Of Roses and Chocolates

One. Two. Three. Times my phone fucking rings in the past five minutes.

Hello?

Happy unimaginative, consumerist-oriented and entirely arbitrary, manipulative and shallow interpretation of romance day.

Gee, thanks. How long did it take you to memorize that?

Aren't you chipper this morning. And, I didn't. I read it off the internet.

Way to make a girl feel special. And, it's 5am, I don't have to be chipper.

I'm sorry I can't be there.

It's fine. I get it. Work, and stuff.

You're hurting.

I'm not.

When I come home, we can make our own Valentine's Day. My parents used to do the same thing with Christmas and Thanksgiving. They used to tell me that it didn't matter when, as long as we were together.

You're such a sap.

I love you.

...I love you, too, but I still hate Valentines.

I wouldn't expect any less from you.

-

When he got home, we did as he promised. He stepped through the door clutching a dozen of blood red roses, and a box of chocolates.

As I bit into the first one, I realized the saying about life and chocolates and never knowing what you were gonna get was true. I picked out the ring from the gooy center and looked up at the only person I cared to see.

"Marry me, Marie Marcia."

"You know I hate the whole 'M' situation with my name, Alexander Gideon. How would you feel if I said 'That was a horrible attempt of alliteration, Alec.'"

There was a beat of tempting silence, only broken by a snicker on behalf of his cocked eyebrow.

"All I'm saying is we should work out our kinks if we're getting married."

A broad smile broke out on his face, and he wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed his lips to mine.

Every February 22nd we spent a late Anti-Valentines, simply for traditions sake. Alec had come up with the Anti portion after understanding that my, admittedly, feigned hatred for the 'holiday' would never diminish.

Alec would usually decorate the house in rose petals and wake me up with little goodies hidden in chocolate. He continued this tradition, regardless of the many times I told him that I was going to one day choke and die with something in chocolate or slip on a rose petals and break my back.

We stayed happy and in love throughout the birth of our first and second child.

It was four years after that first February 22nd, I had sat them both down and had the hardest talk of my life.

"Daddy's not coming home this time," and as the sentence left my mouth and I saw the shattered and confused looks grace their faces, I wished nothing more than to swallow those words again. They tasted fowl and wrong on my tongue, and tears were never beautiful when shed in front of those you must be strong around.

-

I would love to adopt a child one day.

What?

Doesn't the idea of taking a poor kid in a bad situation and giving them a home sound beautiful to you?

Do you want to do it now?

You're in college, and I'm never home. But I like the enthusiasm.

Don't laugh at me! As soon as we get the chance, then.

Agreed.

-

"Lilly, Morella," I said suddenly in a car trip once. I had turned my head back for a second, to see Lilly fiddling with Morella's car seat. "Stop messing with your sister, Lilly. Look, I don't know if you're going to understand this or not, but you're going to have a little brother. We're going to name him Alexander Gideon-Marcia."

The instant brightness of their- Well, Lilly's, seeing as she was the only other person in this car who understood English, but Morella looked happy enough- faces was enough to make my day, and help me realize I made the right choice.

Morella and Alexander- I had begun using the nickname Alec- were practically twins, seeing as Morella was only a month older. They acted like it too, them being inseparable. Lilliana loved the idea of Alexander as much as I did, and continued blossoming into the beautiful big sister she was. Alexander had adjusted well, and was instantly recognized as family.

It was one day, when Lilliana was 12 and Alec and Morella were 8, I had coated the house in rose petals and woke up each child with a box of chocolates before breakfast.

Lilliana had looked confused. She cocked an eyebrow, looking painfully like Alexander the day he asked me to marry him, "Mommy," she said slowly, "Valentines was, like, a week ago."

"This was when your dad and I used to do Valentines days," I explained, "We used to call it Anti-Valentines, because I had hated it. Your dad had loved it, though. He would always bring roses and chocolates, and try to get me to smile. He asked me to marry him the first time we celebrated it then, too."

It was also the day Daddy died, one awful year, but I left that part unsaid.

-

When I come home, we can make our own Valentine's Day. My parents used to do the same thing with Christmas and Thanksgiving. They used to tell me that it didn't matter when, as long as we were together.

-

"I wanted to spend this Anti-Valentines with you guys this year, instead of ignoring it."

Lilliana smiled, and accepted the answer and chocolates. "Mom," she said, her voice hoarse, "Can you tell me more about dad?"

"One day," I said. "I promise."

-

Baby, are you okay? You sound like you've been crying. What's wrong?

I'm sorry for calling so late. I just... I had a dream that you didn't come home one day. I-I can't live without you.

I'll always come home. I'll always come back to you.

Promise?

I promise.

-