Flowers For My Valentine...

The roses were the first sign.

Wait, that wasn't right.

The roses were the proof that what she had been thinking was right.

They were beautiful roses. What her mother called "proud flowers" the ones with the very long, very straight stems. Two dozen, long stem, red roses delivered to her office. Every woman around her was jealous of them. And that was the point wasn't it? To make them jealous. To show how loved she was. That was the point of very public declarations of love. To show the world "I am loved." and not just that but the added, "I am loved more than you, June, I see your sad little mixed bouquet over there."

It reminded her of elementary school when they all would craft their boxes for valentines cards, little construction paper covered mailboxes. During the class party people would open their boxes and read their cards. The very popular kids showing the candy and treats they got with their stacks and stacks of cards, some of the very pretty girls even getting a card from a boy in the next grade up. That was something to be show off for sure. And then there were the less popular ones cherishing their 5 or 6 cards, even while knowing that they only got cards from the kids whose parents made them give everyone in the class a card. But at least they got a card. Not an empty envelope. Davey Fredrick received 7 empty envelopes one year. One empty envelope could have been a mistake, but seven? At least he got one actual valentine as well. Though he was so embarrassed about the empty envelopes she wasn't sure it made that much of a difference.

Then there was High School, where the student body government sold candy grams for a Valentine's Day fundraiser. The kids who received them would safety pin the notes they came with to their shirts. A walking display of popularity. And then the kid who took pictures for the yearbook would take a shot and it would end up as a permanent record of how very loved they were. More than you, I see you with your pocket full of safety pins and zero notes to show for it. It never would have crossed the student body government group to not sell candy grams, after all, they would all get them, they could never imagine a Davey Fredrick waiting every year for a gram that never came. Even after sending out 20 of them himself.

But here she was at work now with the equivalent of a box stuffed to overflowing with cards and a shirt covered in notes. She was loved. With proud flowers.

Her mother knew everything about flowers. She should have been a botanist. Or at least worked in a greenhouse or florist shop. But she didn't. She worked as a checker at the grocery store. But she had a beautiful garden at home. Filled with gorgeous flowers. Not proud flowers. Not those, she didn't care for long stem roses, she said they were lovely in a vase, but not attractive in a garden and since she didn't want flowers for a vase she didn't want those. Her mother had a strict no cut flowers rule. She loved them, but only when they were growing. Once you cut them they started to die. And what for? So you could see them inside on the table instead of outside in the yard? That was just selfish. So every year her father bought her mother flowers for her birthday, Mother's Day, their anniversary, Valentine's Day, but he bought her flowers. Not cut flowers. Bushes, trees, seeds, living things. And her garden was impressive.

Anyway, here she was. Two dozen proud flowers. The outward sign that everything she thought was actually true.

Her phone buzzed. She knew the text would be from him before she read it. "Did you get them?"

She took a picture and sent it.

"You shouldn't have."

"Just wait!"

She smiled at everyone who told her how lovely they were. How lucky she was. She nodded and told people the name of the florist from the card. Such straight stems, such a deep red, so many flowers.

She left them on her desk when she left work. They were going to dinner and there was no way to carry them. It would have been impossible. But he still looked disappointed when she stepped out of the cab without them.

"I thought you would bring them home with you?"

"Not tonight, there were so many of them. It would have been a lot to manage."

He smiled, "I know it was a lot. But I wanted you to have them. Did everyone see them?"

She gave a small laugh, "I don't think they could help but see them."

He threw his head back and laughed loudly. "That's the point!"

She nodded, "Yes, yes it is."

He ushered her in to the restaurant. Dimly lit, candles on every table, tables all set for two. Very romantic in a this is what romance is supposed to look like sort of way. He walked her toward the table in the front window. It was set beautifully. China and silver shimmering in the flickering light. Champagne already poured and waiting. He pulled out her chair.

"I know you don't usually like big showy things, but it's Valentine's Day so I just had to."

"You really didn't have to."

"No, I did, I just want everyone to see how special you are."

She gave her small smile again.

The waiter came to the table and she waited to hear the specials, forgetting that it was Valentine's Day so of course, there would be a set menu. No choices.

He asked if they wanted anything other than the champagne to drink. Oh here was a choice after all!

"No, just this, thank you, we are celebrating!" He answered for them both.

The waiter smiled, a little too largely, and nodded, "Very good. I'll bring your first course."

He reached across the table and picked up her hand, "I want to..."

She cut him off, "I need to use the restroom. I'll be right back."

She got up and walked to the back of the restaurant. She caught the attention of their waiter, "Tell me."

He looked flustered, "Tell you what?"

She cocked her head to the side, "You know exactly what. Tell me. Yes or no?"

"Yes, but not until dessert, it's been planned out to the minute, don't let on that you know!"

She sighed, the roses had given it away. The outward sign that she had been right. She shook her head.

She went back to the table. He poured more champagne and picked up her hand again. "What is your favorite Valentine's Day memory?" She knew he was asking so he could tell her how this would replace it.

"I don't have one."

"Oh come on, everyone has one. How did your parents celebrate?"

"My father bought my mother a flower for her garden, my mother cooked my father's favorite lasagne. We ate dinner as a family and talked about where mom would plant her latest treasure. How it would fit in to the yard we already had."

He looked puzzled, "That's not very romantic."

"It's extremely romantic. He did what he knew she liked. She did what she knew he liked. And they included all of us because we were a whole family."

He didn't get it. "What about in school? Did you ever have a secret admirer send you a card?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't think so."

"Really? We used to have big parties. And we would all open our boxes and line our cards up on our desks. The really popular kids would cover the whole desk with cards."

"Yeah, there was that in our school as well."

"And I bet your desk was covered."

She shrugged her shoulders again, "I never opened them at school. I would take them home."

"Ah, shy when you were a kid, I see. Can you believe we had one loser in our class who didn't get any cards ever? One time he got a bunch of empty envelopes, it was hilarious."

"You think so?"

"Well not for him, I'm sure, but for the rest of us? Yeah, he was a dweeb. Dweeb. Ha! I haven't used that in years, but that's what he was. You know the ones right?"

She nodded just a little, "Yes, the ones that were set apart from the rest of us. Davey Fredrick was the one in our class. Almost everyone picked on him. They got him with the empty envelope prank one year as well."

He laughed, "Classic."

The waiter brought their plates. He gave her a small panicked look but then realized she hadn't spilled the beans and relaxed again.

"This place is great, right? It was recommended by my boss as THE spot to be on Valentine's Day."

She smiled again, she had agreed to come out, granted she had forgotten it was Valentine's Day when he first suggested they have dinner here, but since she had agreed she was trying her best not to be rude. Even though she had told him months ago that she didn't celebrate Valentine's Day. Didn't care for it. Didn't like the hype and the expectations around it, but here she was. Sitting at a romantic table for two in the front window of THE spot to be on Valentine's Day.

The food was okay. That was always the problem with restaurants on Valentine's Day. Even in great restaurants the food was just okay. Fixed menus and quick table turns. Be romantic and then get out. She had worked as a busser for a while when she was in school. It was a horrible night to work as far as being busy, but a great night for tips. Just because of the turn.

She smiled thinking of her actual favorite Valentine's Day memory. She had been working at that year's THE spot to be and one of the waiters called her over and pointed at a table near the center of the restaurant. There was a middle aged couple sitting there and the man was sweating buckets. Incredibly nervous. Which happened a lot on Valentine's Day. Was he worried she would turn down his proposal? Her friend the waiter had laughed, "No, he's nervous because he brought his mistress in for lunch yesterday and I waited on them. Now his wife brought him here for a special dinner and he's afraid I'll say something." He didn't, of course, and he was very generous splitting the extra large tip he got. It paid for her books for the Spring semester. It was a very large tip.

It was getting closer and closer to dessert. He reached for her again, "These past few months have been so great. You are so great."

She smiled and sat up a little stiffly, "Six months."

"What?"

"Sorry, I was just filling in the time. It's only been six months since our first date."

"But it seems like forever. Not in a bad way, I mean, it just has been so right. You are so right for me. We are so right together."

She gave him her small smile again.

"I love that smile. That just for me smile."

She laughed. She couldn't help it.  He took that wrong.

"You have the best laugh. I want to make you laugh forever."

Well here we go. The waiter started making his way to the table. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. She held her hand out and made a flicking motion for him to go away. He either didn't see it or ignored her. He put a piece of very dry looking chocolate cake down on the table. Chocolate cake with a diamond ring artfully laid out on a mint leaf to the side.

"You have made me so happy. I love you and want you to be the sweet in my life forever. Will you..."

"Stop. Just shhh..." She put her fingers over his mouth. "Don't say anything else. Just pretend you never started."

He went from dazed happiness to confusion to anger in just a few seconds, "What?"

"Just shh. Really. Please. I'm going to get up and walk out and I'll get my own cab. It's okay. Really. I should have said something when I first thought you were going to do this. It's all my fault. Really. It is. And I know by morning you will agree. But it's only been 6 months. You don't know me. Not really.  I don't like this," she waved around the restaurant, "if you had listened to any one of the things I told you about myself you would have known that. But you didn't. I'm not this. I'm not chocolate cake proposals. I'm not proud flowers on my desk. I'm not display in a window. I'm not THE place the be on Valentine's Day. I'm the kid who shoved candy grams in to the bottom of her backpack so the people who didn't get any didn't feel like they were the only ones. I'm the one who actually gave Davey Fredrick a Valentine and then sent him extras every year after that signed 'A secret admirer' so he could pretend."

"Who is Davey Fredrick?"

She bit her lips together then smiled her small smile again, "Exactly."

She reached into her purse for her wallet.

"Wait, no! You aren't paying!"

"It's not for you. It's for him." She gave the waiter an extra tip, "I'm sorry for the scene. It's not your fault."

And then she left.

She left him sitting in the front window of THE place to be on Valentine's Day. Six months. Who does that at 6 months? She called her mother.

"So were you right?"

"Yes."

"And what did you say?"

She was quiet. "He bought me proud flowers."

"Well, some people like that sort of thing, you know."

"But not me."

"Oh hey, while I've got you on the line here, do you know who I ran in to the other day?"

"Umm, no?"

"Davey Fredrick. Do you remember him? From school? He's back in town. Asked how you were doing. I didn't mention you were about to get engaged. So..."

"Mother!"

"Well he grew up nice, is all I'm saying. Real good looking man now. And he seemed to have very fond memories of you."

She smiled. The real one. That moved her entire face. "That makes me happy to hear."