Happy Annivalentine's Day

Saturday, February 12, 2011

“Hello?” I asked, bewildered. “Hello?”

I rarely answered phone calls from numbers I didn’t recognize but as I am applying to jobs, I figure it could be a call for an interview. But on a Saturday? I was having lunch with my mom, Nick and my sister-in-law, Larissa, Lucas’ wife at Carrabas. After going to my nephew’s, Christopher, birthday party at Laser Quest with 18 people squeezed into a room the size of a bathroom, I desperately needed this glass of wine. I could still hear the children’s voices screaming at the top of their lungs ringing in my ears. I am not in the mood to charm any potential employer right now. I wanted wine.

“Uh, ya. Miss? May I speak to Christina Ferraz?” a man asked.

“This is she,” I say getting more concerned when I realize that not only did I not recognize the man’s voice but he barely spoke English.

“I have a flower delivery for you,” he said.

I can feel my heart freeze and my blood gushes through my veins, cold. Flowers?

“Where should I put them?” he asked.

I tell him to put them on the driveway and that I would be home shortly. She sent me flowers? I get home and see a bouquet of roses waiting alone on my driveway. I eye them cautiously. Are you kidding me? Flowers? It’s not like she ever gave me flowers before. I pick them up silently and walk inside my house. I can feel my mom’s eyes on me. I put the bouquet of roses on the kitchen counter and walk away without a word or a second glance. I return ten minutes later to take the card from the bouquet. I didn’t want any prying eyes reading my card.

I scan the card quickly. Ugh.

The card reads:

“I carry your heart with me. I carry it in my heart,” E.E. Cummings.

Happy Annivalentine’s Day. I love you.

I loved that poem and she knew it. Happy Annivalentine’s Day? What about any of this was happy? We aren’t even together so what exactly are we celebrating? How dare she send me flowers! Were they supposed to fix everything? Were the flowers supposed to whisper apologies and sweet nothings in my ear? Why the hell would I want flowers? I wanted to completely forget about our anniversary and Valentine’s Day. I was infuriated.

I spent an hour weighing my options and deciding on my response. If she thought I was going to be impressed or even touched by her flower delivery, she had better think again. I laughed. It was comical. She really thought everything was okay and that I would take her back with open arms. Absolutely not. She is going to work and work hard to have me. On what planet was she living on? Exactly what did she expect my response to be? We hadn’t spoken since her ‘happy anniversary’ text. We still had not spoken on the phone since she had left me in Houston.

6:51 p.m.

I just received your flowers. Thank you very much. I appreciate it.

I really didn’t know what else to say. It’s not like we regularly bought each other flowers for holidays. We believed that Valentine’s Day was every day so we never really celebrated the holiday more than a nice dinner. We spoiled each other on a daily basis. We loved like every day was Valentine’s Day. I sure as hell was not spending a penny on her. It’s not like I ended the relationship. I have nothing to prove. She was going to have to grovel, worship the ground my Louboutins walked on and then convince me that she was worthy of me. Nothing less was good enough to make me decide that she was worth my time. In my mind, she is nothing more than a bed buddy. I don’t care to talk to her every day, Skype with her every night and make trips to see one another every month. I’ll see her when my schedule allows and I feel like seeing her. When I feel like being sexed, I’ll call her and we will set a date to see each other. I have the upper hand now. I call the shots and she knows it.

For some reason, she loves it when I’m mad. It’s a side that I rarely show. I’m not an easily bothered person so it takes a lot to make me angry. She loves it when I yell and get mad at her. She gets excited by loudness of my voice, the intensity of my tone and the passion that pours out of me as I completely unleash my rage upon her. Congratulations, sweetheart. You have now made me more pissed off than I have ever been in my life. You have pissed me off before but that was flicker of a flame compared to the roaring fire I feel burning within me now.

Heav'n has no Rage, like Love to Hatred turn'd,
Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.

Hell may have no fury like a woman scorned, but absolutely nothing compares to a Latin woman scorned. Hell doesn’t even begin to describe it.

I simmer. I yell at her in my head. I simmer some more. She really had some nerve. What the hell would I do with flowers and why did she think that I would even want them? I didn’t need her pity. I think about cutting them up and giving them to my mom to use as mulch for her garden.

Almost three hours pass without a response.

I look at the card again. Oh shit. She said she loved me. I sigh. Dammit! That’s why she never answered me. Do I care? No, but she did spend money on trying to make me happy. I sigh again. Dammit!

9:38 p.m.

I love you, too

9:39 p.m.

I’m glad you got it. Happy early Valentine’s

I don’t say anything else. Really, nothing else came to mind.