Heidi ~ May 18

 

We have the same birthday, same year.  I worked in NYC and he worked in the Chicago base of our employers, a social research field supplier.  I ran the projects, he ran the data processing when codes were written and data put on punch cards, then fed into massive computers. It was the 70’s. 

 

He had been a Black Panther (oh dear, do you youngin’s know what that is?) turned IT expert.  

 

He wore stacked heeled shoes, tight t-shirts over his lithe muscular body, sported a neat Afro and strutted down the hall of the NYC office like he owned the place.  Or, as my friend and colleague said:

 

“He looks like he is on the make.”  Not too flattering, but no matter.  

 

It all started when he, with characteristic flare, placed his driver’s license on my desk. May 16, 1943.  We were destined, written in the stars, a done deal …apparently.  

 

“I’m moving to NYC to be with you.”  Um, really?  Do I want that?  You are exaggerating, for sure. But we had a good thing going, he was fascinating, exotic to me, he built a relationship with my 7-year-old. 

 

He thinks we broke up because he started up with the daughter of one of our bosses.  I think I simply wiggled out of it, actually starting up with the son of another boss.  Oh my, those days!  

 

A few years ago, we started connecting on our birthdays, all by texts.  Julian now long ago settled back in Chicago and married to a lawyer.  

 

The texts became more and more romantic.  Partnerless for many years I was having a good time.  Bereft if I didn’t hear right back from him.  He still loved me, he could never forget me, on and on.  It was getting to be TOO much.  

 

“We have to stop this.” “Why?”  “You really don’t know??!!”

 

Our birthday hellos by email continued for a few years until one year I didn’t answer his call and didn’t call back.  I didn’t want to be the person I was back then.  

 

May 16 this year, he left a nice birthday message.  I texted back, “it was nice to hear from you.”  We shared a life together, he meant a lot to my daughter in her childhood, he is one of my very few ex’s still alive!

 

Well, that set off a blurry of texts: “you are still unforgettable to me.” “I am going to call you tomorrow.”  

 

Hmmm, do I answer or not?