Tuesday 14 April 2015
Tucker is in Japan at some university, collaborating with an international group of physicists on the building of a microwave telescope to be placed at 18,000’ elevation in the thin air of the Chilean Andes Mountains, designed to look deep into forever for remnants of the Big Bang. His last email said he had a little free time, so he rented a bicycle to toot around town. I think he is having a hell of a good time. Meanwhile, Sweet Grecy is in the Philippines be-bopping back and forth twixt Lenzon and Manila, acquiring land and taking care of other stuff that needs her attention, and Sam is at school working on an art project she is thrilled about doing with ten other students. Me? I’m lolling around in bed with the flu and an infected cuticle. How exciting is that?
Grecy calls me every day. Says she wants to hear the sound of my voice. I am glad she does, because I want to hear her voice, too. Other than that, I do not get many calls, which is fine. I am not a telephone kind of person. Anyway—she calls every day at about 5pm. That is about 8am the next day for her. So, 5pm, phone rings, I answer: “Hello my darling.” A masculine voice responds: “Oh Sig, you cannot imagine how long I’ve waited to hear those words from you.” It is my friend Don Young, a classmate through elementary and high school, who has had a mad crush on me as long as I can remember. We both laugh and laugh and have our chat which is always lively and fun and at the end of our conversation, he reminds me, as he always does, that he is available, and should I ever consider it—you know—it—“Well, I’m your guy.” And I say: “I love you, Don.” And he says: ‘I love you too, Sig.’ I hang up the phone, and smiling, shake my head, then, go back to waiting for Grecy’s call.
A few minutes pass. The phone rings again. I answer: “Hello, my darling.” Sweet Grecy responds in kind. I say, “Wanna hear about something funny that just happened?” She says: “Sure.” So, I tell her about Don’s call. She giggles and says, “Oh, that poor guy.” We laugh together, then, move on and talk about each other, about how we are and what we are doing. At the end our talking, we reaffirm our love, and she says, “Wait for my call tomorrow.” I say, “I’ll be here.” When we finish, and hang up the phones, I sit quiet a while and mull her words. But, time passes, and little by little, their sweetness evaporates, and when it does, I have to go back to trying to think of other things. Important things. Things like tomorrow’s 5pm call.
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Great letter, Sigurd 😀