A Man Named Dave

… can you see me?” Marsha whispered.
    Hang up the phone! my brain screamed. Before you screw up and say something, hang up! As my grip tightened against the phone, a surge of energy seeped through my heart. “Yeah,” I gasped into the phone – my only lifeline to Marsha. “Sometimes, at night, when everything is still, I’ll walk outside and look up at the stars … I’ll close my eyes …” I stopped.
    “Dave, please, go on. I know it’s hard. I know you’ve been through a lot with your childhood, all you’re trying to do, your divorce, your son … but just say something, say anything. I won’t hurt you. I promise, it’s okay.”
    Closing my eyes, I prayed for Marsha to keep talking. Letting out a deep sigh, I said, “Sometimes, at night, before I go to sleep … I can see your face …”
    We stayed on the phone from nine that evening until three in the morning. Afterward, I strolled out into a swirl of gray fog that had begun to settle in the trees. I knew everything about Marsha, down to how she breathed. Looking up, I thanked God.
    Maybe, I thought to myself, maybe.
    Marsha and I began dating on the phone. Four months later, as our friendship and our personal feelings for each other grew stronger, we decided it was time to meet.
    I was a nervous wreck the day Marsha was scheduled to fly in. I almost crashed my 4-Runner as I daydreamed about Marsha on the way. Hours later at the airport, I kept readjusting my clothes to look absolutely perfect for her. I felt like a schoolboy on a blind date, fearing she might think I was ugly, or laugh at me if I said the wrong thing. But by far my biggest anxiety was what if, after all our late-night conversations, romantic courtship, and reams of letters and cards we had exchanged, I froze up and never let her get close, just as I had with Patsy? What if I could not break through to how I wanted to feel? For me it was as it always had been: what if I could not open my heart and let Marsha in? I started to panic, and imagined myself fleeing before things became too deep. Part of me wanted to drop the yellow rose I was holding behind my back and run out of the airport terminal. “For God’s sake,” I said to myself, “who are you trying to kid?” With my head bent down, I found myself taking a step backward, then another step. I swallowed hard, thinking that in the end Marsha would understand – she was just too good for me.
    As I turned away a sudden shimmer caught my eyes. As the passengers streamed from the terminal gate, one person stood out among the throng of people. Marsha’s alluring eyes and shiny auburn hair almost made me faint. With my mind racing, I imagined myself strolling over to extend my hand to introduce myself properly. I didn’t want to seem too desperate or too forward.
    But I threw away my apprehension. To hell with that, I thought to myself.
    We awkwardly ran into each other’s open arms. Holding her tight, I could feel Marsha’s heart race. “I can’t believe it,” she cried as tears fell down her face.
    Lowering my defenses, I whispered, “Hello, princess.” For a few moments the world stood still. When I finally took a long look at Marsha’s face, rather than kissing her, I closed my eyes and ran my fingers along the side of her face to the base of her neck.
    Leaning her face into my hand, she sighed, “Whatever you do, don’t let go.”
    “Hardly a chance,” I replied.
    Wiping her tears away, Marsha shook her head. “Dave, I’ve dreamed about this day for a long time. Don’t let me go.”
     
    The next several days Marsha and I were inseparable. We spent every waking moment together. While clutching our mugs of coffee, we’d chat outside for hours at a time. As I grew fascinated with her, Marsha seemed to absorb every detail of my life, to the point of insisting to see the summer cabin where I had stayed as a child. Trying to recapture the magic that had captivated me so many years ago as a child, we stood holding each other, watching the sun set beneath the redwood trees as the sky turned from blue to orange. With every passing hour, I found myself stripping away layers of armor that I had worn as my defense from years of internal battle. Marsha became the only person to whom I could bare my soul.
    The days passed by too quickly. The day before Marsha had to return home, I began to pull back. For me, the cold reality was that Marsha lived thousands of miles away – with a job, a great family, and a real life. I didn’t want her to become any more entangled