stood there in a vacuum. Me staring at him, him staring back sucking in all of my oxygen. I wondered briefly how it must feel to live in what basically must amount to a hyperbaric chamber.

Or on the surface of the sun. Because, even in the dim glow of the streetlight, he seemed to shine. He was almost a universe all to himself. Or a planet. He exuded his own light. A light that I was inexplicably drawn to like a moth to a flame. Without really giving it any conscious thought, I reached out and gathered him in my arms, hugging him, relishing his scent and that strange warmth radiating from him.

"Happy Valentine's Day."  He said pushing the single wilted rose towards me.

"Thanks." I said accepting the offered flower.

"And, I guess in some ways, happy anniversary."

"In a way," I said sighing not even sure why I let him come over.

"Can I come in?" He asked.

"Oh, of course." I said stepping back.