Ask, and you shall receive.

So I'm working at the register at the store today, and Marc, the guy working next to me, answers the phone.

Suddenly I hear him say into the phone, "Yes ... Benjamin is here."

I look over at Marc for a second, and he tells me that I have a call on Line Two.

It was my first time someone called me at the store. I figured my mom needed something or someone like Lupo read the blog and was preparing to be extra thoughtful and kind with me. Maybe Larry needed to talk to me before heading to Italy.

"Who is it?" I asked Marc.

"I don't know," Marc replied. "It sounded like someone's dad."

Hmm. I haven't dated any teens lately.

Still, I had lots of customers, so I kept the person on hold while I waited on people.

When the line died for a moment, I picked up the phone.

The person on the line, a distinctive, deep, scruffy voice I haven't heard in over a year, left me in a momentary state of shock.

It was Ron. My friend Ron. My completely awesome, thoroughly lovable friend Ron. My friend Ron from college. My friend Ron who asked me to the movies during summer quarter 1996 after we met in the economics seminar that I barely attended. My friend Ron who I once tracked down over the Internet when I was living in boring, religious Augusta after college. My friend Ron from CNN. My friend Ron who helped me get hired at CNN. My friend Ron who has a dog named Katie. My friend Ron who looks like a football player and went with me to a Braves game on my birthday. My friend Ron who used to find the way I hit on his roommate amusing and creepy. My friend Ron who saw "Gattaca" and "Being John Malkovich" with me. My friend Ron who moved to Boston a couple years ago.

You get the idea. He spoke, and all that flooded through my head in a rush.

"Well you're certainly hard to get a hold of," he said to me.

I was silent. My jaw, actually, almost hit the damn counter when I heard his voice.

I mean, I love Ron. Lo-o-ove Ron. He's terrific.

"Um, hello?" Ron asked into the phone, for I still hadn't actually said anything on the phone.

"Oh, sorry," I said. "I'm just ... in a state of shock."

He asked me if I was free after work. I told him I was working until 10. He told me that he was in town.

"Visiting?" I asked.

"Actually, I'm in town," he said. "I'm working at CNN again."

He's getting a house in Brookhaven with his partner in a couple weeks. He'll be, like, five minutes away.

I repeated that I was working until 10. Then a manager looked at me like I was the guy who's only worked there two weeks and was taking a personal call, and the line of customers flared up again.

"I'm sorry," I said into the phone, the whole thing going so fast. "I have to go again."

I hit the hold button.

"CAN I HELP THE NEXT PERSON?" I shouted at the line.

Through with that customer, I looked down at the phone.

There was no joy on Line Two. It wasn't blinking a little green light of held happiness at me.

Ron was gone. Gone. Ron, gone.

And I didn't know where he was staying or how to contact him. I didn't mean to have such an abrupt chat. Hell, I didn't even know how on Earth he'd even found me. If he had any number for me, it would've been an old one. And how in the hell did he know I worked at that bookstore?

It was all too much to take in while dealing with the customers.

During my brief break a few minutes later, I tried to figure out a way to track him back down.

I called my cell phone's voicemail, and he'd left me a message there with a long-distance phone number that I wasn't going to be able to use until I got home, the concept of which sucked. I wanted instant gratification.

Which I got about a half-hour later when a smiling, table-browsing Ron waved at me from over by the Customer Service desk.

With no customers in line, I walked past a co-worker and a couple managers over to the desk and hugged Ron.

God, I've missed him. You don't even know how much. I didn't even know.

It was one of those things where he told me he was moving because it was right for him, and I couldn't come up with a convincing enough reason for him not to go since I don't carry that kind of clout with him. So he left, and I focused on other stuff. And I would call him. But he was out of touch. We were out of touch. It wasn't intended. The cards just fell that way.

When Ron is in my orbit, though, he brings an entirely different perspective to the table. He's unlike anyone I've ever met. He's strong, smart, savvy, understanding, cool, ballsy, blunt, sensitive and completely honest. Oh, and he's athletic and could hold his own in a fight. And he's tattooed. And a writer. And some kind of Web genius.

He fascinates me, and it was hard for me not to just grin like the damn Cheshire cat when I saw him.

He's a friend. A friend who's seen me in some of my worst moments and yet has remained my friend. He's the sort who, despite a year out-of-touch, will use an old address book to call my mother to get my cell number and find out where I have a weekend job.

I needed that hug today so much that, if you looked in my previous posts, you'll see I asked for it.

We went to dinner during my 30-minute break.

The closest place was a McDonald's, actually, but I saw "Super Size Me" on Friday and told Ron that I'm never eating there willingly ever again.

Ron started laughing, saying that he'd seen the same movie that afternoon and didn't want to eat there either. Apparently, when he was in the movie theater, that's what got him thinking about looking me up.

(Thank you, Limited Release Documentary Film!)

During my break, we ate fast at Moe's Southwestern Grill, which was actually really good, and we spoke of seeing movies, of recent vacations and how we're doing nowadays.

It seems like, when you break it down, we're both doing pretty well.

The good vibe I got from seeing Ron today - and finding out that he's in the area again - helped me through my day. It was just what I needed.