Raspberry Chocolates and Cheesy Cards

It’s a chilly evening; cold to the point I can see my own breath rising in the dim light of the street lights. The wind nips at the unprotected skin on the nape of my neck, prompting me to shift uncomfortably to try and conserve some warmth. There’s ice spread thinly on the sidewalk and I’m walking carefully, making sure not to slip and risk having to go to the hospital. My steps falter for a moment before I shake my head and huff a bit, a small smile on my face. I really am more cautious now, huh?

I pull my jacket a little tighter around me, a shiver running down my spine. The box of chocolates smushes harder against me and the part of my mind that isn’t frozen numb dimly hopes you won’t mind slightly squashed chocolates.

I exhale slowly, watching the steam quickly fade into the air before glancing down at my gloved fingers, or more specifically, the card trapped between them. I run my thumb over the lettering imprinted on the card. My grin grows as my finger traces across the familiar phrase, the one I say to you every year.

You tell me it’s cheesy and horrible, but if such a bad line can make your face light up like a Christmas tree every time, I’ll repeat it as many times as I need to. Besides, how could I ever forget about the line that started our journey together in the first place?

To be honest, I don’t know how you saw anything in me when I was a young, dumb teenager with no guts. A teenager who didn’t even have enough bravery to confess to someone in person.

It was the day before Valentine’s day.

I remember slipping the valentine card into your locker along with the plastic bag of Hershey chocolates I had bought with my part time job money. Then I was running from the scene, face flushed and already out of breath. I had chosen to wimp out and not confess to your face, knowing that I would have made a fool of myself. In my mind, I tried to justify it, asking myself who in their right mind would willingly date a blubbering mess that could barely ask someone out without tripping over every other word? My chances would be higher with a sweet note that I had time to think about without any pressure.

I remember spending the school time wondering about what your reaction would be. Worrying about how you might respond. I could barely focus in class, making simple mistakes and jumping anytime the teacher called my name. At one point, one of my teachers sent me to the infirmary. Apparently my scarlet red face had been mistaken for a possible fever. I did appreciate the ice pack that was given to me, though. It helped settle my nerves slightly.

I remember the moment when I finally saw you again. It was outside, near the entrance of the school where our peers were roaming about. Laughter and small talk filled the air; either teenagers complaining about their lack of plans for the upcoming Valentine’s Day or excitedly discussing gift and event ideas. I had my head down, kicking at the frosted tips of the stiff grass as I waited for my dad to pick me up when I spotted you. You were walking towards me with a rather confident march, my valentine card clutched in your hand. I could see the tip of a plastic bag peeking out of your bulging jacket pocket.

I remember the flash of adrenaline and panic that flashed through me. I was never the athletic one, but all of a sudden I was racing away at a speed that could rival the best of our track team. My breath was coming out in puffs, feet slipping on the slick ground as the edges of my vision blurred. I can’t exactly recall what I was thinking. All I know is that I panicked hard when I saw you walking towards me. That combined with my natural fear of confrontation had me running all the way back to my house where I was greeted by my very confused looking mom.

I remember spending the rest of the day pacing nervously in my room and wringing my hands. My pillows suffered great blows that day as I berated myself for running and not listening to what you had to say. By the early morning, my restlessness had finally worn off and been replaced by the resolve to face you tomorrow.

I remember forcing myself out of bed and dragging myself through my morning routines, boarding the bus just in time. I was torn between wanting to see you as soon as possible or delaying our meeting in any way I could.

I remember feeling relief and fear simultaneously as I saw you waiting by the school’s entrance, eyes scanning over the rows of students observantly. Well… maybe not fear exactly. More like anxiousness and nervousness being blended together and churned in my stomach. That feeling intensified ten fold when your eyes locked onto mine.

I remember fidgeting nervously as my mind bounced between directing my legs towards you or in the opposite direction. As a result, they stayed locked in place, allowing you to walk closer. Despite the cool weather, I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the hollow of my neck. Then you were in front of me.

And of course, I remember what happened next. The way you held out my card with a confidence that barely masked your own nervousness, although I didn’t notice your nerves at the time with all that blood pounding in my ears. When I finally focused enough, I re-read the line that had been part of the card I bought from the store.

You’re so sweet you could put Hershey’s out of business.

I had cringed a bit reading that, and rightfully so. The cheesiness of the line hadn’t particularly struck me as I was writing my heartfelt message below it, but now it was slamming into me with the impact of a bulldozer.

Then you were smiling softly at me, the same, sweet smile that had prompted me to choose that particular note in the first place.

“I prefer raspberry chocolates.”

I hadn’t responded, too busy trying to figure out the implications of your statement.

“You’ll remember that for our one year anniversary next Valentine’s day, right?”

My jaw dropped at your words and the pale blush on your cheeks. Even though I prided myself on being rather quick to pick up on things, it took me a good minute to fully process what you had said. By the time I understood, my socially awkward side decided it was their time to shine and I stammered a confused but enthusiastic agreement.

And then I ran again.

I shake my head thinking back on that awkward confession and acceptance on your part. It was a shame I never joined track, seeing as I could really run fast when I was embarrassed or my brain short circuited. I’m really glad you were, and still are, patient enough to put up with the slow turning cogs that ran my romantic side.

I look up again, spotting the silhouette of our house against the darkening sky. My hand squeezes the front of my jacket and I feel the warmth of the chocolates against my side. More expensive chocolates than from back then. Ones that I bought with my full time job, no longer a simple part time job I could halfheartedly work at.

I can’t wait for the look of bliss on your face when you eat them. I’m not the biggest fan of raspberry filling, but I’d eat as many of them as long as you’re the one feeding them to me.

The tips of my ears burn and the freezing dry air burns the skin of my cheeks as my smile stretches even further. 

With that wide grin plastered on my face, I speed up to a jog.