Once outside, the cold winter air feels refreshing compared to the warm and crowded bar. The short walk back is mostly in silence, and I’m thankful. I’ve never been much for small talk, and Ben seems to be the same.
Once we get to our apartment, he takes out his keys and lets us in. He lets me use the bathroom first to get ready for bed. As I leave the bathroom, I stop short again, as Ben is right outside the door.
His cologne smells delicious.
“Oh, um, I’m done…” I look up at him. He’s staring at me intensely, his pupils dilated as he peers down at me. His hand moves up as if to brush the hair out of my face before he lets itdrop back down to his side in realization of what he was about to do.
He backs up a step so I can move past him, and I scurry into my room. I shut the door quietly behind me and lean up against the door with my heart hammering in my chest.
What just happened?
14
emily
Valentine’s Day has never been that important to me. Of course, when you’re in a long-term relationship, it’s considered an important holiday. Everyone my age is engaged or married, with one-and-a-half kids on the way. Yet, here I am, almost thirty years old and back on the market. When you’re single at my age, Valentine’s Day is like a mark of shame on your character. The red glowing scarlet letter that signifies your single status.
Even when Logan and I were together, he always seemed to forget that most boyfriends mark the holiday by showering their ladies with gifts or signs of affection. I always told myself that I didn’t need any presents or flowers to know that he cared about me, though I always felt a pang of disappointment every time he forgot. I comforted myself by knowing that he loved me and that we were end-game, so what does it matter in the long run?
The dreaded Hallmark holiday is fast approaching. Thankfully, I have a long shift at the hospital scheduled. My classroom training is almost over, and now we’re at the clinical portion of the program where I shadow my mentor as they go about their workday.
It is much more invigorating to be back on the hospital floor than it has been sitting in a classroom for the past few weeks. I’m excited about moving on to the next part of my training.
I’ve always known that I wanted to be a nurse. My grandmother, who was a Vietnamese refugee and my idol, had type 2 diabetes and would often need help to take care of giving her insulin doses. Not only would she ask me to help her, but she also had me helping with cupping, an Eastern medicine therapy involving the use of special cups to create suction on a person’s body that was believed to help draw out the toxins in the body.
I’ve always felt honored that she picked me out of all of my cousins to help her. Granted, my cousins and even my siblings were wild and rambunctious. They probably wouldn’t be very calming to be around during a cupping session.
I always thought that I would end up working in the neonatal ICU. Instead, my new job is in a Level 1 surgical trauma ICU. I found that after shadowing a NICU nurse, I couldn’t handle the stress of holding somebody’s child’s life in my hands. It’s funny where life leads us sometimes.
It’s almost time for a lunch break when I hear my name being paged overhead. I find my manager, who informs me that security has called for me to come downstairs to the lobby. I do not know what it’s about, but head out of the secured unit and down the bank of elevators to the lobby.
I walk up to security and tell them I was called down here by my manager. The security guard looks at my work badge to verify my name and tells me he’ll be right back. He disappears into the office and comes out carrying a giant vase of red roses with a stuffed puppy attached to the bottom. I step aside, thinking he is handing it to someone else when he stops in front of me. He places the vase down and hands me a clipboard and a pen.
“Sign here that you got your delivery, please.”
I look up at him, confused, but do as he says. I hand over the clipboard, and he puts it away and hands me the vase. Did Logan send me flowers? This seems so unlike him. I hadn’t really heard from him since he found out I was living with Ben.
I’m walking away with a giant vase in my hands and don’t stop to look at the attached card until I’m back on my unit. My stomach is in knots. I’m setting it on the table in our shared break room when my best friend, Maggie, walks in. She sees the flowers and gasps excitedly.
“Did someone send you flowers on Valentine’s Day?” she all but shrieks.
“Um…yeah, I guess so.”
“Who are they from? Do you have a secret admirer?” Her excitement is palpable. She frowns. “Are they from Logan?”
I finally pull out the small card that’s sticking out of the bouquet. My confusion must be obvious because someone suddenly yanks the card away. I look up to find Maggie reading the card, and she looks up at me.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, roomie ;)” is what the card reads. I’m in shock as I try to make sense of the fact that Ben took the time to send me flowers on Valentine’s Day when my ex-boyfriend never once took the time to even acknowledge the holiday.
“Oh my god. Are you guys hooking up?” Her eyes widen in surprise.
“What? No, of course not!”
“Then why is he sending you flowers on Valentine’s Day if you’re not hooking up?” she asks, which is a valid question.
“I don’t know. We’ve never even talked about today before.”
“Well, if you’re not hooking up, you should.” She winks at me as she bends down to smell the roses.
