"A minute ago you were telling me to screw his ears off like a combat zone hooker and now you telling me to set my own terms and play it cool. Which is it? You sound as confused as I am."
Suzie laughed. "I admit it, sister. You and I think too much alike which means I don't have the faintest idea what you should do but do it anyway!"
"I love you, Suzie; enough to eat your share of green peas."
"As much as a really big slice of birthday cake. Did you think I wouldn't remember little sister? Happy birthday! It's forty big ones. Don't spend number forty-one in a bed alone."
I spent the entire night naked, on top of the sheets, lustfully dreaming of Paul and euphoric that someone remembered my birthday.
The following day I returned to my treadmill job with even less enthusiasm than before I traveled to Boston and my world turned upside down. I muddled through the day and the next and tried to busy myself as the weekend began. I resolved to accept Suzie's take it slowly prompting in lieu of her more dramatic screw-like-a-rabbit-and-hook-him suggestion. I'd take it easy, set my own terms and slam no doors. When Paul called Friday evening, my resolve evaporated with the sound of his voice.
The length of our phone conversation nearly exceeded my chat with Suzie and was equally satisfying. Our discussion was easy and neither of us seemed in a hurry for it to end. He promised to telephone the next night; he did and the following night as well and each night for the entire week.
Conversations with Paul were followed, or sometimes preceded by calls to or from, Suzie. Our sisterly relationship fused back naturally, as if those years of estrangement had never happened. My leisure hours were packed more tightly than my nerves while books remained unread, and jigsaw puzzles lay unfinished, and dust bunnies flourished under my unmade bed.
The following weekend Paul asked the question on both our minds. "What can we do, Sarah?"
"About what?" I asked.
"About us. I want to see you. I want you near me, but I'm scared to death to suggest anything for fear I'll say something wrong and chase you away. I love just talking to you but I want it to be face to face."
"What do you really want, Paul?" I asked, before I considered the weight of the question and possible ramifications of his answer.
"Don't ask me that, please. I don't want to lie and I don't dare tell the truth, at least not yet. May I come down and see you?"