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“No, I’m in the car.” I scrolled to my texts and checked her picture. Maya was a beautiful Indian-American woman with large dark eyes, the most remarkable feature on her delicate face. Her nose was slim, and her chin came to a point like a heart. Gold hoops peeked from her thick hair, glistening black to her shoulders.
“Oh, then let’s hang up. It’s not safe.”
“No, it’s fine, I’m in a parking lot, don’t worry about it, we can talk now, it’s fine.” Words raced from my lips. My mouth was a Ferrari, but my brain was a tricycle.
“I was wondering if you wanted to go out.”
My mouth went dry. Her voice sounded so nice, with a trace of a Philly accent that I liked. Only Philadelphians like Philly accents.
“TJ, hello? Did I lose you?”
“Yes, no, sorry, I was…thinking.”
“Okay, this is embarrassing.” Maya laughed awkwardly. “Forget it. I thought I’d give it a shot.”
“No, that’s okay.” I cringed. “I, uh, was just in the middle of something.”
“I’m calling because my uncle gave you the wrong number. I got a new phone. He also sent me your picture.”
I blinked. “I didn’t know he had a picture of me.”
“He got it off a law firm website?”
“Oh, right.” I was drunk when that picture was taken. It’s the best picture of me ever. I’m a hot drunk.
“He thinks you hung the moon.”
“He doesn’t know me,” I shot back, and Maya chuckled, assuming I was being self-deprecating.
“I’m a widow, I don’t know if he told you.”
“He did. I’m sorry about your loss. What, uh, do you do?”
“I work for a reinsurance company.”
“What a coincidence!” I blurted out, unthinking.
“You’re in reinsurance? I thought you worked in a law firm.”
TJ, you idiot.“No, there’s a reinsurance company in my office complex. I always wondered what reinsurance was. It sounds complicated.”
“It’s not. It’s just insurance for insurers.”
“That sounds complicated to me. Basically, it’s calculus.”
I realized I was trying to flirt, like a chick flapping its wings. “So, Maya, do you like calculus?”
“Yes, I love it.”
“And you sell calculus policies?”
Maya chuckled. “Yes, and I’m the office administrator.”
“You boss people around.”
“You got a problem with that?”
“No, I like bossy women.” I worried that sounded politically incorrect, so I shut up. I looked at her picture again and couldn’t deny a little thrill. It felt like hope, maybe even a glimpse of a future.
