Writing Prompt Boot Camp, Day Two

Alright boys and girls, it's time for the second post in Writer's Prompt Boot Camp, which can be found here.  If you want to try it, all you have to do is subscribe to their free email newsletter, which is full of useful information.  Day Two asks us what would happen if we ran into an old lover on Valentine's Day, the one you call "The One Who Got Away".  Hope you enjoy.  As always, if you have a question or comment, please don't hesitate.

             I burst out of the restaurant, tears streaming down my face.  Furious, I throw my bouquet of red roses on the ground and stomp them until they are nothing more than a pile of fragrant confetti.  Sobbing, I sink down on the curb and bury my face in my hands.  I gradually become aware of wary looks from people passing by.  I take a deep breath and slowly rise to my feet.  I wipe my face and stick my arm out to hail a cab.  After three taxis sail by without picking up the disheveled crying lady surrounded by tattered roses, I throw up my arms and begin trudging up the street to the bus stop.

            My mind is racing.  I have never felt so pathetic in my life.  I had been looking forward to this night for weeks.  I went out and bought an outrageously expensive dress and the highest pair of heels I have ever owned.  My toes are numb from being squashed into these monstrosities.  I spent hours doing my hair and makeup, agonizing over which necklace to wear.  I was excited.  I was so bubbly, I felt like I had a belly full of champagne.  Now all I feel is the hangover.

            I went to the restaurant, our restaurant, where we had our first date.  As soon as I said my name to the hostess, I was whisked away to a private VIP room filled with glamorous couples.  Three waiters simultaneously handed me a dozen red roses, champagne, and a menu.  I beamed and soaked up the pampering I was receiving.  The minutes ticked by as I waited for Jordan, but he never showed.  I sat there and endured the pitied looks from the men and snotty, self-satisfied smirks from the women.  After an hour of trying to look composed while sipping my champagne, I was asked to give up my table.  My frustration combined with the waiter’s syrupy, faux-sweet demeanor as he gave me the boot sent me over the edge, and I lost it.  I screamed in frustration at being humiliated like this.  I smashed my champagne flute on the floor, snatched up my roses and made for the door.  The waiter stopped me.  “You’re going to have to pay for that, you know,” he spat as he clamped onto my arm like a vise.  I yanked free of his grasp, my eyes flaming.  “Put it on his credit card!” I snarled.

            My eyes cloud at the embarrassing memory.  I can’t believe he abandoned me on Valentine’s Day.  I get to the bus stop with my head hung low, sniffling like a child.  I lean against a nearby pole and close my eyes.  I just want to go home and forget this horrible day.  After a couple minutes, I feel a finger lift my chin.  I raise my eyes…and it’s him.  My first instinct is to slap him across the face, but instead I throw my arms around him and squeeze as hard as I can.  “Jordan,” I whisper.  “I didn’t think you were going to come.”  The tears glittering in his eyes are enough apology for me.

            He takes my hand in his and we begin walking back up the street.  As we get closer to our restaurant, he looks at me inquisitively.  I’m not hungry anymore, plus I’m sure I’ve been banned for my little display.  I shake my head no, but he’s looking past me.  I follow his gaze.  He’s staring at the roses I destroyed.  I feel a tinge of regret and I bend to pick up the card that was attached to the bouquet.  My heart warms as I read the message.  “Paige.  I will love you now and forever.  You will always be a part of me.  Love, Jordan.”

            We walk around town for hours, hand in hand.  When I talk, he listens, but mostly we just wander and enjoy being together.  My feet ache in my expensive new shoes, but I don’t pay them any mind.  He stops and picks me some flowers that are growing on the side of the road.  The night begins to fade into dawn.  My heart begins to pound as pink streaks the sky.  I hadn’t realized how late it was.  I lean in for one more kiss before we walk him home.  He strokes my cheek and pulls me into his arms.  Before he goes, he murmurs two words into my hair.  “Be good.”

            My teardrops splash the stone as I trace the engraving on the grave marker.  “Jordan.  Loving son & fiancé.  Died February 14^th, 2009” I’ll never forget that day.  I twist my engagement ring as the memories come flooding back to me.  I was waiting for him at our restaurant when I got the call about the accident, and my entire world came crashing down around me.

            I lay my flowers at the base of the headstone.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby.  You will always be a part of me.”  I say quietly.  As I walk away, I finger the flower card in my pocket.  I pull it out to read it again.  The writing on the card is identical to mine...just like last year.