Valentine's Day

Two years ago today Eric picked me up to walk across the street to the coffee house, 49 West, in Annapolis. He had just flown in from Virgina. A waltz party was going on at St. John's that gave him reason to come back early and ask me to the dance, since we'd been taking swing lessons on Tuesday nights in the little back stage room on St. J's campus. I suppose we wouldn't have gone to the dance if my answer had been different that night.

After all, the new semester marked the turn of the year in which we had barely begun to be simply friends. We got back from Christmas break wanting to renew an old aquaintance, go out to a movie in the greyness of winter, and found out that we already frequented Barnes and Noble to study, and it would be lovely to get our mutual friends over there at the same time. Meanwhile, we're both thinking of other possibilities; but one can hardly be expected to say yes to a man after two dinner conversations and a few stolen side long glances at him over oceanographic equations.

I found myself faced with his question over a small cup of strong coffee, warming my fingers, while the rest of the drafty ailse was cold. His words were diplomatic ambassadors from his heart to my head. I felt necessity impelled me to explain a few things; I didn't think he could really be serious if he really knew me; and here was a man not to be messed with. His reply encompassed my fears round about and drew them into a kerchief as on a stick to be carried on his back and taken up together at a right time some time down the road. The undertaking he proposed, to gain my affection through the proving of his own for me, seemed unlikely, but desireable. Thus, his words met their mark and mine echoed, yes, I'd like that, too.