My Valentine

Twenty-Seven

Nightengale Phillips

The tremor in his hand was barely noticeable, but I knew every inch of his body well enough to tell when it wasn’t at its best.

I vaguely recalled him telling me of Parkinson’s Disease and his nervous system’s gradual deterioration.

Some women in my position would have hoped that the deterioration wasn’t gradual and that the disease would just immediately consume his body, but even though he’d broken my heart, worry and compassion still swelled up in my bleeding spirit.

 
I was still wallowing in the image of the two adults I’d seen in an affectionate embrace the other night.  I’d only ever dated two guys before Marshall, but this had to hurt the most.

Unlike my previous boyfriends, I’d actually seen a future with Marshall. I sometimes imagined that we could keep our relationship a secret until it was safe for us to reveal how we really felt about each other to the entire world. I’d give him his biological children and we’d happily grow old together.

Old age would get the best of him before it did me, but there would have had to be couples just like us. I would love him until he was old and withered.

 
Right now, the only thing that would wither was my heart whenever I saw he and his wife together.

He helped my mother set the table when he and Brooklyn came over. For the first time in weeks, there was no Lisa.

It put bitter and jealous feelings in me whenever I thought of her now. At first, it had just been feelings of insecurity, but after he’d chosen her over me, I started having dark feelings that I knew weren’t healthy for me.

How could one failed relationship have such a huge impact on a person? Marshall and I hadn’t even been together that long.

Maybe it just highlighted my immaturity and just how much I hadn’t been ready for a relationship with an adult.
I absently stared at my food, willing myself not to look at him.

The man had been sitting right across from me for at least fifteen minutes and he made his staring obvious, whilst I was still trying to remain calm under his heated gaze.

If I didn’t, I would have surely lashed out. Did he really think I was that naïve?

He thought he could make me feel like shit then run back into his arms as soon as he decided to care about me. He made his bed and I was finally trying to salvage the mess that as my own bed.

I was not going to become a victim.
There was a small, almost microscopic insect on the dinning table. Brooklyn had started fussing about it, but Marshall had silenced him, blaming it on restlessness.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that he was wrong. If I was being honest, I hadn’t said anything much to anyone since he came over.
He didn’t seem to have an issue with my silence. No one seemed to.

Our eyes came into contact once more. I looked away. He was being careless. Rhinestone was sitting right next to me. Surely, she would begin to become suspicious soon. Then again, my sister was looking down at her crotch an awful lot. No one else seemed to realize that she was tapping away on her phone.  Maybe they didn’t care. Dad had left home to go on a business trip earlier on in the day anyway.

“So, Stone, how’s the new apartment?”
I relaxed. Marshall had been kind enough to drag his attention away from me to look at my sister with much less smoldering intensity.

I had always suspected that Rhinestone had a crush on Mr. Valentine. She always got that sparkle in her eye when she was around him, or maybe it was just me imagining things.