I will admit the year had been good me. I had a love for the year. A very sweet, wonderful, kind and generous man. I also suspected it was coming to an end. No great relationship ever worked out for me and until now, I had done well to protect my heart. But I suspected this year would be no different than the past. I would once again be dumped on a holiday, which was why I refused to acknowledge Valentine’s Day.
Maybe my negative attitude toward the holiday was a bit much, but I’d been burned too many times to let my guard down. In eighth grade, the boy of my adolescent dreams broke up with me in a haunted house, leaving me behind to find my own way out. He was immature and so was I, but that night left a lasting impression. Sophomore year, I got dumped on Thanksgiving, and my senior year boyfriend ended our relationship on Christmas Eve. In college, my fiancé decided to kiss my roommate at midnight on New Year’s Eve instead of me. Nobody had ever broken up with me on an uneventful day in the middle of summer. It was always a holiday. So far, Valentine’s Day had been pain free and I intended to keep it that way. Even if it meant I must avoid Joe the entire day.
I pushed for celebrating Mardi Gras instead, and even tried to talk Joe into going to New Orleans, but he couldn’t get off work in the middle of the week. He suggested a quiet dinner on Valentine’s Day, which happened to fall on a Sunday. I reminded him that I do not take part in that holiday, but that he was more than welcome to celebrate Fat Tuesday with me two days later. He laughed and mumbled something about compromising with Monday. We rarely saw each other on the first day of the week because it was an exhausting day for both of us, so I discounted his potential plans.
As we sat at dinner with some of his work friends, I counted off the days—ten to go.
“Joe, do you have a minute,” Darla, who was dating Joe’s best friend, whispered in his ear. I wished I hadn’t heard, but I did. Over the past weeks she had found ways to pull Joe away from the table when we were out to dinner, or onto the dance floor when we went to the Latin club, and used any number of excuses to be with him, away from me.
Joe looked at me and shrugged before he placed his napkin on the table and rose to follow the voluptuous blonde. Darla was actually very sweet, I just didn’t like her very much at the moment, and I was afraid Joe’s feelings for her had moved beyond friendship. I tried not to watch after them, but I couldn’t help myself. They were such a striking couple when they stood side by side. Darla had curly, naturally blonde hair, the warmest brown eyes and full, pouty lips. Joe was simply handsome, with thick, black hair and deep blue eyes. Tonight there was a shadow on his face because he refused to shave on the weekend. It gave him a rugged look, and my pulse raced just watching him.
Darla laughed up at Joe and placed her hand on his arm. Joe, in turn, leaned forward and said something quietly back to her. Did they have to carry on like that, in front of everyone? Wouldn’t it be more polite to wait and break off our relationship before carrying on with the other?
I forced my eyes away and glanced around the table at our friends to determine their reaction. How could they carry on, oblivious to Darla fawning all over my boyfriend? Didn’t they realize my relationship with Joe was on the verge of falling apart?
I looked across the table to Tim, Darla’s boyfriend. He didn’t seem concerned in the least. How was that possible? Darla was constantly at Joe’s side, whispering in his ear, taking him off, away from the others. How could Tim ignore such behavior and pretend as if nothing was going on?
Perhaps he didn’t care. Maybe he would be relieved when the charade was up and Darla was out of his hair. That was fine for Tim but certainly not fine with me. I actually liked Joe.
But I hated how weak I felt. I hated that I had fallen in love with Joe. With anyone. I knew how these things ended, so why did I let myself get caught up? Please, don’t let him end it on Valentine’s Day. That would be worse than any of the others. I wasn’t sure I would survive it.
Joe finally returned a few minutes later and took his seat next to me. He leaned over and kissed me on the lips as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
“Have I told you how beautiful you are tonight?” he whispered against my cheek.
My face warmed, but I said nothing. Why the compliment? I didn’t look any different than I usually did, and beautiful could never be a word to describe my appearance. Maybe Joe felt guilty for going off with Darla.
I stared into his deep blue eyes, trying to determine the sincerity of his words. His touch warmed me, his arms offered comfort. I did not want to live without this man but how could I hang on to him? Each second, he slipped further away. If only Darla would disappear, then I wouldn’t have to worry. But as long as she was flouncing around with her perky personality, I was doomed.
*
“I’m afraid Cattie may be suspicious.”
I stopped just outside the door. I knew I shouldn’t eavesdrop, but Joe’s words into the phone stopped me cold. I wish I knew who he was talking to.
“We need to be more careful. We can’t talk when she’s around.”
It had to be Darla. That was the only person he ever singled out. Or, I should say, she singled him out.
“She’s going to suspect something if you keep dragging me away. Let’s keep the conversations to the office or the phone.”
I had confirmation. Joe and Darla were involved. I don’t think I could call it an affair since none of us were married, but it hurt just the same. Why didn’t he just end the relationship? Did he want us both and Darla was willing to share? What about Tim? Did he even suspect?
Instead of letting on that I knew, I pasted a smile on my face and entered the room with the bowl of popcorn and two beers I had gone to retrieve. I placed them on the table and grabbed the quilt my grandmother had made me for my eighteenth birthday. Joe snuggled next to me and pressed the button to start the movie. He was the one to pick Casablanca, and now I wondered if it wasn’t some form of a hint. That relationship hadn’t worked out in the end, either.
I put Darla from my mind and decided to enjoy this evening with Joe. I was warm and comfortable with his arm draped around my shoulder, popcorn bowl between us, and beers in our hands. Tonight I would continue to play the fool and take every moment I could with him.
*
I always knew Joe liked movies. New ones, old ones, classic, b-grade. I was pretty sure he’d never met a movie he didn’t like. So I wasn’t surprised when he showed up at my door on Saturday, the day before Valentine’s Day, with a sack full of DVDs and VHS tapes.
“I’ve been going through my collection and forgot I had these.”
I took the bag from him and walked into the living room to deposit the movies by the television.
Joe took off his coat and hung it in the closet before following me into the room. “The cold front is moving in, and I don’t think either of us wants to be out in an ice storm today.”
I couldn’t agree more. Several times I had checked on the weather and the forecast did not bode well for anyone wishing to dine out tomorrow. However, I was concerned with Joe being here now. If the roads did become impassable, he would need to spend the night, thus putting him in my home on Valentine’s Day. It was something I was completely against. Perhaps I was just being superstitious, but I wanted to get through this one last “couples holiday,” the last until fall, with my heart intact.
Although, would he really break up with me if he couldn’t leave the house? That would be terribly uncomfortable and inconvenient for both of us. Perhaps I should hope for a sheet of ice to cover everything.
He wandered into the kitchen. I followed.
“Since we may be stuck here for a few days, I thought to bring dinner.” From another bag, he pulled out two steaks, potatoes, two bottles of wine, fixings for a salad and a chocolate mousse cake. My stomach growled. If anything, Joe knew how to cook. He should have been a chef with his own restaurant. The items on the counter seemed like a safe and basic meal that anyone could prepare, but I knew that
once Joe was finished adding his special touches, spice and personality, the meal would be better than anything you could order in the best restaurants in the country. It was no wonder all my pants fit more snugly these days. This I blamed on him, but I refused to worry about it at the moment. I would start my new exercise program on Monday, if we were still together then.
“Why don’t you go pick out the first movie,” he suggested as he pierced the plastic surrounding the steaks. “I know how you love tear-jerkers, so that’s all I brought.”
I wasn’t exactly in the mood to cry given the situation. I would have preferred a bunch of comedies. But it was sweet of Joe to remember my usual preference. I read through the titles— Annie Hall, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Shoot the Moon, Splendor in the Grass, and War of the Roses.
The movies sat there on the table, each one of them mocking me. My desire for an ice storm disappeared, and I hoped Joe would be able to return to his own home tonight. I now knew for sure. Our relationship would soon come to an end. Why else would he have brought me a bag full of break up movies?
*
The sun streamed in through the living room window as I stretched my arms above my head. My hand encountered Joe’s face, and I was awake in an instant. How could I have allowed him to spend the night? Now I would be forced to face him on this day, Valentine’s Day, and I knew my heart would never recover.
“I was wondering when you would wake up.” Joe smiled down at me before he pulled me close for a hug. “I’ve always liked sleeping with you, but the bed is way more comfortable.”
I sat up abruptly and scooted away from him. “Do you want some breakfast?”
“Coffee is fine.” He pulled me back against him. “But it can wait. I like lying here all lazy and warm.”
I did too, but I wasn’t going to allow the comfort to take over.
“It won’t brew itself.” I pulled away and stood.
Joe sighed and let his arms drop. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” He grinned at me.
My heart raced. “Joe, you know I hate this day and all the pressure it puts on couples.”
“I know,” he chuckled. “I won’t mention it again.”
A part of me was relieved. Yet, if he agreed not to make a big deal of the date, did that mean he felt nothing? Oh, I hated that I did this to myself. Wanting to be loved as much as I loved him and wanting to be safe where pain couldn’t touch me. I knew it was impossible to have both and at the moment, I wasn’t sure which I wanted more. I glanced at the couch as I poured water into the pot. Joe looked incredibly sexy with his sleep-tussled hair. I think for today, I will enjoy love. The words had been shared between us, but not for weeks. I wouldn’t utter them today, but if Joe did, I certainly wouldn’t mind.
*
There were no visible traces of her, but I knew Darla had been in my apartment. The cloying scent of her gardenia perfume hung in the air My heart plummeted. At least I had Valentine’s Day to treasure.
I looked around the room for evidence. A long blond hair, indent from her shoe in the carpet. Nothing. Had the perfume not been present I may have been able to continue to lie to myself.
I paused to look at my own appearance in the mirror just inside the hall closet door. My dark hair frizzed from the humidity and the blouse that had been so crisp this morning was wrinkled. The tailored skirt was a bit snug. I really needed to get back to the gym, and perhaps a diet wouldn’t be a bad idea either.
I shook the thoughts from my head. This was not my fault, and I couldn’t take it any longer. It was time to confront Joe.
He stood at the stove in the kitchen and I stopped in my tracks. Heavenly scents of oregano, basil and garlic permeated the air. He was cooking my favorite Italian meal. Fresh bread sticks, warm and shiny with garlic butter, sat in a wire basket on the counter. On the dining room table was my best china, lit candles, and a bottle of Merlot beside two wine glasses.
Joe only prepared these elaborate meals for two reasons. To deliver very good news…or very bad news. I braced myself for the worst and breezed into the room. Stopping at the table, I poured a glass of wine and took a fortifying drink. Then I poured one for Joe and took it to him. “What’s the occasion?” I tried to sound chipper.
Joe turned and grinned. His blue eyes danced with amusement. “Don’t you know?”
He wouldn’t be smiling if it were bad news. Or, maybe he was trying to soften the blow.
“No,” I finally answered.
Joe raised an eyebrow and went back to stirring the marinara sauce.
I leaned against the counter, cradling my wine glass, wondering what he was up to. Joe reached over and turned the CD player on. Handel. Now I knew he was up to something.
He filled the plates before escorting me to a chair. A single rose sat at the head of my plate. Why hadn’t I noticed that before? I picked it up and breathed in its scent.
“So really…what’s the occasion?” I asked again.
“Eat your dinner.”
The meal progressed in silence. The only sound was the classical music wafting through the room. It became harder to swallow. If Joe planned to end our relationship, would he be grinning?
“What was that?” I asked when I heard the latch on the front door click.
“Nothing, I’m sure,” he said a little too casually. “Are you finished?”
I nodded. I wanted to enjoy the food but my stomach was in too many knots to taste.
“Why don’t you go get into something more comfortable,” he suggested as he picked up the plates and carried them to the kitchen.
I refilled my wine glass and then stood. If my skirt was snug before, it was downright uncomfortable now. Could Joe tell? And was that why he subtly suggested the change? My pajama pants would certainly be more comfortable. As I turned and took a step into the hall, I stopped short. A piece of paper lay on the floor in front of a trail of rose petals. I stooped to pick it up. It was one of Joe’s journal entries, written a year ago.
I met the most amazing girl today. Her name was Cattie. Midnight hair, crystal green eyes and a musical laugh. I now believe in love at first sight. Tomorrow I’m going to ask her out. I hope she says yes…and I hope she likes Italian.
I walked further down the hall. Another note was on the floor in front of the closed bedroom door.
My love has grown daily. When I don’t think it was possible to love you more, you smile and I fall deeper into the abyss.
The bedroom was completely dark. Flickering light came from the master bath and I was pulled forward. Dozens of candles lit the room. The tub was filled to the rim with bubbles. Unable to resist the call of the soothing water, I divested myself of my clothing, pinned up my hair and climbed in. A sigh escaped as my head rested against the tiles. I took a sip of the Merlot and closed my eyes.
The silence was broken by the sounds of Handel coming from the bedroom, and I was torn between staying in the bath and jumping out to find out what else Joe had planned. I decided to stay until the water grew cool and the wine was gone.
Pulling the terry robe tight, I wandered into the bedroom where more candles had been lit while I luxuriated in the tub. A negligee lay out on the bed with another note.
I have always loved you in pale green. Let your hair down and join me in the living room.
I lifted the satiny item. I had not worn anything this revealing since, well, never for Joe. A thrill of excitement shot through me. I did as he asked and then brushed out my hair. The silk flowed around me, falling to the floor. I felt insecure and sexy at the same time.
Joe was waiting for me, a fire burned bright in the room. His eyes shown with love as he reached out to me. Once I was seated he presented a small black box.
My hands shook as I opened it. A diamond ring lay nestled against black velvet. I blinked back tears and looked up at Joe.
“I don’t care much for Valentine’s Day, either.” He grinned. “Especially since February fifteenth is a much more important day. It is the
day I first saw you.”
I swiped the tear from my cheek and held out my left hand.
“I love you,” he whispered before brushing his lips against mine.
I smiled as tears rolled down my face and looked into his eyes. “And I love you.”
I didn’t ask why Darla had been in the house. Who better to call on for help? Darla was an event planner after all.
THE END
****~
Some Like It Hot
Jerrica Knight-Catania
I once thought that all I wanted from life was to land great roles at great theaters that would eventually lead me to The Great White Way. So when I landed the role of Annie in Annie Get Your Gun one summer, I was elated. An actual leading role at a reputable summer stock theater. Who cared if it was out in the middle of nowhere, or that boarding my cat cost more than I’d get paid? It had taken me ten long years to get here, and I was going to enjoy it.
I wasn’t terribly surprised when I pulled up to the theater housing to find it old and a bit rundown. It wasn’t like I was Bernadette Peters. I would just have to make do.
The weather was hot and sticky when I left the comfort of my air-conditioned car. The kind of heat that makes you feel like you should be drinking mint juleps on the front porch, not moving your stuff up three flights of stairs to an equally hot apartment share.
My roommate was there already, unpacking her things.
“Hi!” I said, mustering as much enthusiasm as I could. I was so hot and tired, though, that all I wanted to do was lie down and take a nap.
“Hey! You must be Melissa.” The perky blond—obviously a dancer—bounded across the room and shook my hand. “I’m Kelly.”
“Nice to meet you, Kelly.” She was perfect. Gorgeous blond hair, perfect skin, perfect body, and a face I was pretty sure no guy would be able to resist. Suddenly, I felt incredibly inadequate.
A glimpse in the mirror above the dresser showed me just how inadequate I was. My red hair, which I had blown out carefully that morning, was now a ball of frizz. My makeup had mostly worn off, and my mascara was smudged around my eyes. I looked like a raccoon with pale lips and freckled cheeks. And don’t even get me started on my body. When pairing up roommates, the theaters should really take body size into account. It wasn’t fair to pair a size 0 with a size 10. Not fair at all.
Love Everlasting Page 5