Be My Valentine: Short Story Collection. Brigid Coady

girls in my year fancied, sometimes you, though I didn’t understand it.

       You grew up, filled out, but not before I did. Yes I teased you when I had curves and you were shooting up into a tall lanky beanpole with no muscles to speak of, but things changed quickly. Your muscles appeared, your voice deepened and when you were bed bound with mono for six weeks I missed you like mad. I missed your smile, your chatter, your laugh, the hundred tiny ways that you comforted me, though I’d never realised it.

       Then you rescued me from that octopus classmate at my year ten disco. You should have been at home revising for your exams but instead were looking out for me, hanging around the school hall in the summer air, knowing that the back of the bike sheds was the place used for furtive snogging.

       I was pinned awkwardly against corrugated metal and rusty screws trying to fend Darren Jenkins off when you arrived, wrenching him away from me and sending him off with a threatening look. Of course he wasn’t going to argue with a boy in the year above him, someone who by then was six feet tall with shoulders that seemed almost as broad.

       ‘Why did you do that?’ I shouted, embarrassed.

       ‘Because … ’

       ‘What?’

       Stepping near, you twirled one of my blonde curls round your finger, pulled me close, and kissed me.

       It was magical; the night air burned, fireworks sparked, a band struck up a tune and I was lost in you. It was the beginning of something beautiful.

       Lots of things have changed since then, but one thing hasn’t - you’re still my best friend.

       When I found the lump during my second year of teaching, I thought it was nothing to worry about, ignored it. You were working long hours and I pined for you, but I understood you were trying to build a career that would support the family we'd have one day. A few months of normal life passed; work, shopping, seeing friends and family, housework, going down the pub, thrashing you silly on the X-box. One evening in the bath, I realised the lump was still there, that I should have some tests done.

       I went to appointments alone because I didn’t want to worry you, but when they gave me the diagnosis, said it had already spread to other parts of my system, I shared it with you straight away. I still remember the way you held me so tightly, as if keeping all the parts of me pinned together.

       After the operations and treatments and tests and the difficult conversations with all the professionals, we’ve had to face facts. We don’t know exactly how many days or weeks I have left, but they don’t think I’ll make it to our annual New Year’s Eve party, our tradition.

       We’ve argued a lot recently. I love you so much that I’ve wanted to set you free. I don’t want to be an obligation or a burden. But you were determined to marry me. So here we are after a beautiful and fun-filled wedding day and long haul champagne-fuelled flight.

       When at home in our poky but cosy flat, I feel awful, weary right down to my bones. But here, things that should exhaust me - fishing trips, scuba diving, island hopping, making love, sitting on the prow of a sailing boat with dolphins jumping and dancing through the waves beneath us - make me feel energised, ready for anything.

       These are the moments that I know will remain with me, whether in this life or the next.

       We sat at the sticky bar tonight, in the balmy air, complimentary bright green grasshopper cocktails at our elbows. You asked me if I was happy and I said yes. I could have elaborated, but I want to put it down on paper so that you have a lasting record.

       So now I’ll elaborate Jake. Read carefully.

       Happiness is our honeymoon. We’re in paradise, but truthfully we could be anywhere; the dark wilds of Scotland, the untamed coast of Cornwall. We could be doing anything – train spotting, rambling, riding roller coasters – and the weather could be miserable. As long as I’m with you, it would be paradise. I would be happy because you’re the centre of my world. Like I’m the centre of yours.

       If you’re reading this I’m gone, and I know you’ll be devastated. But I want you to know how happy you’ve made me, what a good person you are, how much I’ve always laughed with you. You’ve helped me feel better about myself. Shown me I’m someone worth loving. And I want to thank you for all of that.

       I don’t want you to mourn what you've lost. Don't you dare sink into an abyss!I just won't put up with it. Please just try to appreciate what we shared, even if it’s been cut short.

       And in time, when it feels right, I want you to find someone else to love. I want you to give somebody else that incredible opportunity. If they do, they will be happy. You both will.

       I love you Jake. You deserve to have a long and happy life.

       Forever yours, Shelley xoxoxo xoxoxo xoxoxo

      Jake fought to breathe through waves of sadness and love and gratitude, distantly aware of something digging into his hip as he folded up the letter she'd written only forty eight short hours before her death.

      Her voice was clear again now.

      He missed her. God, how he missed her.

      ‘Everything okay?’ Lila asked, stepping out onto the balcony, looking uncharacteristically hesitant.

      ‘Hmm?’ Shoving the letter into his left pocket he looked up at her.

      She blew a stream of air out of pursed lips, ruffling her dark blunt fringe. ‘I asked if everything’s okay.’

      ‘Let's go to dinner.' He stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape.

      'Jake …' Dropping into one of the other chairs she gripped the arms, fingers white. 'Don't keep me waiting until dinner. Tell me now. Please. Are you ending it?' She paused briefly as he sank back down into his own seat. 'You still miss her, don't you? And love her. It's okay. I understand.'

      The strap of the funky pink sundress slipped off her tanned shoulder as she shrugged. It drew Jake's eyes to the tiny freckles dotted along her collarbone, an adorable sprinkling that he’d counted a thousand times in their last year and a half together. It was something he'd started doing after the first time they'd made love. Along with, after a few weeks, always telling her to take care, and calling her at the end of every journey to check she'd arrived safely and buying her a book she'd love at least once a month. They had traipsed around shops, attended concerts, enjoyed dinners with friends, watched movies at the cinema, celebrated Valentine's day and birthdays and Christmases, moaned about their jobs, laughed at the absurdities of life, supported each other through rubbish moments, spent nights at his place and at hers.

      'Jake?' Grabbing his wine she gulped back several large mouthfuls even though she preferred rosé.

      'This isn't fair on you Li.' His pet name for her. 'I care about you too much-'

      'I'll wait!' She said desperately, voice shaking. 'We're good together.'

      'I know.' He studied her straight nose, the beauty spot on her dewy cheekbone. Lila and Shelley couldn’t be more different; in appearance, in mannerisms, in interests and professions. But at core they were similar. Loving and clever and kind and impossibly stubborn at times. They both made him laugh. 'But it isn't right, to expect you to keep waiting.'

      'I won't wait forever, that's true.' She nodded, sucking in a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, large blue eyes determined. 'But I love you, so I can hang in a bit longer.'

      His fingers curled into his pocket, rubbing over the letter, seeking reassurance from Shelley’s words. The feeling of guilt didn’t surface. She'd wanted him to be happy. She'd told him. It was what he thought he'd remembered, but he'd