Valentine's Day: Part II

I learned five things about Astrid that night.

First of all, Alcohol was her means of fixing silence and racing thoughts.

I half listened to the movie playing in the background and half focused on her hand in my own. Her fingers were terribly tiny and long: piano fingers. I wanted to ask if she played, but I knew better than to do so. Looking over, Astrid’s eyes were closed but she wasn’t asleep. Her face was pinched, as if she was fighting away the memories she wanted to leave behind. My mind traveled to her lips, and it was all I could do not to lean down and kiss her… The alcohol was pushing me to take a risk but the cold kept me sober enough to resist.
“It’s too quiet,” Astrid shot up and immediately grabbed for her flask that was flung aside.
Once she was safely tipsy, I found her intense hatred for romance.

“So, if it’s Valentine’s Day, or some special day, or whatever tonight is, shouldn’t there be some celebration besides champagne?”

Astrid looked at me, confused. “You mean like… gin? I already said I don’t like wine, we have vodka, and I’m sorry but I’m not into weed…”

“No! Like chocolate and flowers and candles and other unnecessary cliché items.”

“You were totally the kid who walked around on Valentine’s Day with a giant teddy bear from your boyfriend, weren’t you?”

I scoffed, refusing to answer with an obvious no.

“Your silence is a confirmation of that fact. But, those things are a waste of space. Why spend money on flowers? The smell terrible and die. Chocolate? That’s what you buy for a break up, not a romantic gesture. Candles? Well that’s just not feasible here.”

“Then how are we celebrating?”

She smiled, leading me to the third fact: Astrid is a bit of an exhibitionist.

"Like this,” she answered, taking my face in her hands.

Her lips tasted like peppermint chapstick doused in alcohol. Oddly, I didn’t mind it. Her kisses were fervent, as if she had no intentions of stopping; this was confirmed by her wondering hands.

“Um…” I pulled away and gestured toward the crowd of people… children… grandparents… preachers…

“Oh, like they care!”

I rolled my eyes and couldn’t help but fall back into her kiss.

When Astrid finally pulled away, I was met with the fourth fact: she was a very happy drunk.

“It really is turning out to be a wonderful kind of special night,” she said nestling onto my shoulder.

“Did you plan for this night to be special?”

“You can’t plan special. That’s why it’s, you know, special and all. But tonight seemed like a Valentine’s Day kind of night. You know, all lovey and gushy and that sort of shit. Maybe I was just influenced by the movie.”

“Astrid, you know this is a zombie movie, right?”

“Oh,” a champagne giggle bubbled up from her lips in an intoxicating manner. I leaned in once again and fell victim to her touch.

Perhaps I was a bit tipsy and a bit promiscuous. Regardless of my blood alcohol level, resisting Astrid was near impossible.

The final thing I learned that night came in the form of a confession.

People were filing out of the field as the end credits began to play. Astrid and I, however, didn’t budge. With a blink, I found the sun threatening to rise over the deserted field. Dead asleep, I kissed Astrid on the forehead. Slowly, she began to stir. Looking up at me with hazy eyes, she smiled in a way so pure and simple that it seemed we would be trapped in that moment for ages. I wouldn’t complain, though, I found something calming about the way we were strung together.

“I have to admit something…” her voice was tired but hopeful.

“Yes?”

“I think I might possibly love you,” she smiled that simple smile again, turned around, and fell back to sleep.