The following is part two of the story The Day I Met Her.
“Why thank you,” she responded politely. She turned her attention back to the front of the line as it started to move again. I started feeling panicked, and my brain scrambled to think of something to hold her attention. This woman was my hero, and I was not ready for the encounter to end. I thought about just continuing to talk but decided against it. She did not seem impressed with my ramble earlier, and I didn’t want to risk upsetting her. I thought about offering to buy her drink but decided that would be borderline creepy. I even thought about accidentally spilling my drink on her so that I could help her clean it up and, therefore, spend more time with her but I decided that would just make me look like a clumsy fool, and that was not what I wanted her to think of me.
I found none of these ideas appealing but she was almost at the front of the line, and I knew I had to hurry if I didn’t want to watch her walk right out the door.
Suddenly I had an idea, one that just might work. I frantically dug into my purse and after a few seconds produced my beloved notebook. I had spent hours cutting clips from the newspaper and printing articles online and cutting out those clips. I had spent a few more hours perfecting her name in the most beautiful cursive script you could imagine. Finally, I had spent a week laying out exactly how I wanted it assembled and then attaching it all to the front of a binder. It had been a painstaking process, but the result looked amazing.
“I’m sorry to bother you again Eve but could I trouble you for an autograph?” I asked her timidly. I did not want her to think I was some creepy stalker but rather a dedicated fan.
She turned around again, this time, coffee in hand and eyed the book I had cradled in my arms.
“Did you make that,” she asked me. I was glad that she seemed intrigued by the book and not utterly repelled by it and felt a huge sense of relief.
“I did,” I told her proudly, “I meant it when I said I was a huge fan.”
“May I,” she asked.
“Of course,” I replied. I could feel my cheeks flush once again as I handed her the book.
She stepped over to an empty couch and set her coffee down on the table. She looked over the book lovingly, running her fingers over all the individual clips before coming to rest at an empty spot right in the middle of the cover.
“What’s this for,” she asked curiously.
“Well you see, I had always dreamed that I would get to meet you in person someday and so when I made the book I left a spot just for your autograph,” I told her. I couldn’t help feeling slightly embarrassed, and I continued to blush.