This is my entry for the 2008 Valentine's Day Story Contest, the winner of which is solely decided by the votes of the readers. So please, enjoy this entry and then, please, take the time to vote and leave a comment on what you thought.
Thank you, in advance, for taking the time to vote and thank you to OneLustyWench for her editing input.
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It was the end of another long day at work as Roger wearily climbed into the car and turned the key. The engine fired right up, the defroster threw a blast of air onto the windshield that bounced off and into his face and the radio began to squawk.
"Another Valentine's Day, as lovers everywhere give it their best efforts to impress that special someone in their life," the DJ said. "Fancy dinners, big bouquets of roses, beautiful jewelry and, of course, that pretty card filled with romantic sentiments you could never write on your own. So my question to listeners out there is what have you done for your special person?"
As the words sunk in, Roger's head dropped -- his chin hitting his chest as his eyes squeezed shut.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he said. "It's six o'clock on Valentine's Day and I haven't done a fucking thing. Diane is going to kill me."
So his mind began to work through the list he had just heard. Fancy dinners -- he could do that. So Roger went back inside and took the elevator up to his office. Flipping open his rolodex he started calling restaurants.
"Sorry sir, but we are booked solid for the evening," the voices all seemed to tell him. "This IS Valentine's Day sir. We've been booked for well over a week."
After almost a dozen calls telling him the same thing, Roger hung up the phone and just screamed. He was sure people were probably looking at him strangely after that -- and they probably would have been if there was anyone left in the office.
This had always been Roger's weak spot. He was great at dealing with the big picture, charting out the major plans. The skill had made him a lot of money in the business world, as he had a knack for seeing how things would come together and land multi-million dollar deals based on things no one else seemed to be able to see.
But it was the details that always seemed to kill him. He always seemed to forget birthdays and anniversaries. He did his Christmas shopping every year on Christmas Eve afternoon. He even knew which specialty stores stayed open late, as he had often had to stop and pick up things like a nice bottle of wine or some kind of housewarming gift on his way to a party at around eight or nine at night after Diane had elbowed him in the ribs for forgetting again.
Here he was again. No gift, no plans and not even a card. This time though, it looked like he was fucked ... and he knew it. More importantly, he knew that if he didn't figure something out, and do it quickly, it was going to be a very, very long time before he actually did get fucked again.
Back to the rolodex, this time trying florists. Roses and a card might be enough to save his ass -- at least that was what he was hoping.
Unfortunately, he fared no better than he had with restaurants. By this time, most florists were already closed for the day and the few that were left were not only out of roses, but almost every kind of flower he could remember that she liked.
"Fuck!" he screamed into the darkness, literally pounding his fists down on to his desk. "Why can't anything fucking work out?"
Making matters worse, as he pounded his fists down that final time he got a glance of the clock. It was already a quarter after seven. He should have been home over an hour ago, had at least a 30 minute drive to get home and he was still empty handed.
For some reason, Roger decided to turn the radio back on. They were talking about what people were doing to celebrate Valentine's Day and maybe they could give him an idea. If they didn't, he was figuring he might as well just start making plans to sleep on the couch in the corner of the office and start waiting for the divorce papers to be delivered.
The first calls were people just getting ready to head out to their dinner reservations -- one caller saying he had made his reservations over a month earlier. That just seemed to rub salt into Rogers wounds.
Feeling defeated, he figured he at least needed to give Diane a call and let her know he was still at the office. He didn't need her worried. Besides, worry would be just one more flaming branch on the fiery fury he was expecting his empty-handed arrival would bring.
Diane answered the phone after just one ring. Great, she's sitting there waiting for me. Now I'm in big trouble.
"Hi sweetheart," Roger said, trying to put his best face forward. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm just finishing up at the office. I'm sorry I didn't call sooner, but I was busy and just realized what time it was and wanted to let you know I was OK."
"Don't worry about it dear," Diane told him. Then she almost started to laugh as she continued, "Honestly, I was just figuring you were going crazy trying to figure out a last minute Valentine's Day present for me. I mean, usually you forget these kinds of things."
"Nope," he said. "I've got your present right here and you are going to be surprised."
In the back of his mind, Roger was telling himself, "I'm going to be pretty surprised too."
"Well, hurry home," Diane said. "Dinner is just about ready and I want you to be able to open the gift I have for you too.
"Love you dear and see you soon."
With that, the phone clicked dead.
Roger's heart sunk. Now he had to come up with something and he had to do it fast.