"Thud," Went my Heart

A trip to Israel? I sent a quick reply to Amos saying of course, of course I would like to go to Israel! He emailed right back, saying that it was through the Canadian Pals of Israel Group (CPIG), and that he was on the board of directors. Once a year, he told me, they send a bunch of journalists to Israel, no conditions attached, to allow them to see the country through something different than the mainstream (i.e. anti-Israel) media lens. Sounded good to me.
"Are you sure," he asked, "that your bosses at the Daily Scum won’t mind?"
"They’re not my bosses," I answered. "I’m my boss!"
"Great!" he replied.
All of a sudden Amos and I were emailing again, our banter was back, the flirting was back. It went on and on for a few days. I learned, among other things, that the reason I was being asked so close to the departure date was that ToryToady#3 had been scheduled to go on the trip but had cancelled at the last minute for some kind of personal reason that Amos was unaware of. I knew Amos was unaware of what it was, because if he had known, he surely would have told me. He was telling me everything else. Completely indiscreet. Carrying on about Rebecca Chestnut, as per usual, proudly announcing that the Red Deer Report was working on a feature about her that would "completely embarrass" her, and so forth. Hmm. I wasn’t sure that was anything to be boasting about. Whatever. It wasn’t my magazine. Heck. They didn’t even want me to write for them. Or at least Colin, the editor there, didn’t.
What did it matter? Amos and I were talking, flirting, and I was going on a trip to Israel! Yayness. Everything was coming up roses.
Or so it seemed. Or so it seemed until June 22nd, 2005, a date I began -- thereafter -- to think of as "Black Wednesday." It was the day that Amos phoned me from Red Deer, for the first time. I was so flattered. I looked at the call display on my phone and saw "Red Deer Report" and my heart positively fluttered. Simply fluttered.
I picked up, trying to sound casual, trying to sound like I didn’t know who it was. "Jane?" said the voice I had been longing to hear, "It’s Amos! Amos Loewenstein."
"Oh hi," I said, feigning surprise. "How are you?"
"Good. I just called you up to bug you a little bit, joke around, you know."
"Sure!" I enthused.
The repartee began, the double entendres, the "fun" that Amos so loved...until about twenty minutes into the call (which must have been costing the Red Deer Report investors a fortune), when Amos abruptly said, "Oh, you should know Jane, that I’m not single."
Thud.
Shock.
"Oh? I thought you were divorced," I said, desperately trying to regroup.
"Well yes, but I’m involved in a relationship here in Red Deer."
Thud. The sound of my heart.
"Oh, that’s fine," I said, in faux-chipper tone.
"Well I just thought, I mean, we had what could have been considered a ‘date,’ you know, when I was in Toronto last."
"Oh no," I laughed, in faux-indifference tone. "I figured it was just a friendly night out! You know, with a bunch of friends. Charles Taylor, the ToryToadies..." I began stammering, trying to think of other "friends" who had been there. "...Polya Bratwurst..."
"Oh, okay, well, good then," said Amos.
"Yeah, cool."
Thud. My heart hitting the bottom of my stomach.
Rip. My heart being ripped out of my stomach.
Squish. Someone stepping on it.