As you can imagine, Valentine’s Day was not exactly a day that was celebrated around the world back in the day. I wasn’t exactly exposed to it until we came back to “home base”.
I was 14, and 2 weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day, you could order a rose for your Valentine. The Valentine would then be publicly delivered to your classroom. Oh, and if you didn’t want a flower, you could still send a friend a chocolate with a note, and it would again be delivered to your classroom. Got to love the public displays, cause nothing makes a teenager feel so good than feeling left out. I had no idea what that meant, why the heck would you send a red rose? My Father had taught me early on, that a red rose was just tacky. He liked to believe that flowers should have more feeling, more colour. He often would surprise my Mother with flowers from his garden.
I barely knew anyone in the school, I was attempting to keep to myself, terrified we would be moving again. I finally got up enough courage to ask an acquaintance, what Valentine’s Day was all about.
I still remember the look, it was kind of the look of are you stupid, because you sound stupid. I had gathered that she didn’t go by the rule, there are no stupid questions, just stupid people.
So, I went on my way, and didn’t think anything of it. Until the Day.
That Day, classes were being interrupted so frequently, it was useless to even think we could concentrate on our work.
Flowers and chocolate were mounting on some people’s desks like red graves. The girls who had boyfriends were getting dozens of roses. I sat there, almost laughing at the insanity of it all.
Until, a vase came to my desk with a dozen roses. Huh?
The girl beside me gasped in a little shock, I didn’t have a boyfriend. I sat there staring at it, not knowing what to do. I asked if they had made a mistake. They said no.
I looked for the card.
All it said was Happy Valentine’s Day. Geez, my Father was going to have a bird when he sees cheap red roses come into his house. I on the other hand, hated having people stare, and I turned the same colour as my flowers.
The bell rang, I had to run to my next class, but I had no idea what to do with the vase. So I took it to my locker, and attempted to cram it in without hurting the flowers. It didn’t work, so I had to carry it to the next class.
People were staring. I didn’t like that.
I sat in the next class. Crimson. I then had to bring that vase everywhere that day. Like a bull’s-eye.
When the day finally finished, I ran back to my locker, and found a note, a boy liked me, he just didn’t want the whole school to know the flowers were from him.
I was stunned.
I did not know what to do with that information.