The last valentine

In the weeks since that Sunday afternoon at the Tiki Bar, "K" and I had become closer and more than just friends. While remaining discreet and professional at work, the two of us were growing much fonder of each other. The time we spent together slowly moved away from two platonic co-workers and more towards two young adults enjoying the company of one another. Going out for dinner, or drinks, or a movie became more frequent. We started to choose places a little off the beaten path, seeking out privacy and avoiding the normal haunts where running into friends meant a group evening. As time went on, we had a standing Sunday 2:00pm date at that Tiki Bar. It was the first time we would attach the word date to anything we did, eschewing the phrase go out that we had used so often in the past. Those moments were filled with laughter at funny stories, and deep discussions about our goals and futures. We'd gaze intently at each other, hold hands, and play a flirty game of footsies under the table after one too many daiquiri's. As sun went down on those Sunday evenings, a kiss goodnight became something more than a peck on the cheek. The more we saw each other, the longer those goodbyes would linger on with a mutual closeness and growing attraction.

As the calendar turned to February, my thoughts turned to Valentine's Day. I had never had someone who I felt deeply about in my life to share the holiday, and I wanted it to be special. It should be simple yet significant I believed. A day filled with words and small gestures at work and a memorable evening to show "K" how important she had become to me. I picked her up for work in the morning bearing a single, purple rose. The uniqueness of the color set it aside from the more prevalent red, pink, or white roses. I wasn't sure if her reaction was more surprised or touched by the gesture. We had been keeping things quiet and discreet at the office, so anything I may have wanted to do there would be low key. It was the simple gesture of hiding a package of her beloved Fig Newtons in her top desk drawer for her discovery upon returning from a meeting that brought yet another smile to her face. "K" was surely more touched than surprised.

With the General Manager out of town, we availed ourselves of the opportunity to sneak out of the office early in the afternoon. We drove down to the marina on Singer Island and walked amongst the docked boats, sharing stories of our days on the water, her in New England and me in Florida. Although the experiences were much different, that was one thing we shared, having the water in our lives from an early age. We walked, we talked, and eventually found our way to a park bench overlooking the inlet and watched the sun sink slowly over the horizon. "K" and I made our way across the island to the beach resort hotel. We started with a drink at what had become our place, the Tiki Bar. We continued our evening inside the posh hotel at their restaurant. It was a semi-upscale seafood establishment which served outrageously good food. On the salary that I was making at the time, it was somewhat pricey but both of us had enjoyed our less expensive lunch experiences there in the past. It was my chance to splurge for the first time on Valentine's Day, and I wasn't going to risk it on a place that either of us might not have liked. We ordered a bottle of wine and toasted each other in the candlelit corner booth while the entrees were being prepared. The soft light accentuating her green eyes, her long blond hair pulled back like she always wore it, and the naturalness and comfort I felt being around her was everything any man could ever hope to find in a woman.

We finished the last of the wine with dinner. The meal was exquisitely prepared and extraordinarily delicious. "K" always had a bit of a sweet tooth, so we shared a dessert to culminate a wonderful dining experience. While exiting the restaurant, "K" spontaneously decided she wanted to take a walk on the beach. It was a chilly evening, with a cool sea breeze blowing gently off the ocean. As we walked holding hands, the only sound that could be heard was the waves ripple as they met the shoreline. Moonlight bathed the beach and the stars shone overhead as the lights from the resort grew fainter as we strolled further down the coast. Spurred on from our bottle of wine, "K" let go of my hand and began to playfully run down the shore, looking back over her shoulder to make sure I was intent on chasing after her. She weaved and darted, changing directions to be just evasive enough to keep the game going for a time. Eventually, I chased her down and with my arms securely around her waist tackled her to the sandy beach. We laughed and giggled and gazed into each other eyes. We kissed, gently at first but as the passion grew so did our intensity. It was reminiscent of the famous scene from the classic From Here To Eternity.

We rolled around in the sand, going as far as any two people could without undressing. As the intensity ebbed, I was ready to invite her back to the resort where I had made a room reservation for Valentine's night. It was meant to be the first time we would "be together." As we lay on the beach and before I could reveal my final surprise, she said we needed to talk. It was then that she chose to tell me she wanted us to be just friends. A friendship that had grown into a relationship, a day that started with a single rose and grew to a crescendo of nearly sharing the ultimate display of closeness and passion, was dashed in a single, heartbreaking moment. I was in shock and could barely breathe and struggled to speak. I'm sure I uttered something incoherent about my hoping we could continue to be more but that we'd always be friends. For all the vivid memories of that day, I honestly can not recall anything I may have said.

We walked back to the car and I drove her the few short blocks back home. A short hug, but no kiss, on the doorstep and I was on my way home. I was numb the entire drive, my heart ripped wide open. The overnight bag stayed in the trunk, the hotel room remained unoccupied. We did stay friends for a while, but things were never the same after that night on the beach. Fourteen years ago, that was the first and last Valentine's Day I have ever celebrated.