I was feeling something I hadn’t expected. It was difficult to put a finger on exactly what it was. No, it couldn’t be. My palms were sweaty. Was I nervous? That would quite simply be ridiculous. This wasn’t a date or even anything remotely close to that. I was meeting Katy, my best friend.

Maybe, this is normal. After all, I haven’t seen her in two years since she left for Australia and what I’m feeling is just the excitement of seeing her again. It is sort of strange though, when we were teenagers she lived across the way from me. We saw each other most days. I would wait for her outside of her house for a chat after school most days. Unless it was raining or too cold, which happened often during the colder months. Disability and inclement weather do not mix very well. She would waive to me in the distance, her long, brown hair bobbling over her blue uniform when she saw that I was waiting for her.

We would talk about life, school, music and our major crushes of the day. They were good times.

Occasionally, we would go into one of our houses and play some computer games, the only problem being that we both hated to lose. Once, she even stopped talking to me for a few days! It was something that even she was able to laugh about as we aged. In fairness, she was only fourteen at the time.

That was probably when we were at our closest. Having gone to an all-boys school, she was my only female friend and definitely the only girl I didn’t feel really shy around. I was the first one that she told about her first boyfriend. Yes, I was jealous wishing that I had whatever traits it was that made him special to her. But, I fought and hid those feelings. Her friendship was too important. Then there were other boyfriends, the jealousy faded. It was just the way things would be.

We didn’t see each other as often, when college as we went to separate places. Then it was her time to listen about my first girlfriend and different sexual experiences.

Then, two years after both of us graduated she left for the other side of the world. We had promised to keep in touch and although I tried, I heard little from her.

She is now ten minutes late. She always was, in the old days I’d always be at least this late myself to make sure I wouldn’t be waiting around too long. I’ve never been at his hotel previously having driven up to the outskirts of Dublin to meet her. She chose a good spot. The vast bar is only sparsely populated and it didn’t take me long to find a table.

Then, I think I see her pulling up in a car outside.