Copyright Oggbashan January 2005
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.
* * * * *
This morning, Valentine's Day, my post was the usual bills and advertising rubbish except for one large envelope addressed in a hand I didn't recognise.
I took the post through to the kitchen, sorted out the rubbish, paid the bills and put them aside to post. I stood in the kitchen holding the large envelope. It was Valentine's Day. If it were a card, who would send me one? My ex-wife certainly wouldn't. She seemed happy enough with her new husband. The animosity at the time of our divorce had faded. We had become friends again; friends with many shared memories of a marriage between people who should never have been more than friends.
I made myself some coffee and sat at the kitchen table looking at the envelope. I felt that it was important and that once I opened it there would be consequences. I had to mentally shake myself before I slit the envelope carefully.
Inside there was a Valentine Card folded around a smaller sealed white envelope. It was a fairly plain one with the message 'Be My Valentine'. Inside the card was blank except for the hand-written words 'Remember the enclosed?' The handwriting was still unfamiliar.
I opened the smaller envelope and drew out the contents. It was a faded Valentine card. I recognised it at once. I didn't need to open it to see the poem I had written ten years ago. I had sent it to Mary. It had been the first and last time I had sent anything to her. Even when I sent it I had known that it was too late.
My memory went back to ten years and two weeks ago. I had asked Mary if I could take her to the Valentine Dance. Her reply was still engraved on my heart.
"I'm sorry, John. Someone else asked me and I accepted."
She had hugged me and kissed me on the cheek.
"Thank you for asking."
Another peck on the cheek and she was gone. I was heartbroken. For weeks I had been working myself up to asking her. Now I was too late. I still sent her the card I had prepared knowing it was useless.
I asked Hazel to the dance. Mary was the inseparable partner of Graeme. I wasn't surprised when they announced their engagement. Hazel and I congratulated them. Mary kissed my cheek for the third and penultimate time. She said to Hazel:
"Look after John. He is a good man."
Hazel did. Eventually I was an usher at Graeme and Mary's wedding. Hazel was a bridesmaid. Mary kissed me for the fourth and final time at the wedding reception. By then I knew that Mary and Graeme had been an item for about six months before that dance. I just hadn't known because Graeme was away so much with the Territorial Army.
The four of us were friends. Mary and I treated each other politely but with reserve. She and I knew that I needed just a little spark to ignite what I felt for her. We both avoided any situation that could provide that spark. Mary loved Graeme and I was jealous of him and happy for her. Their marriage was obviously idyllic except that they wanted children that wouldn't come. After seven years of marriage they started having fertility treatment.
Hazel and I had married. The first two or three years were acceptable. The next four were a gradual decline in our relationship. We just didn't fit together. Hazel was and is a party girl. I'm more prosaic and home loving. The eighth year Hazel lost her sense of proportion. She seduced any available man just to show that she could. Eventually I had had enough and started divorce proceedings.
