15. Morning

Rise and shine. The morning of my meeting Nook had finally arrived.  Well, that was the theory at least.  As you’ve seen from the other pages, there were a lot of scenarios that could play out here, and this story has only barely begun.

Because of the “Complications” mentioned, I could not exactly reach out to Nook and make sure she was still going to visit me.  Indeed, the most I could do was to sit and wait next to my email, next to my iPhone, and hope for some sign of contact.

Since she was unable to meet me the night before due to work commitments, we had decided that she would bring coffee to my hotel room and let that be our meeting.


Sweet suite.

This meeting of Nook had been over a decade in the making.  I had no idea what to expect; nor, I’m sure, did she know what to expect of me.

I’m not talking about the physical reality vs. Internet reality - we had exchanged pictures after all.

Since we ended up deciding to make our first meeting in private, I decided to splurge a bit and get a suite at the hotel I was staying at.  This provided for a very clear physical, and psychological, distinction between the sitting and chatting space and the sleeping space.  There was even a set of double doors between those two spaces.

Even though Nook and I had been joking about Scenarios greater than 7, neither of us was so foolish as to believe that was a given.  Perhaps we were mutually optimistic, but beyond that...

So the room afforded this division, this opportunity to keep distance, but options not to - it seemed important to me that we both be as comfortable as possible, and given the complexities of our first meeting, and how it had come about, I certainly did not want to presume anything.



Now I sat and waited.  My phone turned on, ringer enabled.  Email checking every few seconds.  I waited for some sign that Nook would show up, that she would come at all.   She knew where I was, and if her heart would allow her to meet me, she would show up.

I had travelled thousands of kilometres to be here, across many timezones.

The rest, the final piece, was up to Nook.



At just about quarter past seven in the morning, I got an email from Nook: “I’m on my way.”

We exchanged a few quick mails, I told her my heart was thumping away like mad.  The reality, finally, approaching.



Nearly an hour later, and after quite a bit of silence from Nook, I received another email:  “Are you going to let me in when I knock?”

I was worried she would not show.  She was worried I was not there, or would not answer.  She was wondering if all my messages and GPS updates and so on weren’t just some elaborate ruse.  That it was some sort of cruel joke being played upon her.

I swore to her I’d let her in.  Into my room.  Into my heart.

Any.  Minute.  Now.