Dreaded Days

"That sounds great! I'm really looking forward to seeing you again."

So comfortable together, we talked sweet nothings for a few minutes before we had to hang up and resume our studies. Again, I was as happy as could be and then I had a great idea.

***

I had homework due on Tuesday and a test on Wednesday, Valentine's Day, but wanting so badly to make a good and lasting impression on Cindi, I took a break from my studies late Monday afternoon and made my way across campus to the florist over on Fifth Street. A dozen roses was more expensive than I'd anticipated, but in the long run, it would be worth it.

"We'll deliver them to her dorm on Valentine's Day," said the florist with a smile. There were several other guys in the shop placing similar orders with some of the other florist ladies, so I suspected the shop was going to be quite busy.

My test on Wednesday was hard and then I had a lab so I was on pins and needles with anticipation as I rushed back to my dorm, looking forward to Cindi's call. My studies suffered that evening, and I made the trip to the quad dining hall for a takeout box and was back in near record time.

Seven o'clock.

Eight o'clock.

Nine....

They all passed in turn, with about a hundred other glances at the clock in between, but Cindi didn't call. With great difficulty from the distraction, I finished some homework, thankful that I wasn't trying to study for a test.

My resolve about waiting for her broke at 9:30 and I dialed her number. When she didn't answer, I started trying it again about every ten minutes, with each unsuccessful attempt making my disappointment grow.

"Hello?" she said at 10:10.

"Cindi! Hey, it's Grant! Happy Valentine's Day!"

"Hi, Grant. Happy Valentine's Day to you, too. How was your day?"

"Good, and yours? Did you get the flowers?"

"Flowers? What flowers?" From the tone of her voice, she obviously wasn't teasing, and she even sounded distracted.

"You didn't get them. I sent you some roses that were supposed to be delivered today."

"I'm sorry, Grant. I'm sure they were pretty but I didn't receive anything. I'm sorry."

"It's not for me, Cindi. They were for you, and I feel so bad that you didn't get them. I'll call the florist tomorrow and see what happened. It will be a little late, but I'll make sure they—"

"Grant, please. Stop. I need to tell you something. I got a surprise today, but it wasn't flowers. My ex showed up tonight and I ended up spending the whole evening talking with him. That's why I got home so late. We've, ah, mended our fences and are back together again."

"But—"

"I'm so sorry, Grant. I like you so much, but David and I were together for three years until just a few weeks ago and we loved each other before we hit a snag. I don't know where it's going, if this will work out, but we're giving us another chance, and I don't want to have you on the sidelines ready to come in if it doesn't, since that would probably mean it wouldn't work from the start. And that means I can't see you any more, Grant, not even as friends. I'm sorry."

The flowers issue was a letdown; this was an outright disaster. Not ready to give in, to give up, I tried one more time to salvage the situation.

"But Cindi, think about it. We could be so good together, too, if we had the chance. Please, give us the chance. Can you at least think about it?"

There was a little choke on the line before Cindi could respond. "You're a nice guy, Grant, a really sweet, really nice guy, and I like you a lot, a whole lot, but you're not for me and I'm not for you. I'm sorry. Take care, okay?"

She hung up without another word, leaving me listening to the tone as I held the receiver, wondering how something that felt so right could have gone so wrong.

A loud curse word slipped my lips, and then several more as I cursed Valentine's Day and all of the pomp and idiocy that it entails.

When I finally calmed myself, I hated Valentine's Day even more than ever before, and less than two hours later, I was glad when it was over.

***

Chapter 6--Thursday, February 14, 2008--College, Year 4

My encounter with Cindi had really hurt, so in the months that followed, I was more careful when meeting new girls or trying to get dates. Girls that were fresh out of a relationship didn't get a second look or a first invitation.

Due to job interviews, classes, and trying to graduate on time in case I actually got a job offer, I didn't date as much during senior year anyway, but I met one young lady, Michelle Wyman, and we'd become friends; however, I'd avoided asking her out due to my schedule and since I seemed to be getting mixed vibes from her.

Doing anything for Valentine's Day might give her the wrong idea and might scare her away, if she's actually even interested, I told myself. Still, I debated doing something, anything, over and over until it was too late to do it even if I wished.

Thus, on Valentine's Day of my senior year of college, I wore my "I HATE VALENTINE'S DAY' t-shirt to express my disdain for the day, but wore it under my sweatshirt so no one would see and ask questions. Therefore, I slogged through the day, avoiding Michelle and other young ladies, being generally unsociable. Considering the events of Valentine's Days past, I didn't want to do anything to tempt Fate or give it a chance to kick me in the balls again.

That Valentine's evening, I was in my dorm room trying to study while feeling frustrated with school, with girls, and with the whole idea of Valentine's Day in general when there was a knock on my door.

"Great," I muttered to myself. "It better not be someone saying my stereo's too loud."

I opened the door, ready to send whoever it was away when I saw Michelle Wyman standing here with her hands on her hips. Michelle was about 5'-4 and weighed all of 110 pounds soaking wet, but she was a real dynamo and I could almost see sparks flying as she stood there.

"Nothing, Grant? Not even a little card like we used to give out to classmates in elementary school? You know, like 'Be my Valentine' or something kitschy like that? I really thought I was picking up something from you, that you liked me, at least a little. But nothing?"

"Michelle, I do, I like you a lot, but it's this damn Valentine's Day. It hates me and always sabotages anything nice that I try, and I hate it, so I figured that I'd wait until—"

"Grant Norwell, you do know that Valentine's Day isn't a person and it doesn't have feelings or hold grudges, right?"

I smiled, recalling my old friend Alex saying something similar despite liking the day as little as I did.

I nodded and started to give my thoughts on the damn day's conspiracy against me but Michelle Wyman chose that moment to put her hands on face and pull me down for a kiss. I was even more surprised to find her tongue probing my lips and her hands on my chest pushing me into my room. As the door closed, I heard it lock behind us and then Michelle was pushing me onto my bed.

We kissed and held each other for a bit before she finally laced her fingers together, placed her hands and arms on my chest, and then put her chin atop them so we could look at each other.

"So, Grant Norwell, if we're going to be dating, you need to tell me more about yourself, and you'll probably want to know more about me, too, right? After all, we don't want to waste a lot of each other's time if there's already a big red flag that would disqualify the other one as a lover someday."

"Someday?" I said, looking a little confused and equally amused at her comments. "So you're saying that establishing a common ground and the foundation for love is more important than the physical act itself?" My human psychology professor, I felt, might have been proud of me at that particular moment.

She tilted her head a bit, looking at me as if as confused as I was. "Of course, don't you think so?"

"Yes, of course," I replied, before adding with a smile, "Well, most of the time."

She glared at me. "Okay, that's minus one point for you."

I must have looked disappointed because she grinned before scooting up to kiss me and then lying down next to me with her arm around me and her head against my chest. "Or maybe not."

We talked and got to know each other at least a little that evening, making it a fun and mostly stress-free Valentine's Day without sex, inappropriate touching, or significant embarrassment. We enjoyed spending time together as we worked on establishing the groundwork for a potential relationship until she finally had to kiss me goodnight and go so we could each resume our studies.

Our first real date was the following weekend.

***

Chapter 7--Sunday, February 14, 2010--Almost two years into the working world

We'd been dating for about two months (and giving our mattresses and bedsheets a real workout for a good part of that time) when Michelle received an offer for her starting "dream job" in Dallas, Texas. The next week, I received an offer for mine in Nashville, Tennessee.

Over the last few weeks of the semester, we tried to come up with a solution on how we could be together, but since neither of us wanted to give up our newly won positions and since Michelle had physical needs and wasn't into a long distance relationship, we broke up shortly after graduation.

I was young and free and not tied down with either an actual girl or a crush on one to tint my views, so I took it easy, going on an occasional date, getting lucky from time to time, but never getting too close to anyone. When Valentine's Day 2009 rolled around, I didn't have a date and I smiled that I was giving the Day the shaft for a change rather than the other way around.

***

Two things of note happened in December of that year.

First, my boss asked me to represent our firm at a black tie fundraising event, so I bought a tux and attended. I was bored stiff, meeting person after person as I worked my way around the room, rarely remembering the name of the previous person I'd talked to after meeting the next. Then, across the room, I saw her, the most beautiful woman ever.

Nashville is known as the Athens of the South, with its full-scale replica of the Parthenon, its giant statue of Athena, and its diverse cultural offerings, but I was thinking of something Trojan rather than Greek. This woman was like Helen of Troy, whose great beauty was said to have launched a thousand ships and a ten-year war. While there are no pictures of Helen, I suspected that she would have been a rank amateur compared to the goddess I was watching.

She caught my eye, gave me a little smile, and less than ten minutes later, I met Miss Janie Edwards, the most beautiful woman in the world.

Miss Edwards was a 'proper' southern girl whose very affluent parents still lived in Belle Meade, a tiny, very upscale city within the city of Nashville. She was sweet, gorgeous, and well off, and she had a great sense of humor when she wasn't pretending to be prim and proper. I told her my background, admitting that I was representing my firm and that my personal donation for the event had only been $50, but that didn't phase her and she seemed to like me for me. However, her social calendar was full through the new year, but she readily gave me her number and agreed to a date in early January.

Things were looking up and I was excited at the prospect of spending time with her.

The second event just brought a smile to my face. While home seeing my mom over Christmas 2009, she said she'd recently heard from Alex's parents, who were still living in Arizona. She told me Alex had recently accepted a new job in Brentwood, Tennessee, just south of Nashville. Mom gave me Alex's number and I called while on the drive home.

"Alex! Hey, it's Grant Norwell."

"Grant! Hi!"

"How are you? Just left my mom's house and she told me you're going to be working in Brentwood soon. Guess what! I'm working downtown."

"That's funny. I just spoke with my parents earlier this afternoon and they told me about you being close. Or will be, anyway. I'm still in Houston at the moment, but will be moving to start a new job up there on February 8th."

"Need any help moving in?"

"Nah, my new firm's paying for movers. We'll be good."

"Okay, then how about if we get together for a commemorative "I hate Valentine's Day" dinner after you get here? Where are you going to be living anyway? Found a place yet?"

"Sounds great. And yeah, I found an apartment in the Cool Springs Galleria area, south of Brentwood."

"Oh, traffic can be a bear in that area, but lots of nice places to go and plenty to do if you don't mind driving a bit for some of it. Tell you what, I'll pick a good place nearby where we can meet and send you the details, okay?"

"I'll look for it. And it's great to hear from you, Grant."

With enough lead time, I was able to get reservations and sent Alex a text.

Alex: See you there!

***

Miss Janie Edwards and I were a hit on our first date, and the second was even better.

"Grant, my social calendar is pretty full with events that have been scheduled for a while, but I'm working on clearing things so we can spend more time together."

"That's good, Janie. I'm really enjoying spending time with you."

I actually liked her a lot, but prim and proper can get tiring, so I wasn't sure where, if anywhere, our relationship was going. Still, I wanted to find out so we set up our third date on the weekend before Valentine's Day.

When I took her home after our third date, she invited me inside and I learned that she was as hot in bed as she was in person. Prim and proper disappeared as soon as we were behind closed doors, and she showed she was quite voracious in her desires while equally skilled in giving.

After a very fulfilling session, we lay in bed, remarkably sated, holding each other.

"Janie, I should go so you can get some rest."

"Grant, stay," she whispered. "I don't want you to go. Just hold me, okay?"

I smiled and nodded, happy to spend the night with her, even when she demonstrated, just a little later, that she wasn't quite as sated as I'd thought. Exhausted, I was definitely smiling, looking forward to moving forward with our relationship when sleep finally overcame me.

***

I was getting dressed the next morning when Janie asked about "our" Valentine's Day plans.

"Janie, my friend Alex from high school just moved to town so we're getting together for our first 'I hate Valentine's Day' get-together in several years. We even had t-shirts...."

I could tell she was hurt, so I suggested dinner on Saturday night instead.

"Grant, my mom's birthday, remember? I already told you about that."

Yes, she'd told me and told me she wasn't ready to introduce me to her parents yet since they would read too much into our fledgling relationship. The way she talked about them, I suspected that since they were loaded and I wasn't, Janie wanted to be really sure about where our relationship was going before having to fight that battle with them.

"I can't believe you're getting together with a high school friend on the most special evening of the year instead of going out with me. Hmmm. I thought we might have something, Grant."

"We do, Janie, but it's just Valentine's Day; it's not like it's a big deal. Besides, Alex and I set this up before the two of us even went on our first date. If Saturday's out, how about Monday night?"

She rolled her eyes. "Saint Valentine's Day isn't a big deal? Grant! What are you thinking? And you want to substitute a run-of-the-mill February 15 for it? Grant, I think you should consider this very carefully before you decide. Give me a call when you do."

I was surprised at her attitude, and I suspected from her tone that if I didn't decide as she wished, I shouldn't bother with the call, whether she meant it that way or not. Mumbling a goodbye, I left without a kiss, thinking how much I liked her and wondering if I'd just shot down the best chance I'd had at a real relationship since Michelle, while wondering at the same time if it was a relationship in which I'd really want to be?

Could 'prim and proper' actually be a cover for selfish and spoiled? And was she as beautiful on the inside as on the outside or was I allowing myself to be blinded to her flaws?

Yes, there was a lot to consider and as Valentine's Day neared, I dreaded its arrival more each day.

***

In the end, I decided to let Miss Janie Edwards stew a little.

Since Alex and I were meeting early, I'd call Janie later Sunday night after we'd had dinner. I'd take her some roses and a bottle of wine, and we'd talk and work out our differences or I'd walk away. Once Janie understood my thoughts on Valentine's Day, maybe she'd let it drop. And, just maybe, it would teach her a lesson and show her that I could be reasoned with but not be bullied. Assuming she came around, it would be good for our relationship and there might even be some great makeup sex afterward.

If none of that panned out, then it was better to see true colors now rather than months or years down the road.

I was still wondering if I was doing the right thing when I pulled into the parking lot of one of the best restaurants in the Cool Springs area on Valentine's Day 2010. To make matters worse, I'd misjudged traffic and was arriving a few minutes late for our reservation.

There was a text on my phone that I saw as I was walking in. Alex had already arrived and gotten our table. Inside, the hostess nodded when I gave my name.

"Of course, Mr. Norwell. Right this way."

I followed along, excited to see my friend but still concerned if I was doing the right thing with Janie....

"Here you go, sir," said the hostess, waving to a booth as she stopped.

There sat Alex, looking at me with a smile. I was completely stunned.

Gone was the short, black-dyed hair of high school. Gone were the shapeless, moody clothes. Now, Alex, my friend since first grade—Alexandra, I reminded myself, though she'd always hated the name—was no longer a tomboyish high school rebel, but a 24-year old woman who'd completely transformed herself.

"Alex...hi...you look..." I stammered.

Wearing a pretty red nice dress with her natural sandy-blonde hair grown out, reminding me of her braided days before puberty, she stepped out of the booth and did a little turn, watching me all the while as she grinned.

"Do you like?" she asked.

"Alex, you look...absolutely stunning," I finally forced out. "You look...different. Wonderfully different."

She smiled. "Thanks, Grant. You'd don't look so bad yourself."

She stepped forward and we hugged, the first I could recall in all our years. Holding her, I caught the scent of her hair and breathed deep.

"Alex, you've changed so much. What happened?" I asked. She was actually wearing makeup. Her skin, always so acne-prone in high school, now looked clear, though I could still see a tiny scar on her jaw from a skateboard accident when she was nine or ten.

"When we moved and I went off to college, my therapist and I decided I needed to transform. She'd been trying to get me to do it for years, but I'd resisted until I was ready and felt like it was a time when I might succeed. No one would know me there, so I changed my wardrobe, went to a dermatologist for this—"

She brushed her cheek with her fingers.

"—and I made a real mess with my hair, trying to get rid of the black dye I'd had for so long. I ended up cutting it off short and getting a wig until it grew back out." She chuckled at the memory. "The main thing, though, was that I started doing the things the therapist had been trying to get me to do for years—yes, I'd actually been listening all that time, but hadn't been interested in doing, and Alex became Alexandra in college."