BE MINE

February 14^th – Valentine’s Day. It had started off like any other day. I went to work, and listened to everyone else talk about their plans for the evening. Sarah would only allow her boyfriend take her to a five-star restaurant, or else she was going to dump him. George planned an extravagant proposal to his girlfriend of three weeks in some upscale Mexican restaurant. He had already hired a mariachi band and singer. Susan and her husband decided to forego dinner for a weekend trip down south, where she said the heat wouldn’t be coming from outside. Violet’s husband had snagged tickets to Hamilton, followed by a night at the Ritz Carleton. Et cetera, et cetera. It was like a game of one-upmanship to see who had arranged the most romantic Valentine’s Day. Apparently, every single person in the office had big plans…save one.

Me, oh well… I played along. Being in my late twenties, it was inconceivable that I wouldn’t have plans. So, I made up some extravagant tale about a horse and buggy ride through the park, dinner on a private terrace, and dancing under the stars.  Receiving lots of “ooohs” and “aaahs” around the water cooler, I pretended to be embarrassed when the questions started rolling. “Tell us about the lucky fellow” was the trigger that had me suddenly remember an urgent matter I had to handle, leaving the rumor mill swirling. 

Truth be told, I had a dinner date with a Banquet Salisbury Steak, a classic, followed by Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy, before finding a schmaltzy movie on the boob tube.  I was well prepared, having bought the frozen dinner yesterday, along with two boxes of tissues. Scanning the TV guide, I had already decided to watch House of Sand and Fog. If that didn’t do the trick, Brian’s Song was also on. I had seen that one a gazillion times, but it always brought me to tears. Me, myself, and I were ready for a glorious Valentine’s Day evening. I was looking forward to it about as much as my next dental appointment.

It was just after 6 pm when I arrived home for the evening. I changed into my pajamas, put on my fuzzy slippers and matching robe, and donned one of those gooey facemasks that was supposed to make me look like Eva Longoria. Green-faced, but comfortable in my “casual” clothes, I then went into the kitchen to prepare my romantic dinner for one. 

Following the directions printed on the box, in just over ten minutes, my glorified hamburger was ready. The first bite wasn’t too bad, if you immediately washed it down with a few sips of red wine. A $10 bottle of cabernet was my choix du jour.  They don’t print these instructions on the box, but fermented grapes are absolutely essential if you want to finish a feast in a cardboard box. Without the vino, my dinner tasted like mouthfuls of sand.

By now, you are probably thinking I lead a pretty boring life. Yeah, well…maybe. But little did I know, that was about to change. I was lazing about, eating my frozen meal, and drinking some boozy cab, when my doorbell rang. Mind you, I wasn’t expecting anyone. I peered out the window just in time to see the UPS delivery truck depart. 

A package! I wonder who sent me a package!

Excited, I opened the door. First, just a crack, to see if any of my neighbors were about. It wouldn’t do for them to see me in such a state, especially on this evening. Of the neighbors that I know by name, most already feel sorry for me. If they saw me like this, robed and masked, it would only add fuel to the fire. 

There was almost an unwritten law:

“Thou Shalt Not Sit Alone In Front Of The TV On Valentine’s Day…

Especially If Young And Single!”

No one was in sight, so I stepped outside and onto my porch. Unexpectedly, Billy Porter and his buddy - Jerome somebody - suddenly rounded the corner on their bikes. Two thirteen-year-old neighborhood terrors. Of course they saw me. I could hear their derisive laughter fade as they rode down the block. So much for not adding to the neighborhood whisper network.

I scowled, which caused the now-dried goop on my face to crack. Oh well. My attention reverted to the package. It was too small to contain a major appliance, yet too large for the crown jewels. I had no idea. I brought it into my house, closed and locked my front door, and ran to the bathroom to wash the beauty-creating gunk off my face. 

Nope, Eva Longoria I still ain’t, was my thought as I dried off and looked in the mirror. I shrugged and went back into the living room, anxious to see what some, as yet unknown, person had sent me.

A plain, brown corrugated cardboard box was used for shipping - notably non-descript. Only a single label was adhered to the top. It was addressed to---WHOA!  

Belle Carter

162 Primrose Drive

Whisperwood, USA

"What the….?"

OK, someone has made a major mistake. I don’t know anyone named Belle Carter, don’t know where Primrose Drive is, or where Whisperwood, USA might be. No state! I googled the town with no luck. It didn’t appear to exist. There was no indication of the sender, either. Why on earth did the UPS driver deliver the box here? I live on Corona Avenue, in Valley Stream, NY. OK, I do reside in the US. Yippee! UPS got the country right!

Hmmm-this really was a mystery. Why me? Why my doorstep? I was at a complete loss. But what I should have done was clear, even to me. Obviously, I should have returned the box to UPS and let them deal with it. I wasn’t responsible for this. They had to have a record in their tracking system to determine from where the box originated. Maybe even the name of the sender.

Yup. That is definitely what I should have done.

But, the more I thought about it, I pictured UPS just discarding the box. Would they really investigate – spend all that time and energy to find some person, just to return a package? I decided the box would probably end up in some incinerator. Nobody caring. Rather cynical of me, but there you have it. 

I decided to see what was in the box. The contents might be worth something, I rationalized. It wasn’t just curiosity – it was almost my duty to open it. What if it was an original Picasso, or one of Shakespeare’s plays? I mean, I read how Rembrandt’s painting, The Storm on the Sea of Galilee, was missing. And hundreds of other masterpieces have been absconded over the centuries. Who knows where they might be? And Shakespeare’s plays – there are people who think the Rosicrucian, led by Sir Francis Bacon, may have hidden some of them in Nova Scotia. So many priceless artifacts just floating around the earth. No one knows where. I couldn’t let these masterpieces be destroyed. So, I had to find out what lay inside the brown package. I was obligated, for history’s sake. Even if it was only a small chance that the box contained a Van Gogh. 

I retrieved a pair of scissors from the kitchen catch-all drawer and cut through the tape encircling the box, careful not to damage any priceless artifact that might be hiding within. Ever so slowly, I started to open the flaps at the top of the box. As I was about to peer inside, the phone rang. UGH. Not wanting to rush discovery, I went to answer the call.

“Hello, Jane speaking.”

“Hi, Jane. This is CiCi Porter. You know – Billy’s mom.”

“Yes. Hi Mrs. Porter. What can I do for you?”

“Well…I hate to disturb you – especially seeing as it is Valentine’s Day. I’m sure you must have plans, being young and single. But, well, Billy came home just a few minutes ago. He said you were all green and stuff – that you didn’t look at all well. I was just calling to check on you, dear. Is everything all right?”

That thirteen-year-old imp! He couldn’t resist making trouble! Acting like he was doing a good deed. Grr.

“I am fine, Mrs. Porter. No need to worry.”

“Really? Please, if you are under the weather, I’m happy to bring you some homemade chicken soup. I made some for Billy and his friend to have this evening. My husband, Trevor, and I are just about to head out for our romantic Valentine’s dinner. It would be no trouble to swing by.”

“Mrs. Porter. I appreciate the offer, but really, I am fine. I’m sure your son meant well. As I recall he and another boy went racing by on their bicycles a little while ago. I waved from my porch, but I don’t think they saw me,” I fibbed. “As a matter of fact, I have plans myself for this evening. Please, it’s kind of you, but don’t trouble yourself any further.”

“All righty, then. I’m glad to hear that you aren’t ill. Enjoy your romantic evening! Toodles.”

“Yes. Toodles…” As I hung up the phone, I was a tad bit remorseful, just a tad.

OK, so that sounded a bit mocking. CiCi’s a busybody. Everyone knows it. But she means well. And her kid – I’m gonna wring his neck if I see him around here again!

Interlude ended; I returned to the box. My heart was pounding, the palpitations erupting in my chest. I was imagining all sorts of treasures that could be sitting in my living room as we speak. I opened the flaps of the box and reached my hand inside.

“UGH. No way!” I turned the box on its side, and shook it. Not a sound, not the rustle of a single piece of paper. The darn box was empty. Completely empty. Now who would pay to ship an empty box? It made no sense.

Disgusted, I tossed the box aside and stood, planning to return to my delectable banquet. That’s when I saw it. Under the couch - a fur ball. It was shaking.

“What in the world?” I was afraid to get too close, not knowing what had taken up residence in my living room. One of those toys that roll around and shake? Or an exotic animal? Was it dangerous? I knew it had to have come from the box, but what was it? 

I sat watching from a distance, just waiting, scarcely moving. Slowly, the fur ball began to unfurl. That’s when I met my Valentine’s Day surprise! A little puppy! He was probably as scared as I was, and wouldn’t stop shaking for quite some time. But when he poked his head out from under the couch, I smiled. He was the cutest little thing!

Little by little, he inched forward until he was no longer in hiding. He was still wary, and wouldn’t take his eyes off of me. I eventually got up and brought a bowl filled with water from my kitchen. I put the rest of my uneaten Salisbury steak in another bowl and brought it out. “Here you go, little fella.”

The hungry pup soon scoffed down the chopped steak, and followed it with big swigs of water. Losing his shyness, he looked at me with those big puppy eyes, tail wagging. He’s grateful, I could tell.

He crawled into my lap, as I cooed and petted him. The thing couldn’t be more than 5 pounds. And so adorable. I had tears in my eyes – unsolicited by any movie. 

“I don’t care where you came from, little fella. You’re home now. Sorry, Bella from wherever, USA. He’s mine now.”

He seemed to like my voice, so I kept talking. “You are the cutest little puppy ever. Hey, we need to find you a real name. Don’t you think? I can’t keep calling you little fella.”

After trying out a few names, I found one that seemed to fit. “Ollie – how about that one?” Ollie let out a joyful sounding yelp – the first sound he had made.

Little Ollie. I loved the name. It just rolled off my tongue.  After a few minutes, Ollie got used to hearing his new name. He would jump up and yelp every time I said, “Ollie.” 

We spent the rest of the night talking and playing. There were no sad movies showing on my TV this year. I laughed and danced with Ollie in my arms. I took Ollie for several walks around the neighborhood, under the moon and stars. It was a magical evening. At night, I tucked him into bed next to me.

It was the perfect Valentine’s Day! I can't wait until I tell the office gossips about my new fellow!