HEARTS AND ROSES

"Aren't they beautiful?" My co-worker, Doris, gestured at a garishly large display of red roses. "Twenty-six. For every year we've been married," she explained proudly.

I stared at the blood-red roses, the white floral paper decorated with what looked like lipsticked hearts, the heart-shaped card tucked discreetly among the stiff blooms. "But Valentine's Day isn't till next week."

"My Doug likes to get an early start."

"How sweet." Or not. This probably wasn't the moment to tell Doris that I hated Valentine's Day. The fact that I've never received so much as a flower petal on that bleak February day has nothing to do with it, of course.

It's the meaning--or lack thereof--behind it. If I'm not careful, I could go on about how V-Day is a blatant marketing ploy dreamed up by florists and card shops. An absolutely useless holiday, if you ask me.

Which no one was.

"Who needs Valentine's Day?" I'd demanded last Valentine's Day after my best friend Sharon and I celebrated our singleness together. "Why make one day to show you love someone? Why not just let it be any day? Every day? That's what love is really about."

"Possibly," Sharon mused, "but you don't have someone to send you flowers any day of the year."

"That's a temporary situation," I retorted. I'd had big hopes for this Valentine's Day. I dated Ed for nine months and we broke up by mutual agreement at New Year's. I think I would've appreciated a thinking-of-you-as-a-friend card, even... that is, if I cared about Valentine's Day, which of course I didn't. "Maybe next year..." I sighed.

Sharon smiled kindly. "Maybe next year you'll get a card?"

"I got a card this year!"

"From your mum. I know. I got one too." She patted my hand. "We're in the same boat, Ella."

That was last year, and I'm still paddling away by myself. It's not that I don't like being single... or so I tell myself. I'm independent, and I like to feel I didn't need anybody to feel whole.

I just don't like getting roses shoved in my face. Someone else's roses, that is.

Three days before the big day Tracy in marketing flashed me a glittery cupid-shaped card. "Isn't it sweet? From my secret admirer." She looked around furtively. "I'm hoping it's Tom."

Tom was the company hunk. He'd been working here two months and every single woman in the place was dying for him to ask her out. So far he'd kept his cards close to his nicely built chest. He was the strong and silent type it seemed, and he hadn't dated anyone as far as I knew. Maybe he already had a girlfriend and was secretly laughing at all the desperate women jostling for his attention. In any case, I hadn't made a direct bid. He was way out of my league.

 Tracy made a face. "I'm afraid it's that guy in accounts, though. The one with glasses. He's been giving me funny looks."

"You mean Joe?" I asked in surprise.

Tracy raised her eyebrows. "You know him?"

"Sort of." We exchanged banter by the coffee machine on what I considered a regular basis. Joe was no Tom when it came to looks, but he was funny and nice.

"He's so quiet," Tracy continued. "I think he's a bit creepy."

"Creepy! Joe?" I shook my head. "He's just shy." I sort of liked the way he ducked his head when he spoke, the little self-deprecating laugh. And he was funny.

"Maybe you've got a thing for him? Too bad this isn't for you!" Tracy waved the glittering cupid card under my nose, and I decided I hated her.

"Joe doesn't seem like the Valentine's card type," I said. "Maybe he's just giving you strange looks because you're telling everyone it's from him."

Tracy flashed me a venomous look, and I smiled sweetly. "Keep hoping it's from Tom, Tracy. Really."

Honestly, Valentine's Day brings out the worst in me.

And the cards came thick and fast as the week went on. Not just cards, revolting ones with glitter and hearts and even perfumed ones, but presents. Roses by the dozen. Three women received engagement rings.

Was it me, or was everyone going crazy ON Valentine's Day this year?

"Any cards, dear?" Doris asked as I headed into my cubicle on the morning of the fourteenth. "Any flowers?" She looked so hopeful on my account, I forced myself to be cheerful.

"Not a sausage." That's when I saw it, a sticky note on my computer screen.

Roses are red, Violets are blue, I hate Valentine's Day and so do you.

I laughed aloud, a sort of snort, and Doris looked across her cubicle at me. "Are you all right, dear?"

"Fine." I ripped the note from my screen. No signature. Of course. I had an anonymous, I-hate-Valentine's Day admirer. Who could it be?        

"Any cards yet?" Joe asked as I went for my coffee break at eleven. I stopped, mug in mid-air, and looked at him.

"Why do you ask?"

He flashed me a quick smile. "Because it's Valentine's Day, and people usually give and receive cards. You've heard of the tradition?"

I gave a little chuckle. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Oh, no." He put on a mock pout. "You're not one of those Valentine's Day hating types are you?"

"I suppose it depends what you mean by the word hating."

"Well...there are always some people who claim they hate Valentine's Day because it's so forced or trivial or expensive or stupid or whatever you want to say, but..." He hesitated, sneaking me a look.

"But what?"

"They're usually only saying that because they don't receive any cards."

I could feel my face going red. "Oh-ho. So now I see why you asked me." And here I was, thinking he'd sent me my sticky Valentine! Or had that just been hoping?

"Actually..." Joe began, but just then Tom came into the coffee room. He glanced at the two of us, and his face flushed a dull red.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to interrupt something..." he mumbled, looking rather cute in an abashed sort of way. And definitely handsome. Out of my league, as always. I threw Joe a dirty look.

"Don't worry, you weren't."

"Ella," Joe called as I left with my lukewarm coffee, "you know I was just teasing, don't you?"

Sure. Right. Story of my life.

Face it, Ella, I told myself as I headed back to my desk, you wouldn't want one of those glittery cards with ridiculous sentiments written on. Would you?

Would you?

No, I wouldn't, I told myself staunchly. Really, I wouldn't.

I glanced at my sticky note. Who sent it? If Joe did, he was doing a good job of covering it up. I liked Joe. Admittedly I'd never thought of him in that way, but still I could probably convince myself to.

Since you're desperate.

That inner voice really needed to be turned off, I decided. I glanced at the note again.

I hate Valentine's Day and so do you. Not exactly a romantic sentiment. Not even affectionate.

Really, what kind of Valentine's Day card was it? No words of affection, no sentiment except a mutual loathing of Cupid's holiday.

I couldn't even really count it as a proper Valentine, if I'd even wanted to.

Which I didn't.

Still, every time I was away from my desk, I found myself looking hopefully at my blank computer screen. Blank, and empty of witty little sticky notes. What had I been expecting, I asked myself crossly. A paper serenade?

"Cute," Sharon said dryly when I told her that night. Every Valentine's Day we got together for drinks at the local. "I think I would have preferred roses."

"He's original."

"He's cheap. Still, at least you got something."

"True. But if it is Joe..."

"What makes you think it's him?"

"It's his style. At least I think it is. And he did ask me if I'd received any cards..."

"A common question this time of year."

"True." I sighed. "It probably didn't mean anything anyway. I'm making it into something big because I don't get any Valentines."

"Do you want it to be Joe?" Sharon asked seriously, and I gazed down into my drink.

"I don't honestly know," I admitted. For some reason, Tom's face, flushed and bashful, came into my head. I hadn't thought him the bashful type. "I suppose," I continued with a sigh, "I just want it to be somebody."

"Well, it is that," Sharon said as she downed her drink. "It is that."

The next morning, as I came into my cubicle, I saw it. Little and yellow and sticky. I ripped it off my computer screen in triumph.

Roses and red, Carnations are pink, I'm glad Valentine's Day is over, Because it stinks.

I smiled a bit, but I also felt a teeny bit disappointed. Weren't Valentine's Day cards supposed to become more romantic as they went on?

Except these weren't Valentine's Day cards. They were sticky notes. I would do well to remember that.

All morning I alternated between gloom and anticipation. Someone was thinking of me, even if it was just to tell me how much we both hated Valentine's Day.

I spent my lunch break by the copying machine, hurrying to finish a last minute project. When, hungry and irritated, I headed back to cubicle, I almost ran straight into Joe. He was holding a sticky note by his fingertips, and there was a guilty look on his face.

"It was you, wasn't it?" I said, and I realised I sounded disappointed.

"I overheard you talking to Tracy," Joe admitted with a shamefaced smile. "It didn't seem like you'd received any cards, and since I hate Valentine's Day too..." He crumpled up the note. "This one wasn't as inspired."

"No, they were starting to sound a bit sour," I said.  "It was a laugh, anyway," I added robustly. "Did you get any real cards?"

Joe nodded brightly. "From my girlfriend. She likes Valentine's Day, anyway."

Ah. Right. I was certainly not about to admit how much I'd hoped those little notes might have meant. Or that Joe, funny, sweet Joe, might have been slightly mean-spirited in his poetry, what with his girlfriend giving him the proper Valentine's treatment.

"Oh, sorry!" Tom stood in the doorway of my cubicle, looking mortified. "I just had a quick question, but..."

My heart did a strange little flip flop. Joe looked between us and then took himself off.

"I was just leaving."

Tom and I were left staring at each other. My mouth was dry, my heart beating a bit faster, and I wasn't even sure why. Tom had never stopped by my desk before, but surely he was just going to ask about the copying machine, or an office memo, or...

"Would you like to go out with me?"

It came out so fast I barely understood it. "You mean on a date?"

"Yeah." Tom nodded. "I know I don't know you very well, but I overhear you sometimes and you're, well, funny, and I don't know... I just thought... maybe we could go out?"

Now was not the time to tell him every woman in the office wanted to be in my shoes. Now, however, might be the time to at least think it. And to realise that Tom, gorgeous Tom, was actually shy and sweet and very nice.

"Sure," I said, the smile on my face growing wider by the second, "I'll go out with you." I thought about asking him if he disliked Valentine's Day, but then I remembered that that particular holiday was over.

And with my future looking rather promising, who really cared about Valentine's Day, anyway?

Right now I certainly didn't.

"Maybe you could give me your phone number," Tom suggested hesitantly.

"Sure. Of course." I tossed two sticky notes in the bin as I reached for pen and paper.

THE END

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Copyright © 2008 by Katharine Swartz