THE next day, I awoke as usual to the sound of Eric Clapton's "24 Nights" CD and began the day with my usual air guitar jam to "Let It Rain." I fed my cats, Buttons and Beau, and took Sneakers, my dog, out for a walk. My dog , as of late, had become my best friend and confidante. When we returned, after feeding him, I plopped down on the couch to review my assignments before turning them in that day. Luckily for me, Les had financially taken care of us the entire time we were married, and upon his passing, we were in even better shape financially than when he was alive, having left us with various life insurance policies that would provide for me and my pets for the rest of our lives.

As I opened my English Lit notebook, I noticed something written on the front cover in someone else's handwriting. I looked at it and realized it was a phone number. No name, just a number. I got the phone and dialed it. No answer, dammit, then the answering machine came on. "Hi, you have reached ME. If you don't know who ME is, then you have the wrong number. If you DO know who ME is, please leave a message and I will get back to you as sure as the sun rises in the morning. Have a nice day (BEEP)" Then I hung up the phone as quickly as I could.

I sat there for a good long time thinking that maybe I should have left a message at least, but then realized that if I did that, what would I say? "Oh, hi. I saw your number on my notebook, so I had to call to see if it was you?" For some strange reason, I felt that fear again rising inside of me, like the mercury on the hottest of days. This young man was already beginning to get under my skin, and I hadn't decided if I wanted him there or not.

At just the moment I was lost in thought, Sneakers bounded over to me and started nudging me in the stomach, something he'd done to me and Les exclusively since puppyhood. I was quickly snapped back into reality and went to take a shower and get ready for school.

I arrived a few minutes early, as was my usual, to avoid being tripped on the way in, and sat down at my desk. I reviewed the outline I had done the night before on Jack Kerouac and hardly noticed Isaac as he sat down beside me. When I finally looked up from my papers, I had immediately noticed that Paul wasn't with him, and I notice a difference in Isaac's appearance from just the day before. His hair was down and hung at his shoulders with a wave to it that framed his defined face perfectly. He wore a burgundy patterene silk shirt and jeans that fit his elongated lower half to a "T", and black boots with buckles on them on the LARGEST feet I've ever seen a human being be graced with. I felt safest looking at his feet, no trouble there, I thought as I said,"Good morning" to him. He replied "Good morning to you, too. Did you get my scrawl?" "You mean the number? Uh, yes I did, but I have't used it yet because I wasn't sure it was you. You know, so many guys just leave their phone numbers on my notebooks and all..." and I giggled, hoping to God he wouldn't realize that I was lying to him. "Well, that's ok. I figured you'd need it to make plans to get some studio time in and make some room for the library and all, and well, we DO have tons of work to get done as a team and..." I interjected. "It's ok Isaac, you don't have to worry about it, it's no big deal." trying to calm down a obvious case of nerves happening. "I't's just that I don't want your husband thinking anything is all." said Isaac, to save face. "I don't have a husband, he died 7 months ago, and I really don't care to discuss it. Not here, not now, so please don't go there." I said as kindly as I could muster despite the fact that inside, I was still recovering from my loss. Isaac quickly changed the subject. "My family is coming out here in a few weeks. Do you know of any good hotels that aren't in Boston? I have 2 parents, 3 brothers, and 3 sisters who need a nice place to say OUTSIDE of Boston. It's kind of a short notice thing and I'm not really from around here, so do you have any suggestions?" I promised I'd check out a few places and get back to him the next day.

"So, where ARE you from?" I asked casually. He replied 'I'm from, uh, um.... Milwaukee. That's where my umm , family lives, but we also have a house in California that I've spent some at as well. And you?" But I didn't have time to explain and we agreed to meet between classes for lunch.

At lunch, as we ate matching grilled chicken salads, we talked about how each of us had found Tufts, the classes we liked and disliked and life in general and about oursleves. I found Isaac to be far wiser than his 18 years had let on and much more mature than most people even my OWN AGE. As we walked ack to the next class after lunch, we made plans for him to come to my house so we could work on our lit papers and run some songs by each other for the demo.

The rest of the day was a blur, and production class was spent on voice analysis. When Isaac went into the production room for his assessment, I was pleasantly surprised to find that he had an extremely strong, emotional midrange low voice that everyone in the class was impressed with and already had seemed to be familiar with. Nobody in that class was as impressed as I was however, and I left the class thinking that I had come across a very GIFTED young man indeed.

When I got home, I got out the yellw pages and called around for hotels for Isaac's family and was sadly disappointed to find that they were all booked solid for the next 4 weeks because of the regatta races at Harvard. I decided to share my house and let them stay with me. After all, I had a huge house that was only made larger by the fact that I was the only one living in it, and I thought the place could benefit from the presence of children. I thought it best to give Isaac the news that night, and I found myself elated at the prospect of guests arriving, even though I had no idea who these people were or even if Isaac would go for the whole thing, but it seened lately that I had been getting excited over a LOT of things that I wasn't sure of.