Author’s Note: Welcome to my Valentine’s Day story! For those of you who know me, this will be a very different story than I’m used to writing, but it is the season of love. For those of you who are unfamiliar with me, thank you for checking out not only my entries, but my first appearance in the adult category. For those who haven’t read my previous work, I do have a disclaimer, I believe the difference between erotica and non-erotica is not about gender, but how we approach gender. I’m slowly starting to tell the story and I’m sure I’ll get around to it eventually, but if you like a quick story then this story is not for you. For the rest of you, enjoy!
*
I groaned at the siren and pulled the pillow over my head. I didn’t get any sleep until those idiots next door stopped playing music at three in the morning and I was ready to wake up. Nowadays, getting out of bed isn’t exciting, but as my grandfather always said, “The day you’re on the right side of the dirt is a good day.” I remember thinking when my grandfather said that, maybe it would be better to be buried in the dirt? When you find out, you won’t be able to tell anyone.
Grandpa knew about it five years ago, but he said nothing. With a happy heart, I thought that there really couldn’t be a worse situation than my current one. No, quitters think that way, and my Aunt Mary didn’t raise quitters. She may have raised some idiots, as I found out the hard way, but I wasn’t one of them. I reached out, found a cheap plastic alarm clock, and turned it off. I threw the pillow away from my face, looked at the yellowed, cracked plaster on the ceiling, and repeated the mantra I’d started every day with for the past few months.
“It’s going to be even better than this.”
I said it out loud, though not confidently, sitting down on the cheap makeshift bed that served as my bed these days. Even though I had a blanket wrapped around me and two sweatshirts on, I was still shivering. I felt a gust of wind and looked up to see the little piece of plastic I had attached to the broken window had fallen off. I climbed off the rickety cot, walked over to the pile of clothes in the corner and picked up a brown hooded sweatshirt. It was dirty even by my standards, but I only had a few dollars and I had to wait again to go to the laundromat.
I originally wanted to walk down the hallway to see if the showers were free, but immediately changed my mind. I had to start my morning commute in a few minutes and I couldn’t dry my hair. The weather is in the teens today and I don’t need to get sick anymore. Besides, the last time I tried to shower, the water was brown and I came out dirtier than when I started. Oh well, what can I expect for a hundred bucks a week, heat and clean water?
I put the dirty sweatshirt on over the other two pieces, found the least dirty pair of jeans I had, and put them on over the sweatpants I had on. I glanced at the pair of worn sneakers on the floor and shook my head. It was too cold and wet for those. Walking toward the cramped, doorless closet, I picked up my latest prize, a half-decent pair of work boots that had been thrown into a corner bin. I sat down on one of the two mismatched chairs at the little table, put on my shoes, and looked into the closet.
There were three of my nice things hanging, a blue long sleeve dress shirt, black Dockers and a pair of black shoes that looked great. Those were my interview clothes and sadly I hadn’t had a chance to wear them for about a month. It wasn’t for lack of trying, I had submitted dozens of applications at that point and no one was hiring. Well, at least they don’t hire people who have no real work experience, who don’t have a car, who live in the worst part of town and who don’t have a phone number. I usually give them Gino’s phone number, but if he doesn’t answer, they hear his voicemail and know it’s not my call.
I bought a cell phone a few months ago when I had a vacation and was able to unload a truck under the desk for a week, but time passed and things got into the phone or hacked it. My only job during that time was when Gino hired me to clean tables at his father’s restaurant two nights a week. I made fifty cash a night. That’s enough to pay for my fancy house. The silly little things like food, laundry, and the occasional haircut are all paid for by my “day job.”
I ran my fingers through my sandy brown hair as I looked at the old mirror on the wall above my dresser. I looked a little scruffy, but I figured I wasn’t going to get a hot date in the near future, and shaving in the cold water of the communal bathroom was going to make me antsy anyway. I looked at the alarm clock, it was almost six thirty, I had to go. Just because I don’t have a job doesn’t mean other people don’t have jobs, and this is the perfect time to get one. After all, their livelihood is in a way my current livelihood.
I put on a pair of fingerless gloves, then picked up the six dollars that were in my name from the table, stuffed them in my pocket, and put on a flimsy pair of gloves that had been given to me in good faith. I walked to the door and pulled out the chair that had been stuck under the door handle. Several times recently I’d heard someone trying to open the door, but I never took the risk. I’ll never for the life of me understand how anyone who lives here could think that anyone else who lives here would have anything else worth stealing. For that matter, I’ll never understand why that crazy whore across the hall kept tempting me. Even if I had been interested in going where everyone else had gone before, I wouldn’t have dared to give her a kiss on the cheek, much less have sex.
I started to walk in the door, then caught myself. I had almost forgotten about my ad. I went back to the desk, picked up the cardboard sign and looked at what I had written there. “With any bad luck, anything helps.” I closed my eyes and fought back the tears of frustration that still came to me every day for months after. I took a deep breath, whispered, “It will get better than this,” and went outside again, swallowing my pride.
*****
I walked quickly down the street, partly because I wanted to get to the exit ramp before anyone else did, but also because the temperature outside was only fifteen degrees. But still, I usually walk pretty fast on this street, especially when it’s dark. As I crossed the intersection and headed toward Broad Street, things got better nearby and I slowed down. The clock outside the bank read six-fifty, which meant I made good time and was able to take a few minutes for a quick snack at Cumberland Farms. This brief stop also gave me a chance to enjoy a little warmth before spending the next few hours shivering outside.
Upon entering the store, I immediately walked over to the small bargain rack to check out my items. The shelves are mostly filled with pastries that cost less than a dollar. For the past six months, things like this, along with the fast food menu, have been my means of survival. For eight to ten dollars, I could eat three meals a day and occasionally have a cup of coffee or two in between. After a few seconds of debate, I picked up a cheese Danish and looked over at the coffee pot. I can buy a large cheese for a buck and it would be great for escaping the cold.
I started to move on, then stopped. People are assholes and once, as I was standing there with my coffee, a man suddenly said that, seeing that I was drinking coffee, I must be one of those liars he had heard about. I stopped hesitantly at the jar, then shrugged and decided to move on and since it was cold, maybe Paula would get me one today; the thought of that brought a small smile to my lips. Paula is usually the highlight of my day and has been for a while. Our conversations were brief, usually just a few minutes before she stopped by to give me coffee and a few dollars, but she gave me something I was hoping for.
After finishing my coffee, I turned and walked towards the counter. Seeing her hand me the coffee, I picked up a small pack of mini donuts to go with the Danish. Oh yes, I had a great day today. I walked up to the counter and stopped when I saw a Providence police officer standing in line to pay for my coffee. I recognized him as the man who had passed me out around the corner so many times and backed away. Unfortunately he turned back at this very moment and saw me shaking my head,
“Good morning Jamie, you don’t want to get into trouble do you?”
“Yes sir.” I said.
I turned my head away in embarrassment and several other people in the queue started looking at me. The police are so stupid. Then he was doing his job again, never taking me to the station as he could have, just letting me walk. I decided to wait for him to leave and get in line, then strolled down the middle aisle. I passed the man putting things on the shelves and realized his eyes were on me. I glanced at the circular mirror in the top right corner of the store and saw him staring at me. Probably waiting for me to take something from the store. This is another little setback in life, I have never stolen anything in my life but I guess it is easy for people to make assumptions.
The sea of red caught my eye and I noticed that the entire left side of the hallway was dedicated to Valentine’s Day. I rolled my eyes, sometimes it’s hard to remember that day, but then I thought about it and realized today is the 14th. What a difference a year makes. This time last year, I was living with Aunt Mary during my second semester at URI and spent Valentine’s Day with Tammy at a cozy little hotel. Now my aunt lives in a nursing home and one day she recognized me, I had no money and had to drop out of school, and as for Tammy?
I looked down at the floor, out of all the things that had happened to me in the last few months, this was still the most humiliating. Tammy’s family had money and she was always a little better off. Even when I was hanging out, her family wanted to know what she saw in me. However, once things got tough, that started to change. When I lived with my roommate, she would often ask me when I would have a job, when I would have money, or when I would be able to go back to school. Her father would drive her around me, hoping that she wouldn’t be inconvenienced in any way or that she wouldn’t have to protect me.
I became who I am now when my roommate unceremoniously kicked me out because his girlfriend had to move in with him. Soon after, I lost my job and started begging in desperation. One day, I heard someone calling my name, I looked up and wanted to get in the hole. I went to URI with my three kids, including one of Tammy’s best friends. They said a few words like “Hey, how’s it going at the new job” and then walked out.
The next day, Tammy came over alone. They told her, but she didn’t believe them. As soon as she saw me, she stormed over to me and started yelling at me, how dare I embarrass her? Here I was one step away from being homeless, my life was ruined, and I was leaving her distraught. I lost my mind and told her to go fuck herself. That was five months ago, and I’ve been doing my own thing ever since. I definitely wouldn’t consider asking a girl out, after all, I had very low expectations.
I guess in a way I should be glad I got to see Tammy’s true colors so I wouldn’t waste my life trying to please her, but the way it happened still bothers me. It’s funny how life has a way of changing your perspective quickly. Not that long ago, the thought of being alone on Valentine’s Day would have upset me. Now every day is a struggle to eat and survive, and I don’t care anymore. While it’s a shame that so many decent people are alone, there will always be people out there doing things like Tammy’s, or Mary Poppins’ Children.
My aunt always said, good things come to you, good things come to you, and bad things come to you. Sadly, Auntie’s theory is the exact opposite of what I have been seeing lately. In my opinion, people who deserve good things in life are being bullied. Paula is a perfect example. She was a charming, sweet, loving person who dedicated her life to her work. However, today is Valentine’s Day and she will be home alone as usual.
I started to walk toward the counter, but stopped and looked back at the card. Maybe I should get her a Valentine’s Day gift. No, this looks interesting, not to mention the cards are three or four dollars and who knows if I’ll get any money today. Now that four dollars guarantees me lunch. I took another step toward the front of the store, then stopped. What is wrong with me? This woman is so much better to me than any other in my life, including the girl who supposedly loves me. Now I have the chance to make her smile, but I’m avoiding it.
I went back to the cards and looked at them with a frown. I didn’t really want anything romantic or major, so to speak, just something thoughtful. I picked one that had a picture of a red heart-shaped box with a ribbon on it. The bottom of the box read, “You are a gift to my heart”. Opening the card I read a small passage inside. It talked about how the real gifts aren’t what we receive in boxes, but the gifts we receive in our hearts, our blessings.
Well, I don’t think I have too many blessings right now, but if I did, it would definitely be Paula. I flipped the card and saw that it had three dollars in it, so within budget. As I walked up to the counter, I found myself in a better mood and smiled at the guy who was staring at me. He gave me a weird look and I winked at him and pursed my lips.
“Like what you see?” I asked.
His face was redder than the cards in my hand, and he hurried back to collecting the cat food. I was still smiling as I reached the counter. It’s like my old self, always looking for opportunities to beat others. As I waited for the person in front of me, my eyes fell on a small plastic bucket filled with artificial roses on the counter. I noticed purple, Paula’s favorite color. The sign said they were a dollar, so I did a quick math, put the donuts on the shelf next to them, and picked up the roses. Denmark would suffice, I thought the roses would be a nice touch.
After paying, I stepped aside and signed the card with the pen next to the card machine. I originally wanted to write my name, but after thinking about it, I decided to write it for a woman who is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. Thank you for everything you do, you are truly a gift to me. Happy Valentine’s Day, Jamie
Having said that, I furrow my brows. That’s a little strong but that’s how I feel, she’s pretty from what I’ve seen of her, maybe the lights aren’t out but I always feel like she’s holding herself back. Paula always wore her hair up and very little makeup. The few times I’ve seen her from the car, she’s dressed not only inappropriately, but almost unattractively. Besides, this is the second time I’m standing here in stained clothes and shoes, and who am I to judge? The main thing is that I mean what I say and hope it makes her smile. She’s done that for me many times and as Auntie said, I should treat others the way they treat me.
I tucked the rose into my sweatshirt so I wouldn’t look like an idiot standing there holding it, and hurried down the street. Choosing this card made me fall a little behind, hoping that the weird old bastard who always wore a military jacket wouldn’t get there first. Usually I get to him first, but occasionally he does, as I’ve learned the hard way with a beating that street etiquette dictates that it’s your spot only if you’re the first to arrive that day. The wind picked up and I put my head down and headed for the exit of the industrial park. To try to keep my mind off the cold and stay in my first good mood all week, I thought about Paula.
In the few months I’ve been doing this, I’ve found a few regulars I think you can call. It makes sense because I work on the corner of an industrial park and people go to work this way every day. While random people would give me a dollar here and there, it seemed like most people gave me something, sometimes more than just money. Last month, a guy named Rob gave me two sweatshirts his son was planning to throw away, and a woman brought me bagels a few times.
Paula was my first regular, or at least the first regular I knew. For a few days she gave me a dollar and then the next time I saw her she gave me five dollars. I hadn’t been to that corner in a few days because I had a little work to do at the restaurant in the morning, and when I next saw her she asked my name and said she was worried because she hadn’t seen me. I was surprised and I asked why and she said I looked young and she was worried something was going to happen to me. I was so impressed that no one had worried about me for so long, and when I thanked her I felt a lump in my throat.
The next day, Paula drove her black SUV halfway across the island, got me a cup of coffee and chatted with me for a few minutes. She told me her name and that she worked as an office manager for a company on the other side of the park. Then she gave me five dollars, paused awkwardly, and asked me why I was there. I gave her my standard answer: I live with a sick family member and no one else. She was about to ask more questions, but she got the hint after my vague answer.
From then on, every morning when I saw her, she would stop by and talk to me for a few minutes. Ask me if I was going to be successful in finding a job and how I was doing overall. Usually, she would give me at least five dollars and at times buy me coffee. She was so nice to me and I started getting so much from her every day that I started to feel bad. One day, when I was upset because my phone was dead, she came back half an hour later with a ten-dollar phone card.
Paula and I learned a lot about each other a few weeks ago. It was Friday and it had snowed heavily the previous night, leaving the ground covered in over twelve inches of slush. I walked up to her place, hoping the weather would win me some sympathy and a few extra dollars. Paula came up and asked me if I wanted to earn some money. I said I would be happy to and that I would prefer to earn something rather than just accept handouts. Paula told me she had a very large driveway and sidewalk and she certainly wasn’t going to shovel it. She usually paid several neighbor kids twenty dollars each to clean up the mess, but she thought why not ask me this time?
At first I felt a little weird, I asked her if she cared, if I knew where she lived. Paula smiled and said she could tell I was a good person who had just gotten through hard times, not a criminal. I still felt weird, but she offered me forty dollars, which meant I could spend more time on my phone and maybe buy some small things I needed. I agreed and she asked me where I lived so she could pick me up. I don’t want her to do that, I hate where I live, and while I’m sure she knows I live in a ditch, I don’t want her to see it. I told her it was a rough area and I didn’t want her to drive through it.
