Maria and I were hanging around the kitchen table one Saturday morning a few weeks ago, BSing. I was drinking coffee. Somehow the conversation turned to Valentine's Day.
"Valentine's Day was devised by entrepreneurial artists and illustrators - and I guess you could add florists who wanted to shake the moneymaker," I told Maria.
"No, it was invented for St. Valentine," Maria said.
The Catholic legend is St. Valentine was a priest who secretly officiated weddings for soldiers forbidden to marry. So Roman Emperor Claudius threw him in prison. On the day he was to be executed St. Valentine restored the sight of the emperor's blind daughter and wrote her a farewell note: "From your Valentine." Shortly afterwards, the executioner chopped off his head.
Now the man has immortality through sweet, loving Valentine's Day cards because nothing says love like a beheading.
"Yeah but the businesses capitalized on it and made it grow big out of the Catholic Church," I said.
"It's funny," she said. "Valentine's Day and St. Patrick's Day are the only mainstream holidays named for saints. Wonder why that is."
"Think about it," I said. "One's about sex. The other's about booze. Everyone falls in love. Everyone likes to party. Of course they're gonna break through. People can make a lot of money off that shit."
Zig-zagging zebra stripes
This morning I was messing around, starting to write this damn thing and drinking coffee so I could wake up, slip out of the house and slip back in without Maria knowing. Instead she woke up, went to the bathroom, peed, came out and said, "Why don't you spend some time with me?"
"I have to leave for a few minutes," I said. "I'll be back."
"What'd'ya gotta do?" I knew she'd ask that.
"I'm gonna meet my uncle Ted for coffee," I said, making shit up.
"Where are you meeting?" She always has to go probing. Always suspicious.
I thought for a moment. "At the Bake Shop."
Somehow in the conversation we wound up lying on the bed, just talking crap.
Later in the morning, she handed me a card with zig-zagging zebra stripes and a red heart in the middle. She wrote something in it about how I'm her "partner in crime" and "best friend." Naturally, I returned her affections, showing gratitude in my own emotive way.
We threw Max's paper route for him since he and Gabby had spent the night at Grandma's house. Then we went to Dairy Queen, and shortly after we sat at the booth, she gave me some look as if she's my mother or something and silently mouthed "stop it" after I said the word, "scrotum." But, hell it was barely audible.During the course of our meal, I said the cheese was good, but the burger was average. My friend Noah and I were texting back and forth.
"Who are you texting?" Maria asked.
"Just a woman I know real well from work. You don't know her. We're close friends."
"Cut the shit. You're probably texting Noah and bragging about how you boned me this morning."
I briefly cut to Facebook. Christina, an old friend from high school, posted this lovely card her husband had given her. "It's your inner beauty I love. All the rest is icing," he wrote. (The guy isn't on Facebook so he won't be embarrassed.)
Suddenly I felt ashamed.
"This morning I was trying to sneak out and buy you a card before you woke up," I said.
That would've been enough for Maria. Mostly, she's not into flowers. Although it happens on the rare occasion.
"There's a Dollar Tree near where you work. You could've got one there," she said. "I got yours in the dollar bin at Target."
"Really? Max and I were sifting through there just last weekend. I was looking for a notebook. Didn't see any cards."
"They were probably sold out. I got yours about three weeks ago."
She talked about Dollar Tree again, said it was just as well I didn't make it to Wal-Mart, Cooper's Drug or Kober Brothers Grocery this morning.
"I wouldn't want you to spend a lot of money on a card anyway."
