Rained all day and into the night. Rained the next day too and it was Valentine's Day, and Neely stood at the bus stop watching the raindrops bead on her patent leather boots. Her fingers were bare aside from her two twinned rings-- the big diamond in the wedding ring looking as cold as the ice in the street-- and red from the cold. Her nose was red too, and her coat was pulled tight around her. She stared into the window of the gift shop and tried not to think of the cold.
There were red satin hearts and baby cupids and a big, white, cardboard Eros with lace wings: a King Cupid, revolving slowly, sweeping out a circle with his arrow, pointing first at her, then at the hearts, and then back into the store. Neely looked with distaste at the baby cupids. At Christmas Ronnie had declared that he thought they should start thinking about children, and since then he had started bringing her pictures of babies and contented families and even giving her crib toys.
He'd already given her a dozen red roses today and a box of candy, and if he was anything like last year he'd give her more tonight: candles at dinner and more red hearts, and champagne in an ice bucket and the special glasses. Last year he'd made fondue so that their forks could mingle in the thick cheese and whenever her bread fell off her fork he made her kiss him. This year she supposed it would be the same if not worse, and she dreaded it.
Last year too there'd been a red negligee in a box lined with pink tissue too, and he'd showered and waited for her on a bed made up fresh with red satin sheets. This year it would be worse, and more biological. He might make her get up on her knees afterwards, so the semen could drip the right way. She didn't know if she could take that.
Neely sniffed and looked up the street and here was the bus, splashing through the sleet and pulling clumsily up to the curb with a squeal of wet brakes, the windows steamed from the human warmth inside. She folded her umbrella and squeezed in, falling against a thickset man as the bus lurched forward. He turned and glowered at her for an instant before he saw that she was just a woman and a small one at that, and his lips curled into a polite and indulgent smile and he nodded.
That angry face, though: that one instant of darkness in his eyes made her think of someone else. She'd been thinking about Ronnie, but the man's dark look brought her old lover to mind, and she realized as she did every day that she wasn't over him even now. She forced herself to look out the window at the shops, all decorated in reds and pinks, and tried to make her mind a blank.
When her bus reached her stop downtown she exited through the rear door, hopped over a puddle and hurried into a shop near the office, but once again this years she'd waited too long and all the good valentines were sold, or at least the appropriate ones. The sentiments in the cards that were left made her feel slightly grimy, as if she were reading someone else's mail; the gushy, anonymous prose written with a pen sweeping across the page in transports of controlled joy: insert beloved's name here. Nothing said what she wanted, but then she really didn't know what she wanted to say.
She didn't have much time, and so she selected the most expensive blank card she could find, a great huge monstrosity of lace and foil with some sort of plastic pressed flower behind a cellophane window. She grabbed a pair of black silk boxer shorts with red hearts that were cutely packaged in a clear plastic tube and took them and the card to the cashier. The shorts were on sale, this being Valentine's Day, and Ronnie loved naughty little gifts like that. She'd think of something to write in the card later. For now she put the shorts in her bag and stuffed the card into the huge pocket of her raincoat and headed for the office.
There were more flowers for when she got to her cube, and candy too, and the other girls teased her, but it all made Neely feel slightly ill. The scent of the flowers was almost more than she could bear, especially when it was mixed with the overpowering perfume that Sheila Cappitano invariably wore, and by nine-thirty Neely had a dull, ugly headache and the thick scent on her empty stomach made her feel queasy.
Ronnie called her for the first time as she was taking a couple of Advil and washing it down with mineral water.
"Happy Valentine's Day, darling!"
"Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Ronnie. But you really shouldn't have. You know it embarrasses me."
He laughed with delight. "It's 'cause I love you, darling, and I want everyone to know. Did you like the flowers? They get there okay?"
"Yes, they're lovely."
Ronnie was a lawyer and worked at his father's firm where he did very well. They had plenty of money and he loved to spend it on her, so Neely really didn't have to work. She just dreaded staying home in the huge house, which was much too big for two people. They had three empty bedrooms just waiting to be filled: four if you counted Ronnie's home office, which he never used.
"What time will you be home, then?" he asked. "I want to get everything ready."
"The usual I suppose."
Sheila was coming towards her cube, so Neely turned away and cupped her hand over the phone.
"Ronnie," she whispered, "Don't go overboard, okay? It's all lovely and I appreciate it, but let's keep things simple tonight? No strawberries and champagne?"
He laughed, a kind of throaty, self-satisfied sound. He prided himself on what a good husband he was and he loved spoiling her.
"Would I do that?" he asked slyly. "Just wait till you see. I'll be home before you, darling. You're going to be amazed."
Sheila walked into her cube, preceded by a cumulus cloud of intense musk and tea rose, and hovered over the open heart-shaped box of Godiva chocolates, her fingers fluttering like bees. Neely covered the phone with her hand and nodded towards the box and said, "Go ahead. They're too sweet for me," and Sheila plucked up a goody with a naughty little wag of her eyebrows and popped it into her mouth as she walked away.
"Okay Ronnie. I've got to go. I've got a meeting and I think they're waiting for me."
The scent of tea roses was so thick she could taste it in the back of her throat.
"Okay, Darling. I'll give you a call at lunch."
"I might be going out."
"Well then, after lunch, then. Now tell me, who loves you?"
"You do, Darling."
"Damned right I do. Ciao!"
Coffee helped. Coffee black and hot, without her usual sweetener. The bitterness felt good in her mouth, the heat scalded the perfume from the back of her throat. She'd lied about anyone waiting for her, but she did have some things to go over with accounting, and it was good to sit in the small conference room with the sleet streaming down the window and go over columns of numbers. Neely was a small woman and compact, with delicate features that made her look especially young and frail. It pleased her when people saw how organized and methodical she was, and how firm she could be when she knew she was in the right.
The woman from accounting was flustered. She wore a large valentine heart on her jacket festooned with some little white flowers: lilies-of-the-valley, Neely guessed. She wasn't very good with flowers. Still, she enjoyed catching and correcting a few of accounting's errors. That put her in a better mood. She almost took the elevator back up to her floor, but instead she felt the tug of the third floor mailroom, and she gave in.
The mailroom was nothing special. It was where the shipping and packaging went on, and it was enclosed in a strong steel mesh. That's what drew her: the steel mesh, the iron bars, and the harsh overhead lights. It looked like a prison, and it always gave her a little thrill. It always reminded her of him, and she couldn't help it, it still excited her.
When she got to her desk her mail was there, and a huge pinkish red envelope from Ronnie. Sighing, she slit it open. She knew he'd ask her about it when he called at noon.
It was an eight by ten photo, a picture of them on the beach in Michigan when they'd visited friends a few years ago. They'd been squatting on the sand and smiling happily up at the camera, their friend's collie between them, but Ronnie'd had the dog airbrushed out and a baby's body put in its place. The baby had no face though, just a gray smudge with a big black question mark inked in. He'd drawn red hearts around their heads.
Neely dropped the photo as if burned and sat up, rocked by a wave of revulsion. For a long time she didn't move, then she opened up her bottom left hand drawer where she kept her shoes and threw the photo inside. She crumpled up the envelope and threw it in the garbage and sat there, staring at the papers on her desk and bracing herself, as if the photo might start screaming from her drawer.
Here eyes were on the rest of her mail, but it took her a moment to focus and realize what she was looking at. There was another card – a white envelope this time -- and she recognized the broad, quirky handwriting in which it was addressed immediately. Her heart jumped into her throat.
She slid her thumbs under the flap and tore it open.
The card was a picture of a woman's hands cuffed together and holding a rose, and when she opened it up she read, "Happy Valentine's day, Precious. I'm back in town and thought I'd drop you a line – Liam". There was a phone number.
She'd already reached for her phone and punched in the first three numbers before she stopped: no, it would be better to call him from outside the office.
Neely stood up and took her coat. She stuffed the card into her pocket and took her umbrella, then stopped by Sheila's desk.
"Sheila, I'm going to run out for a bite. I'm really not feeling very well though, and I may not be back. I'll see how I feel after I eat. Will you cover for me?"
"Sure, hon. What's wrong?" Sheila regarded her and then smiled slyly. "Nausea? Don't tell me it's nausea!"
Neely made a sour face. "More like stomach flu, I'm afraid. It's going around. Just cover for me, okay?"
It was eleven fifteen, late enough so that her leaving didn't draw any comments, and Neely rode down in the elevator with her hand in her pocket, clutching the card, staring at the floor indicator but seeing nothing. She was only going to call him, she thought. Maybe just say hello and reminisce. Possibly he wasn't even home.
She called him on her cell from the lobby, hiding in a corner and facing the wall so that no one would see, and at the first sound of his voice she knew she was lost.
"Hello?" he said.
It was like standing in a rain shower after a long a dusty drought.
"Liam?"
She could hear him smiling on the other end. She could see his mouth drifting into that wicked grin.
"Hello, baby," he said slowly. "How are you? Get my card?"
"Yes I did. Just now. What are you doing in town? How long are you here for?"
