My Valentine
Sometimes it’s better to spend the holiday alone.
It’s hard to believe a simple wink lead to all this trouble. I noticed him staring at me out of the corner of my eye. Both of us were feet apart, huddled against the concrete wall of the downtown Charlotte hotel trying desperately to find some shelter from the frigid wind whipping down the city street.
I was bundled up from head to toe in thick winter clothing. He was shivering in only his flight attendant uniform, which accentuated his fitness perfectly somehow. When both of us had almost finished our cigarettes, he turned and looked at me full on through his wire rim glasses and gave me a wink. Despite myself, I smiled and winked back.
I never do this, but it was Valentine’s Day and we were both alone in the city so why not? We would never see each other again, and even though I liked my solitude, being alone on Valentine’s Day did suck a little. I had a thing for blondes anyway.
He said his name was Tyler, and I know he was telling the truth because it matched the name tag on his uniform. I told him my name was Jeff. I’m not sure why, it’s not my real name nor is it a name I particularly care for. It always reminds me of Jiff and makes me think of peanut butter. Maybe my subconscious prompted the lie since my mouth was so dry and my tough felt thick from nervousness.
