|02-14-2006, 10:06 PM||#1|
Rock n' Roll Doggie
Join Date: Jan 2005
Location: walking out to the street
Local Time: 03:54 PM
A Story Without Me 22
A Story Without Me 22: B, My Valentine__________________
Note: Another two-for-one chapter day! Consider it my Valentine to you, dear reader.
Disclaimer: This is fiction. B's based on Bono. I don't know Bono. We all know Bono can be a bit ungraceful. Happy Valentine's Day. (Or night, considering how late I finally posted this.)
"This isn't how I imagined the two of us in our bedroom on our first Valentine's night."
"Me neither. At least I have a beautiful woman to wait on me hand and foot. Thank you, love."
"You're welcome, B. Flattery will get you everywhere. Bad puns, however, may not." B's lying in your bed, with an ice pack on his left ankle, and his swollen right foot and ankle propped up on pillows. You've just brought him dinner on a tray, with another plate for yourself. You sit down beside him next to the bed.
You were going to make a candlelight dinner for the two of you tonight. But early this morning, while you were in bed celebrating Valentine's Day, B tangled his foot in the blankets while you were ... in bed ... and he twisted his ankle.
You remember your morning quite well: After you woke up, you kissed B. "Do you know what today is?" you asked him first thing in the morning, while you were lying in bed beside him.
"What is today's date?"
"That's right, B. What does February 14th mean?"
"Let's see ... It's another month until Saint Patrick's Day, so you didn't kiss me just because I'm Irish. And we still have two months to file our federal and state tax returns, right?"
"Oh, B, you're being silly! Today is our first Valentine's Day! B, will you be my Valentine?"
"Of course, love. I'm your husband, so I must be your Valentine. You're my wife, so you must be my Valentine. And I know just how we should celebrate Valentine's Day." He winked at you, then wrapped one of his arms around you to steal a kiss from you.
"Oh! Okay!" you say, then start to giggle, as he hugs and kisses you.
But after about five minutes of 'celebrating,' B twisted his foot in bed. You helped him out of bed and to get dressed enough to go to the car to go to the Emergency Room. Then, he slipped on a patch of ice in your driveway, lost his balance, and sprained his twisted ankle even further.
You then spent the day calling his office to tell them B wouldn't be at work, waiting in the Emergency Room, filling out insurance forms, filling B's pain pill prescription and buying him Valentine's candy and a get well card at the drugstore, filling plastic bags with ice for his ankle, and finding your old crutches for him. And checking on your husband every so often to make sure he's resting comfortably and has plenty of books, snacks, and drinks.
So you haven't had as much time to cook a romantic meal.
Much less figure out what you're going to tell people besides "B hurt his foot and ankle while we were making love on Valentine's Day morning."
Of course, that doesn't mean B -- who can't keep a good, jucy secret to save his life -- won't eventually tell someone the truth.
So while B rested and kept himself entertained, you made a quick, simple -- and ordinary -- dinner. The two of you are now having pasta and salad. With sparkling juice instead of wine, since he's taking pain pills and you're trying to get pregnant again.
"To our first Valentine's Day." B raises his glass. "And to my wonderful wife, who has been such a help to me today."
"Thank you, B. I remember how helpful you were to me when I was pregnant and I needed you," you tell him. "And I will care for you whenever you're sick because you're my husband and my friend and I love you. To our first Valentine's Day. May the rest of our Valentine's Days be better." You clink glasses and drink.
"Now, this Valentine's Day isn't so bad, is it, J? We're having dinner alone together, aren't we?"
"I wanted to make you a romantic meal, with music, and candlelight, and champagne, and a sinfully delicious dessert. Then, a little slow dancing with you in our living room to our favorite slow songs, and then ...."
"And then you had a little more horizontal dancing in mind for us? Right then. Well, normally I'd say yes, but both kinds of dancing are just too awkward and painful for me right now. Sorry."
"Oh, I understand the pain you're in. Several winters ago, I sprained my ankle. In a way many people do, slipping on ice. What a Valentine's Day, huh, honeybee?"
"It'll be a great story to tell our child."
"Yeah. If we ever have one." As soon as you said it, you knew B would be back on his feet -- or at least on crutches -- in the next few days. You didn't see much of him last week, because he was on a business trip. The weekend's East Coast snowstorms delayed his return trip home from Friday night to Monday. You didn't get pregnant again this month -- maybe because he was called out of town? But you won't think about that now.
"Oh, love, you know the doctors told us I'd have to have only a little bed rest. Why, they even gave me little exercises to do while I'm lying here. Sooner or later, we'll be back in business."
"I know, I know. But it's our first Valentine's Day together!" you pout.
"Let me guess. You haven't had many happy Valentine's Days, have you, my love?"
"No. That's another reason why I wanted this day to be special. Have you? Had many happy Valentine's Days?"
"Some of mine have been better than others. I have had my share of lonely Valentine's Days. I once forgot a Valentine's Day. I wrote a poem to the lady I was seeing at the time to apologize. She hated the poem and broke up with me."
"Ouch. Poor you." You kiss B's forehead.
"Maybe that wasn't the best sales pitch for what I'm about to give you?" B hands you a folded piece of paper. "Happy Valentine's Day, J. I wrote you this note while I was lying here today. Sorry about the paper; I tore it out of my notebook. It was either write this, or watch the Winter Olympics or daytime television." He winks at you.
"I know you think most American television is terrible. And American televison networks wouldn't cover Ireland's Winter Olympians very much. Either way, we agreed not to have a television in our bedroom." You smile as you tease your husband. Your meal now paused, you move the dinner tray to the floor, lie next to him on the bed, and unfold the note. There's a hand-drawn heart on the front. "Read it to me," you ask B.
"14 February 2006. My dearest J," B kisses you. "We didn't expect I'd sprain my ankle on our first Valentine's Day. Last Valentine's Day, I didn't expect I'd have you. You've been a wonderful companion and a loving wife, today and every day. I love you very much. God bless you. B."
"That was lovely," you tell him as you kiss him. "Yes, if you'd told me last Valentine's Day that I'd have a summer romance, marry at the end of September, and try to start a family as my New Year's resolution, I would have said 'Yeah, right' and wondered what planet you were from."
"I am from Ireland, m'lady," B tells you in a stereotypical Irish accent. He stretches his arm out, grabs your shoulder, pulls you closer to him, and steals a deep kiss.
"Ireland's not a planet," you say once you regain your breath.
"Who wants to talk about cosmology on Valentine's Day? Kiss me again."
You kiss him again, deeply, then pause to catch your breath. It's late in the day, and the winter light is dim, so B's not wearing his sunglasses in bed. You touch your fingertip against the brown freckles under his right eye, then kiss the freckles. He must have freckled long before he ever started wearing sunglasses. You move your lips lower down his face as your hands stroke his chest.
Suddenly, you feel B's big hands on your hands as he chuckles. He wraps you in his strong arms and pulls you to his side.
"Let's just cuddle together tonight, love. You really wanted to dance with me tonight, didn't you?"
"Yes." Perhaps you have watched a few too many "Dancing with the Stars" competitions while imagining B gracefully leading you in a ballroom dance? But if truth be told, when it comes to dancing, you've also got two left feet.
"I never could dance very well. However, you know I can sing. Take my hand, close your eyes, and imagine we're in each other's arms." B turns his head to your ear and slowly and softly begins to sing: "I could never take a chance, of losing love to find romance, in the mysterious distance, between a man and a woman ..."
B kisses you. "I have a gift for you. Happy Valentine's Day, my love." He hands you a small book. "It's a book of poems and letters and journal entries I've written for and about you since I met you. Some are ones I've already sent to you, some are ones I meant to send to you someday. Some little sketches, too. I hope you like it. And I also bought you some chocolate." B hands you a heart-shaped box of fine chocolates.
"Oh, B! This is romantic! Poetry and prose, by you, about me, about us. Would you please read it to me?"
"This starts with the first time I saw you: 25 April 2005 --"
"What? You saw me in April? But I know we didn't meet until the end of May?"
"Let me finish, J. 'Went to the Bruce Springsteen concert tonight with a date. Excellent concert, terrible date. She couldn't stop complaining about two things: 1. Her ex-husband. 2. How she wished Springsteen was still playing with the E Street Band. My mind wandered over to the cute tall brown-haired woman sitting alone in the row below us, next to some empty seats. She was enjoying herself -- I wish I had been with her; she seemed like a real fan of The Boss.' "
"And I am, as you found out. So you sat near me at that concert? Wow ... Chocolate, B?" You bite into a delicious strawberry creme-filled piece, then offer him the box.
"Not right now, thanks. Next entry: '14 May 2005 -- I went to the library to check out some books -- and the tall, brown-haired woman is a librarian there! I went to the reference desk to ask her a question ("Will you go out with me?"). When it was my turn, another librarian helped me. Will try again soon.' "
"The staff thought you loved books and ideas ..."
"Which I do."
"All the while, you lusted after the librarian." You laugh, then wink at him.
"Which I did. Now, I'm not going to read all of this to you tonight," he tells you, closing the little book. "It's really for you to read on your own. So, where's my Valentine's Day present?" he asks with a little boy's voice.
"Since you've been a good husband, I did get you a present or two." You kiss him. "Some candy for you." You hand him a bag of candy Valentine hearts. "A Valentine." You hand him a card. "And something else." You hand him another envelope. "A gift card for the big Barnes & Noble bookstore near us. Since I of course thought you'd be on your feet when I bought the gift card, I thought you and I could wander through the store together and pick out a book or two for you."
"We will do that the day I'm back on my feet." B kisses your cheek. "Thank you, love."
You hug each other and cuddle on the bed. "You're welcome. Happy Valentine's Day, B."
"Happy Valentine's Day, J."
You're having a happy Valentine's Day after all.
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