Love Always

With a flick of his wrist, Greg unfurled the tablecloth and smoothed it down. He set out two placemats and their finest cutlery. A bottle of wine sat in an ice bucket to the side, with two glasses gleaming in the candlelight, and in the centre of the table, he placed a vase with a single red rose. Her favourite. He stood back and surveyed his work, checking it was everything it should be. Everything she’d want.

February 14^th had rolled around much faster than he was expecting. The one day of the year to cause him so much angst. It seemed like only yesterday he had been arguing with his wife Karen about yet another failed Valentine’s Day on his behalf. What did she expect though? He had never been the most romantic of men, and he’d never kept it a secret. Even on their first date he’d shown up empty-handed, with a shrug and a smile, saying “No frills with me, babe, sorry.” At first, she had found it endearing, but over the years it had become a bone of contention between them.

You see, Karen was a heart-on-her-sleeve romantic. She believed in showering everyone with love and affection all through the year, but especially on Valentine’s Day. In her eyes, it was a day to be celebrated and cherished, and she always went to such pains to make it memorable.

Every year, it was the same. She’d gleefully hand over the gift she’d spent hours searching for and wrapping with care, only to be met with a chuckle and a “You know I don’t remember this stuff, babe.” Each time he’d watch her heart break a little more, and each time he’d die a little inside for causing that sparkle in her eyes to dim.

It’s not that he wanted to be an arse, he just never saw the need to buy into it all. Why only show your loved ones you love them on that one day? Didn’t he show her enough by marrying her and providing a comfortable life? Didn’t he show her by choosing her to be by his side each and every day of his life? Why did he have to make a big song and dance about it all? It just wasn’t his style.

Of course, she never expected him to shower her with jewellery or expensive gifts. He knew she’d have been happy with a simple flower from the garden or a love note left on the kitchen bench. But he couldn’t even muster that small effort once a year to show her he was thinking of her. Instead, he’d huff about the conglomerate corporations making bank on a day they’d deemed the day of love. He didn’t need to buy her gifts or tell her how he felt just because they told him to. She knew he loved her. Didn’t she?

He shook his head. She had to have known. She couldn’t have gone without knowing how he truly felt about her.

The unwanted flashbacks bounced around in his head, a constant reminder of the day that would be forever seared into his brain.

The day he wished to God he could go back and do-over.

February 14^th, 2020. It had started like every Valentine’s Day; with Karen rolling over and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day, my love.” And then she’d pulled a parcel out from behind her back. “Open it,” she’d said with a grin.

It was a first edition copy of his favourite childhood book, Peter Rabbit. “Wow, that must’ve cost a pretty penny,” he’d said, flicking through the pages.

“You’re worth every penny, my love.”

He’d placed it on the nightstand, a gruff “thanks” said as he sat up. He didn’t miss the look in her eyes as he swung his legs around to get up. “Sorry, babe. I didn’t get you anything. You know how it is. I’d forget my birthday if you weren’t here to remind me.” He’d laughed, avoiding her eyes while he tied his robe.

She’d rolled onto her back, her hands clasped across her belly as she stared at the ceiling.

“I’ll try and remember next year, eh? Maybe I’ll surprise you one of these days.”

She didn’t say a word. Not a single thing as she’d dragged herself out of bed. He’d watched as she donned her yoga pants and runners. He’d stood by as she pulled her hair up into a messy bun before grabbing her phone and earbuds. And even though he knew she was upset, she’d still placed a hand to his chest, going up on tippy-toes to press a kiss to his lips. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” she’d whispered as she stepped out the door for the last time.

When the cops had knocked on his door an hour later, he’d dropped to his knees, a keening noise forcing its way out through the lips she’d kissed only that morning. They’d told him a car had taken the corner too fast, right at the same time she was crossing the road. It had been quick, they’d said. She wouldn’t have felt any pain. But he knew. He knew that though she might not have felt pain from the impact of the car breaking every bone of her body, she was still in pain. Pain that he had caused because he couldn’t take the time to show her on that one day that meant so much to her, that he loved her too.

He placed her urn in the spot opposite him, along with the silver frame they’d been given as a wedding gift. Her beautiful smiling face shining out at him from beneath her veil as she stood proudly by his side on what was the happiest day of his life. Yet another thing he’d neglected to let her in on. His hands gripped the back of the chair as he stared at the photo before he took a deep breath and sat down, wishing he could hold her hand once more. “I’m sorry I never made the effort when you were here to appreciate it, babe, but this one’s for you.” His eyes welled up as he held his wine glass in the air. “I love you, babe. Always have and always will.”