Over time, I started seeing her less and less on the bus. She was taking a different route, I supposed. Eventually, a few weeks had passed and I hadn’t seen her at all.
Finally, I saw her again. I was feeling pretty confident that day and before she was able to pull out her book, I introduced myself. We got to talking and even went to a nearby coffee shop and had a really great conversation. We talked mostly about books and she told me her favorite was Larry McMurty’s All My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers. I’d never even heard of it, but she insisted it had one of the best endings in literature. I was about to ask her out when my boss called my cell wondering why I was so late for work. I had to leave before I could even get her number.
A few days later, I saw her again. She was getting on just as I was getting off, but she stopped me. She thrust a book into my hands and insisted that I keep it. I thanked her and started reading as soon as I got home.
All My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers is now my favorite book. Not just because it’s incredibly well-written and interesting, but it’s something more: when I reached the end, taped to the last page was a note. It said how she’d kept seeing me on the bus and wished I’d talk to her. How she was so nervous, she’d hold a book in her hands like a shield, stealing glances whenever I wasn’t looking. And she was right, it had one of the best endings ever: her number.
We’ve been married for three years now.