Let’s face it:  some ladies may try to hide it, but deep down you’re depressed about Valentine’s Day. Forced to view all the flower and “Every Kiss Begins with Kay” commercials while knowing you’re alone is getting to you, I know. And you’re getting diddly squat. It’s just not fair. It’s sad.

So now is the time of year when all these bloggers suggest things that should cheer you up. But you know that they don’t. And really, a spa day? Getting together with girlfriends? You do that already. It’s VALENTINE’S DAY. The day that little birds mate? This isn’t some Hallmark Holiday. There’s a SAINT involved. Recognize.

So….for those of you who are alone….let’s really CELEBRATE, shall we?

Disclaimer: this is a satirical article. Everything here is expressed in fun, even the illegal activities. I am not endorsing felonies nor providing bail or helping with legal representation if you are arrested. In other words don’t say “She told me to do this.” Use discretion and caution. Be smart. You’re on your own. I don’t look good in prison orange. You probably don’t, either.

1)      Cry

That’s right. Have a good cry. You deserve it. You’re tired of pretending it’s okay. All those months, days, minutes alone. Go for it. If you’re like me, do it early in the day; if I cry late at night, I wake up with swollen eyes and can’t see.

2)      Dressed Up and Stood Up.

This only works if you don’t do this where you normally hang out. If you’re like me, when you go out locally, you run into friends from high school, and since Facebook exists, they probably know what you’re up to. You can’t fake the funk.

First of all, get all dressed up! Get your hair done, zip up that cute dress, and strap on those semi-hooker heels. Then go sit in a classy bar at 5pm that has a male bartender, taking full advantage of that happy hour. Might try a hotel bar. Look happy at first, then gradually despondent as a half hour passes. Check watch and cell phone frequently. At the very least, the bartender will notice that you’ve been “stood up”. You might meet someone.

3)      Revenge

He probably had it coming to him, right? Just remember, cars have four tires.

Just make sure that you don’t do anything that can be traced back to you. So when you send that mutilated ketchup-doused naked Ken doll with a shiv through its gut and a note that says “YOU”, do NOT put it through the US Postal Service. If he’s not local, just forget it. Fed-Ex tracks everything, too. And don’t leave it in his mailbox, either; that’s federal property. A 3 AM drive-by dressed in black is recommended. Also, buy the Ken doll from a store not in your county, or steal your niece’s. Tell her Ken left Barbie, the pig.

Oh, and if dude has a beard, use an old school GI Joe. Remember those?

If you have access to a Trac-phone, you might want to consider a special call to that cozy restaurant he picked out for himself and that whore he’s dating now. You know what I mean. Trust me, use an untraceable phone for shenanigans like this; where are you going to find a pay phone these days? Not at airports and hotels; too many cameras. Be wise. Don’t call in threats from your own phone. You do watch CSI, right?

4)      Send flowers to yourself at work.

I know, it’s cheesy, but hey. They’re pretty, they smell good, and you’re just using the money for the flowers that you would have spent on a new dress or some other accessory. Look up and smile a lot when someone remarks on them. Looking down means you’re lying.

And if the dude you like ends up “admitting” he sent them, you can tell him at your 20^th anniversary that you actually sent them to yourself. But don’t ask him to pay for them.

5)      Get her.

You know who I mean, the one at work who thinks she’s so cute? The one with the baby doll voice that goes up several octaves when she talks to a man? Yeah, her.

Chances are she’ll have plans with one of those dudes who are dying to be with her, and she’ll be all dressed up in some work-appropriate (or not) red dress. Find out what time she’s leaving work and verify she’s going straight to the restaurant. Then “accidentally” bump into her about fifteen minutes before she leaves, not sooner. Spilling black coffee. But be nice, don’t make it hot. And for God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t get the coffee in her hair, ESPECIALLY if she’s a Black woman . You’ll thank me later.

6)      Mysteriously gift him.

Okay, here’s a positive one. Flowers, booze, power tools, whatever. Guys always complain they never get anything. Make someone happy.

The Ken doll thing I mentioned earlier can work in the opposite way. Keep the doll naked, or get the one with the tux on. Get a little bottle of champagne (they’re sold in four packs at supermarkets) and sprinkle the inside of the package with roses. Not a tux guy? Just leave Ken naked. Make sure he’s the appropriate race/color. The doll, that is.

You could really have fun with this one. The object of your desire is a construction worker, you say? Dress Ken up like one and pack a beer, preferably the favorite of the man you’re trying to impress. Or a tiny bottle of Jack . BevMo sells those.

Whatever you do, make sure you include the mysterious note “YOU”.

Enjoy your day!

dumbesttweets:

“Coke a Cola”? Oh.

Yes….the happiest!

dumbesttweets:

#DairyAir. Just when I think it couldn’t get any worse…

Wow.

You know you wanted to know what happened next…here it is:

People left the party in groups, congratulating Jake for his new endeavor and thanking Tina and Roger for hosting the afterparty. Soon it was just the four of us, drinking water while we cleaned up. Most people took leftovers with them, so there wasn’t much to do. Toss a bunch of bottles into the recycling bin, mainly.

Tina handed me two bottles of water. “Dude, lock up when you’re done, you’re gonna stay here, right?”

“You know it, my bag’s in the car,” I said.

“Well, you know where the towels are. Jake, you staying?” Tina had an evil sparkle in her eye. I knew what she was thinking.

Jake shook his head. “Naw, I’m good. I’ll probably go to Old Town, some friends from Tech are at Lucky’s. They keep texting me. I should get going. Thanks for everything. You and Roger are awesome.”

“Okay, but you can stay if you want; we’ve got plenty of room. I’ll leave you a t-shirt and towel in the blue room if you change your mind. Roger’s making breakfast. Banana pancakes. Night, dudes.”  She hugged Jake. “Great working with you, dude. Good luck.” I didn’t look at her because I knew she was winking at me. “Jackie, show him where the blue room is.”

Darn her.

Jake walked me out to my car, hands on my shoulders. Like he was steering me to my car, which I actually needed, given all the wine I’d had. When he reached my car, he said, “Give me the keys, I’ll get your bag,” as he took them from me and pressed the remote to pop the trunk. Before he could reach in, the alcohol kicked in and I teetered in my 4 inch heeled boots right off the curb and right into Jake, who turned and grabbed me before I fell into the trunk of my own car. I put my arms around him for balance. He caught me and put me right back on the curb.  Now we were eye to eye.

His eyes bore into mine. “I knew you wanted me,” he said, and he kissed me. As young as he was, I figured he’d have one of those pile-driving tongues, darting hard, trying to annihilate the inside of my mouth. I was dead wrong.  Firm lips caressed my own, sucking slightly. He nibbled my lips, then left them to trail his own down my neck. I gasped. If he hadn’t been holding me, I would have fallen to the curb.

The thought of Tina watching us made me stop, but he pulled me back in. Take two. Damn, he was a great kisser. Then he stopped and looked at me.

“I don’t have to go to Lucky’s. Tina said I could stay.  Maybe I’m too drunk to drive now.”  He grinned and leaned in for another kiss.

I could finally feel my legs. “Mmhmm. It’s cold out here, let’s go inside.” That kiss rocked me, my lips still burned and I was trying not to show it. We walked back inside, he carrying my bag with one hand and the other hand on my shoulder.  My legs were shaking, and it wasn’t from the wine. “I’ll take that,” took my bag from him and walked down the hall with it.

Jake followed me.

“Your room, huh?” he said when I walked inside. “Nice.”  He stood in the doorway leaning on it.  Just a bed, chair, dresser, sewing machine and a big cushy chair.  Two collages of photos from our trips were on opposite walls. Images of Jupiter and Saturn were over the bed, a nod to our NASA days

I put my bag on the bed next to my purse and turned around to face him. “So…. what’s with Bianca?”

Jake turned red. Really red. “She had to go to work.” He looked around the room, but not at me.

“Work? What does she do?”

“Um, reception.”

“At night?”

“She works at a hotel.”

“How’d you meet her?”

“You liked that kiss, didn’t you?”  He finally looked at me. Countered.

“I guess she’s not your girlfriend.”

He blinked, grinned. “Do you want another kiss?  I’m not working with you anymore. It’s okay now, right?”

I’m blaming the booze for this next question. I’m normally not so to the point. “You didn’t hire Bianca, did you? For tonight?”

I got to him.  His face crumbled.

“She’s a friend of a friend. She needed cash. She was bored tonight.” He weaved slightly.

“I’m sorry Jake, that was cold.”

“it was true.  I just suck.” He hung his head.

“No you don’t.”

“You wouldn’t have gone with me tonight if I asked, right?” Alcohol had made him braver.  I remembered last month when he tricked me into taking him to his ex-girlfriend’s Christmas party and pretended I was his girlfriend. That was champagne’s fault.  Tonight, chianti and a few Belgian ales were the guilty parties. He was still weaving a bit.

I ignored the question. “Are you going to stay? I don’t think you should be driving; I know you drank more than me.  It’s okay, Tina won’t mind. Let me show you where the room is.”

And it was called the blue room because…well, it was blue.  Powder-blue walls, steel blue drapes, navy comforter on a king-sized bed with electric blue sheets and pillows.  A photo of Hawaiian waves over the bed (I’d taken that photo; Tina and I lived on mai tais that trip).  And Tina had left Jake an oversized Dodgers shirt and a pair of black sweats.

I want to point out that Tina also left Jake a condom in the t-shirt.  It fell to the floor when he unfolded the shirt. He picked it up and said “You should stay now.  My bed’s bigger than yours.” He wiggled the condom.

“We’ve never dated.”  I said by way of excuse.

“So? Whose fault is that?”

“I refuse to have sex with a man I’ve never dated.” My mind went back to Peter, a friend from college who had become more a week after Drew dumped me.  We’d hung out for a few days before doing the deed on my living room rug. Had we been dating?  Sure felt like it.  But that was less than two weeks ago.  Peter was now back up in Seattle preparing to fight his wife for custody of their two kids.  I didn’t want any part of that.

“Fine, we’ll date tomorrow,” said Jake.

“It’s already tomorrow, and I’m not having sex with you tonight.” I folded my arms.  My heart was pounding.  I ignored it.

“Okay, then we’ll just cuddle.”

“Is that like sticking the tip in?”

He laughed. I shushed him. “Don’t make the dogs come in here.”

“No, really, I promise. Just stay with me.  I’ll be a good boy. Your rules.  I just want to snuggle with you.”

“If you want to keep your boy parts, you’d better keep that promise.” The alcohol wouldn’t stop talking for me.  That’s all I can say.

He hugged me in response. I felt enveloped. So tempting. Did I mention that Jake is 6’5”?  I rarely dated men that tall; height was never a big thing for me. Everyone thinks because I’m 5’7” and like wearing heeled boots, I want a giant of a man. It’s not that serious. I don’t consider someone 5’9” short, and it doesn’t bug me if I’m taller than someone. I know people mention the Napoleon complex, but I don’t assume because a man is only 5’5”, he’s got issues with it. I’ll at least get to know him.

And that’s how I got my nickname “The Lollipop Guild” in college. “The Wizard of Oz” was my favorite movie.

I’ve had one date with someone taller than Jake and I felt like child next to him. He was 6’10”. Watching that guy fold himself into my car was something to see.

Against better judgment, I went back to my room, took off my makeup, changed into my sweats and crept back to the blue room, after messing up my bed.  Jake was already in his, snoring, but he woke up about halfway after I got in.

If hugging him was nice, snuggling was even better.  He really was likeable.  I’d enjoyed working with him for the past 18 months. I was asleep in no time. My cell phone alarm jarred me awake at 4am. Jake mumbled the f-word a few times and I got out of bed.  He grabbed my wrist.

“Where you goin?”

“To my room, before Tina wakes up.”

“What time is it?”

“Just after 4. The dogs wake everyone up at 5:30am.”

“Christ, Jackie, she left me a condom, she doesn’t want you to leave. I’m sure she didn’t give it to me to masturbate in.”

I giggled. Jake had no filter.  Whatever he thought came right out of his mouth.

I leaned over to kiss him and he pulled me on top of him.

“Well, someone’s awake,” I said.

“We’re both awake.”  He wriggled. “We” didn’t mean him and I. Oh my. Even through the comforter.

“I’m not staying.” It took everything for me to say that.

“You will, someday.” He rubbed my nose with his, then started kissing me again.

It took 20 minutes to get our tongues out of each other’s mouths and leave the blue room. I staggered back to my room without waking up the dogs and drank about 10 cups of water.  I looked at myself in the mirror.  I still looked good, even with the bed hair. 

What was stopping me from going back to Jake?  I wasn’t comfortable with all the recent bed-hopping, that’s why. 

I crashed for a few hours.

As promised, Roger made pancakes with bananas and nuts, eggs and bacon. An entire drum section had entered my head when I woke up around 10 am, but a shower and some aspirin made me feel better.  I wandered into the kitchen wearing sweats and an XXL Lakers t-shirt. and sat down.  Tina was squeezing oranges.

“Why you guys let me drink so much?”

“I’m not your keeper. Have some.” She passed me a glass. “Did Jake stay?”

“Yeah, he decided he was too drunk to drive anywhere.”

“Uh huh.”  Tina grinned wickedly.  “Want me to put some champagne in that?”

Jake shuffled in, hair sticking up.  “Hey Tina, thanks for this,” and he threw the crumpled condom wrapper at her.  My heart sunk as Tina squealed. Before anyone else could say anything, Jake cracked up laughing.  “Oh man, got you good, Tina.  You should have seen your face.”

“Oh, I hate you.  Go eat outside with the dogs.” Mickey, Adam and Rocky were Australian shepherds.  They rushed passed Roger to greet me.  Then they ran to Jake.  They sniffed him, they then looked back at me.  Then they smelled him some more.  Then Rocky, the black and white dog, sniffed the condom wrapper and whined.

Even the dogs knew.

Jake walked me to my car.  “So when are we going out?”

“Hmmm.”

“Well?”

“Call me.”

“Okay.”

I was halfway home when I realized I’d left my cell phone charging in Tina’s spare room.  I turned around to retrieve it. When I got to her place, she opened the door, handed me my phone and charger and said, “Dude, how is he?”

“He’s fine, he’s driving home.” I walked inside. “Do you have any asprin?  My head is killing me.”

“Not, that, I know you slept with him.”

“Didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Dammit, Jackie, you’re single. So what if things didn’t work out between Drew and you? And Peter’s out of the picture, too, right?  You should be having more fun.”

“Tina, I’ve never dated the man.”

“You worked with him for 18 months.  That’s like being married already.  Consummate the thing!”

“I can’t believe you gave him a condom.”

“Hey, we’re all friends, right. I look after my friends. ”

“Still.”

“You’re single, he’s hot, you’re hot, you aren’t coworkers any more.  Go have coffee and squishy squishy time with him. I won’t tell.”

I snorted out a laugh. Ow. Head still hurt.

“Okay, fine.  For your ears only, Tina. We slept together.  Slept.  No sex. You happy?”

“Right. I bet he stuck the tip in.”

“You wanna check? Swab me for semen and/or lube? Go ahead.” I started to pull down my sweats.

“Eww!’ she jumped back . First time I’d answered her tit for tat.  Then she laughed.

“Okay, dude, I believe you. Leave your pants on.”

“I’m gonna head home, Tina.  I need more sleep.”

“Sleep here.  We’ll do something fun for dinner.”

Flag pole.  Preferably 5.5 feet long.

This is a scene from “January’s Dilemma”—their hotshot young programmer, Jake, is leaving Alexandria Computing to go back to school. He’s had a crush on Jackie, the lead character, since he met her. Jake’s been in all three novels, since the first one written in 2009. I decided he needed a bigger part in the third novel.

I’d told Jake last month that I wouldn’t date him because we worked together. The fact that he was under 30 meant that he was also off-limits as far as I was concerned, but my being over 40 only made him more interested. Now he was leaving the company to get another PhD. I might have to eat my words.

As I was driving to dinner I thought of my excursion to Malibu last weekend. Was Jake the young boy the psychic said was going to be in my life this year? Oh, that was probably a shot in the dark. Everyone was doing the cougar thing these days. She knew my age, (I’d given her my birthdate) and I wasn’t wearing a ring. You didn’t need any special powers to guess there’d be a chance there could be someone younger in my life.

Jake’s going away celebration started at a Italian restaurant in Pasadena. Jake, who is at least 6’5”, had shown up with an equally tall and model-thin leggy blonde date in a bright red dress with straps crisscrossing her chest and upper back. Her five-inch heels sparkled more wildly than Dorothy’s ruby slippers. She was all smiles, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Her smile grew wider when Jake introduced us. He’d told her something about me.

Whatever.

She was a pretty zombie. No, more like an android. I wondered if she’d been properly charged up for the night.  For Jake’s sake, of course.

Waitresses dropped off tons of dishes, family style.  Meatballs as big as fists, miles of spaghetti, piled platters of antipasti. We drank Chianti in raffia-covered bottles, of course. Chicken in chunks of peppers and tomatoes. Marguerite pizzas. Loaves of garlic bread. I’d better take it easy if I was going to be dancing in that reality show soon. I nibbled.

There were photos all over the walls that looked like photos you’d see in an album or in frames on the wall of a living room or hallway of the family home. Two photos caught my eye: one of a bride playing soccer in full gown, and a quartet of women eating spaghetti. Two moments, captured in time forever, like all photos. I wondered what happened to the people. Did she stay married? Kids? Grandkids? And the four women eating spaghetti; did they remain friends? Were they still alive?

Our CEO presented Jake with a new laptop. Nice parting gift. He’d been a lot of fun to work with. However, we were having financial issues, so his leaving meant someone wouldn’t have to be laid off. And I loved my work family. On the plus side, Caltech wasn’t that far from Alexandria Computing.

Tina announced that dessert and more drinks would be at her house. Everyone welcome. I knew the older staff would beg off, so it’d be just us young things. On the way to my car, I saw Jake and Bianca gesturing wildly in the parking lot. I shrugged and drove to Tina’s house.

I thought about the evening during the brief ride from dinner to dessert. Bianca had been odd. While most of the men had spent the evening trying to look down her dress as their women fumed next to them, it didn’t seem like she even wanted to be there. Or with Jake. She had a thousand-yard stare for most of the evening, and kept touching her nose, as if she expected it to fall off at any moment. I didn’t want to accuse him of a setup, but that’s what it appeared to be.

Male ego, I suppose. Leaving with a bang. He had been dating a medical student until last month, where she chose schooling over him. It rocked him pretty badly. But since going back home to Wisconsin for Christmas, he seemed more content. If he had really been with Bianca, I think he would have exhibited more of a glow about her.

Jake had done studies in applied math at Caltech. Computers were a hobby. A HOBBY. He wasn’t into teaching, and there just weren’t too many jobs out there for his type of analysis, so he picked Alexandria Computing for his first job after he finished his PhD.

In the middle of dinner, Tina, my best friend, leaned over to me and said “Dude, Jake keeps staring at you and not his hoochie.”

“Tina, shush, that’s not nice.”

“Well, dude, look at the chick, about to serve her boobies up for dessert. And he looks like he’d rather have chocolate than vanilla.”

And speaking of dessert, Tina had gone all out. When I walked into her kitchen, there were cheesecakes, pies, mini cupcakes, tiramisu and every wine known to man sat on the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room. The dining room flowed into the family room. Party house!

“Where’s the man of the hour?” someone asked. And on cue, Jake walked in. Alone. His excuse? “She had to work in the morning.” Okay. I wasn’t buying it. He looked good tonight, too. Instead of his usual torn jeans and classic rock t-shirts, he was wearing a black sweater and charcoal slacks.  He grabbed a beer and sat down next to me.

Roger, Tina’s husband, a former Marine and one of the founders of the company, put some music on, bottles were opened, and tales flowed with the wine. Steve, Roger’s partner, told the story of when Jake came to interview, answering questions before Steve could get them out. He was hired in 18 minutes. At one point Tina and I had walked past his office and Jake’s voice rang out “Oh, I’m working here, you’ve got great software and hot women.”

Tina teased him. “And you’re throwing this all away for Caltech?”

“I have to take my passion and make it happen.” He winked at me. Who knew a 20-something knew anything about “Flashdance”?

Oh listen to me, sounding like some old fogey. I guess it starts in one’s 40s.

We all shared first day stories. Tina went back to 1988, the day we met. “Here’s this hot mama, walking into NASA’s visitor center, and the receptionists think she’s there for a secretarial job. She tells them she’s there for a programming job and they didn’t know what to say. Jackie has this look on her face like ‘Yeah, and?’, no one said a word.”

“Til that old man came up to me and said ‘Alright, sister’, and I had no idea he was a big manager,” I said. “Meanwhile, Tina’s sitting there looking like some high school kid, and the new hire coordinator tells her “We aren’t hiring summer hires yet’, and she says ‘Good, because I’m a college grad’. She saw me smiling at her and that’s when we became buddies.”

Roger laughed.  “How come I never heard that story?”

“You’ve heard it.  We tell it almost every time we drink.  You just forget.”

I excused myself to go to the bathroom.  When I opened the door to leave, Jake was waiting.

“Hey, I’m leaving.”

“Already?  Okay.” I moved to hug him.

“No, no, I meant I’m leaving Alexandria.”

“Uh, yeah, Jake, I know.”

He’d made no move to enter the restroom, just kept looking at me.  “You look nice tonight.”

I looked down.  Purple sweater, black jeans, and studded purple boots (I’d found them at DSW and my shoe guy hooked me up with someone who decorated shoes with studs and bling.  Totally cool.)  “Thanks, Jake.”

“The girls at Caltech aren’t as hot as you.”

“Good, you’ll get a lot of work done.”  I sidestepped him and went back to the party.  I felt like he was working his way up to asking me something more personal, and I wasn’t ready for that.

Plus, he was looking almost hot that night.

Tina was filling my glass as I walked into the great room. “You took long enough. Dude, remember when we filled old angry Ed’s drawer with Jell-O?”

“Tina, you did that?” Roger was surprised.

“Which angry Ed?” I asked.

“Oh yeah, there were two. Hmm. The tall one.”

“How’d we end up with two angry Jewish New Yorker programmers named Edward Alfred Sheinbeck?”

“Isn’t Jewish New Yorker redundant?”

“No, there’s the Italians, too.”

“His middle name was Alfred?”

“Both of them. It was hell on Payroll.”

“I always thought it stood for asshole.”  Everyone laughed.

“I guess we just got lucky, meeting those two crusty farts.”

“All bad luck. They were some grumpy mofos. Their Cheerios came with fecal matter already.”

Jake was laughing. “Why’d you do that to him?”

“Because he told us we needed to quit working there and get husbands to cook for, so we could free up jobs for real men,” I said.

“We should have reported his ass. Cranky old chauvinist.” Tina poured herself more wine.

“Yeah, well, we left him dessert. That’s better than dinner. Put his removable drawer in the fridge with all his office supplies submerged in Jell-O on a Friday night, took it out early Monday morning and put it back into his desk.”  I kept eyeing the cakes on the counter. I had to be strong.

“We put fruit cocktail in there. Recipe straight out of Ladies Home Journal. Who says we can’t cook?”

“He blamed Tom for that, too.”

Tina laughed. “Oh yeah, the Chair Wars.”

I laughed too. “Tom Paxton was another angry one. So many mini-psychopaths in computer science, it’s a wonder we’re still alive. He and Ed were fighting over this one chair. So juvenile. Both men were in their late 40s, and they kept stealing this one chair from each other.”

“The boss finally took it from them, and they tried to report him for ‘hostile working conditions’. After we all went to HR and reported them fighting, they almost lost their jobs.”

Jake and the other young hires looked at us like we were goddesses. “Man, you guys were cool,” said Jake.

Steve frowned. “If I end up with any Jell-O, you guys are dead. Just remember that.” He eyed our newest hires.

“I should go back in this weekend and Jell-O Darlene’s office,” said Jake.

“Why Darlene?” She was our chief financial officer and in charge of the accountant section. She’d been at the dinner, talked the most crap about Jake’s date and left early. “What did she ever do to you?”

“She’s evil. Why is she so nasty to you?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I know why, dude,” said Tina. “She found out you’re 5 years older than her and look 15 years younger.”

“Not my fault she spent her teens in a tanning booth covered in baby oil. Besides, she’s married.” She always made comments about me being single. I ignored her.

“What does her being married have to do with anything?”

“Well, he’s supposedly rich, they take European vacations all the time. Why would she care what I look like.”

Tina shrugged. “She’s a woman.”

And so the party went. Stories, sharing, drinking. I had a bit too much. I always did at Tina’s house, with glasses never reaching half-empty. I knew if I had to, I could spend the night there. I lived about 8 miles away and there was no reason to risk a DUI or accident.

People gradually drifted out, congratulating Jake for his new endeavor and thanking Tina and Roger for hosting. Soon it was just the four of us, drinking water while we cleaned up.

Roger had already gone to bed. Tina was bringing in the dogs, who normally slept in the kitchen at night. “Dude, lock up, you’re gonna stay here, right?”

“Yeah. You know I keep a bag in the car,” I said.

“Yeah, well, you know where the towels are. Jake, you staying?”

Tina had an evil sparkle in her eye. I knew what she was thinking.

  This was written for NPR’s 7th installment of their Three Minute Fiction contest. The theme:  one character had to arrive and one had to leave, in less than 600 words.  Unfortunately, it didn’t win.

  As usual, I have the following disclaimer: this is fiction, this isn’t me, and this didn’t happen.  Any resemblance to any people/places/things is just me being psychic again.

Happy reading!

————————

“You’re going to regret this.”

  Those were her last words to Michael, but he kept walking out of her house, never looking back. Before he left, he told her that Anita needed him more than she did. She had a duplex, worked for a reputable law firm and volunteered at a shelter. Anita worked 80 hours a week and was raising a little girl whose weed-selling gang-banging father was killed by a rival gang the night before. Michael chose Anita, his medical office’s cleaning woman, not her.

  Michael left two messages, apologizing for how things turned out, asking if they could remain friends. She didn’t respond to them or to the creamy wedding invitation that arrived a month later. She stayed home the day of the ceremony, blinds closed, hugging herself and trying not to vomit. She fell asleep crying. The next day she accepted a job in Ventura County and began apartment hunting.

  She might have missed the wedding, but she needed to attend his funeral five months later.

——-

   Her long drive to Pasadena was tearful as she reminisced. She’d met Michael at a party three years ago, his first day in town, both carrying the same bottle of champagne. Many lunches and dinners followed. They both loved yellowtail sushi and hated tattoos. Stevie Wonder was their soundtrack as friendship turned to passion.

   She entered the church and crossed herself. A single mahogany casket graced the transept. Mourners murmured, “The last time we were here, it was for his wedding.” She sat in the last pew, a stone face of grief. Her final words to Michael echoed in her head, but she was the one with regrets.

   The shooting of Wilbur, Marta’s father, sparked a city-wide war that continued for months. Both gangs lost members. Michael and Anita became specific targets because of Marta; they were found shot to death in the back seat of his Mustang abandoned in the foothills north of the city. Marta’s blood splattered the front seat, but she was never seen again. The Pasadena Star News offered a $100,000 reward for any information leading to an arrest.

   Friends spoke of Michael’s generosity and honesty. Funny, she never knew that Anita existed until that awful morning. She couldn’t forget his three painful words: “I love her”. Look what love for an illiterate unwed mother offered by a successful oncologist. Didn’t logic tell Michael that gang ties could kill? Didn’t it tell him that emotions weren’t instructions? He didn’t deserve to die.

 During Communion, Michael’s best friends noticed her sitting alone and pulled her up front. The mass washed over her. She stood when they stood, kneeled when they kneeled, all by rote. Communion had been a bitter sip, a bite of something flat while the organ sounded chords of loss. Few eyes remained dry.

   The priest said it was Michael’s time. She rejected that notion. Michael was dead because he’d chosen the wrong woman. He’d be alive today if he’d picked her. No one was after her. She had no debt or gang ties. Judges noticed her, put her on the fast track. She’d won certificates for her charitable works. A life of promise awaited her and she took charge.

    She walked out before the service ended. Sitting for long periods was uncomfortable and her contractions were increasing in frequency and intensity. As she started her BMW she said, “I’d better get us to the hospital, Michael Junior. I wouldn’t want to give birth to you here, in the car.” She patted her belly and drove homeward.

Look.   A scene.  A real scene. Who knows if it’ll make the final cut.  But it’s time to share.  Enjoy.

(I have never done any speed dating.  However, some of these conversations did take place)

  My friend Julie talked me into it.  Here I was, participating in my first Speed Dating event. I’d seen it on TV and read about it.  Now it was time to experience it for myself. My friend Julie, tall, blonde and in no hurry to settle, was into banking and thought it was a safe way to meet new guys. “You know, those club and barfly dudes, I’m so over that.  Just try it with me.”

  So before all this happened, Tina had to be consulted on dress, hair and makeup.  She insisted. So we sat in my bedroom and she inspected my closet.

  “Jackie, I like this. Wear the purple dress!  Be Miss Cleavage tonight!”

  “C’mon Tina “

  “Oh, just do it.  You’re never going to see these folks again. Either that or the leather miniskirt.”

  “I might see them. You know how we all travel. I’m always running into people I know from the past.

After watching the woman in the wedding dress sitting in the rear of the crowded bar, he decided to make his move.  The bartender shook his head.

She looked up at Carlos as he approached her table.  She nodded as he sat.

“That bad, huh?”

“Yeah.  His bachelor party videos came out. Six women.”

“That’s bad.”

The bar buzzed, watching the couple with their heads together walk out.

“Nice that your dress still fits.”

“Thanks, hon.” They kissed.

—-

This story was inspired by the ending of “The Graduate”, with Ben and Elaine sitting in the back of the bus after she runs away from her wedding.  I always thought it would be funny to recreate that scene in real life.