“Sara,” she huffs, like she’s explaining something to a child, “it’s Valentine’s Day.”
The words land with a dull thud.I blink, realization washing over me.I haven’t celebrated Valentine’s Day since the incident.
I sniff.“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well,” Sydney takes a breath, then stands and wrinkles her nose dramatically, “thefirstthing you need to do is take a shower.”
“Hey!”
“Trust me,” she says matter-of-factly.“Take a long shower.Maybe a bubble bath.Pamper yourself.Then we’ll decide the next step.”
I manage a small smile.“Bossy.”
“You love it.”She gives me a tight squeeze, and I can’t help but lean into her comfort.
“Thanks, Syd.”I sniff, wiping the tears that escape down my cheeks.
“Always.”
Thirty minutes later, I emerge from my room like a new woman.My hair is washed and dried, my skin feels baby soft, and I’m starting to think Sydneydoesknow what she’s talking about.
“Okay,” I say plopping down next to her on the couch.“What’s next?”
“Well, now we realign your crystals.”
“I don’t have any crystals,” I deadpan.
“Wrong.”She pulls a purple velvet sachet from her bag.“You have crystals.”She hands me the bag, looking at me like I should know what to do with it.“Now you need to imbue it with your energy.Take them out, and just hold on to them for a few minutes.”
I follow her instructions and hold the crystals to my chest, squeezing them a bit harder than necessary.I channel all my positive energy into the vibrant rocks and silently pray that, by some miracle, they will transform my love life.
16
DAVE
Istare at the red heart circled on my rotation schedule on the fridge.
Saturday, February Fourteenth.
Valentine’s Day.
Two days since I left her house in shame.
I’m surprised Sue hasn’t called the neighborhood watch on me for the number of times I’ve walked back and forth in front of Sara’s house.
I messed everything up.If only I had told her the first time I delivered… but then, would she have talked to me like she had been, or would she have put me in the neighbor box, and we never would have connected the same way?At least, that’s what I’m telling myself to ease the guilt.
The vibration of my phone on the kitchen counter snaps me out of my self-pity fest.It’s a DoorDash order request… from Sara.I rub my eyes, trying to convince myself that it’s not playing tricks on me.
At first, I focus on the order request: flowers, chocolate, and one of those ridiculously huge stuffed animals you win at the state fair.My stomach twists.She’s buying herself flowers?And chocolate?On Valentine’s Day?
No.Absolutely not.And then I spot the note: “This is Sydney, fix it!”
Without a second thought, I accept the order.Sydney is throwing me a lifeline, and I intend to take it.
I head to the local florist first, grabbing a small vase of fresh peonies, carefully choosing the brightest reds and pinks I can find.Then I stop by the chocolate shop and pick up the largest heart-shaped box I can carry without knocking someone over.The stuffed bear sitting in my passenger seat almost looks like a person.
The closer I get to her house, my nerves get the better of me, and instead of pulling up to her place, I park at my own house.I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves—what’s the worst that can happen?She slams her door in my face and I make a second walk of shame back to my house.This time—with a giant stuffed bear.Definitely not embarrassing at all.
