A/N: I finally have enough written to publish the first part of my Valentine's Day story. I plan to have at least two more chapters of this, chronicling Jade's experiences with the holiday. A special thank you to ABEDFAN for always encouraging me and for coming up with the title of this series and this first chapter. You're the best my Matt!
The Chambers Of My Heart
Chapter One: Not Everyone Can Be Valentine
I was six years old when I discovered I hated Valentine's Day. Walking in on your dad and his secretary in a half naked embrace will do that to a person.
"Why do you have to ruin everything Jade?" I remember my father turning to look me in the eyes, as my mother was screaming at him to get his stuff and get the hell out of our lives.
"This is YOUR fault," he told me, pointing a finger in my tear-stained face. "You should've knocked," he stood up, grabbed his suitcase and walked out the front door without a backward glance.
I was always getting yelled at for forgetting to knock before I barged into any room, but especially his office. "I'm sorry," I mumble to his retreating back, and then look up at my mom. "I'm sorry Mommy."
"It's not your fault Jade," my mom mumbles, closing the front door and turning away from me. She refused to look me in the eyes. Even at six years old I knew she was lying. She started to walk towards the kitchen, and then stopped and turned to finally look at me, for the first time since I told her about what I had seen. "You really do need to remember to knock," she sighed quietly, turning and disappearing into the kitchen.
I was in sixth grade when my view on Valentine's Day started to change.
Up until that point, at home it had been a day of mourning. Of being reminded that I had ruined our family.
Luckily it was a bit different at school, because there it had just been another holiday classroom party, one that I even looked forward to. Not because I liked the decorations (seriously, all the different shades of pink associated with this holiday made my eyes want to vomit.)
It definitely wasn't having to deal with actually giving and receiving all those stupid, little, mass produced, nauseatingly cutesy cards.
Certainly not because of the theme- the whole concept of love was overrated after all. "Love is a lie Jade. It won't last. Never fool yourself into thinking otherwise." My mother made sure to drill that into my head the moment my dad walked out on us to be with his secretary. I've been hearing that mantra since I was six years old, so I could never grasp why in the world there was an actual holiday celebrating something that was obviously such a lie.
I looked forward to this party every year for two reasons. I loved seeing the repulsed looks of my fellow classmates as they saw my homemade "mailbox" for the valentines- an enlarged replica of a bloody human heart. I enjoyed the gasps of shock and dismay from the parents that chose to volunteer for the party as they saw my gory creation. I loved to stare at them, while tilting my head slightly to the side, meticulously cutting up the cards I received into tiny pieces, simultaneously enjoying their unease at my behavior and the sound of the scissor blades slicing together.
This year however, parents weren't allowed to attend the party. We had no mailboxes to put out of the desks. It was just a small platter of food up front and people placed cards on the desktop, while the movie Toy Story was playing on the tv. I had asked to use the restroom as soon as the movie started, and stayed in there looking at myself in the mirror, reapplying the black eyeliner I wore like a protective shield. I sighed, realizing if I stayed gone any longer I ran the risk of having my teacher send someone to look for me.
"Look at what I got Jadey!" Cat ran up to me as soon as I entered our classroom, eagerly shoving a flimsy piece of card stock into my hands. I close my eyes and sigh, having to consciously fight my natural reflex to tear the stupid thing to shreds. Instead, I open my eyes and see some dumb cartoon car with the words "You drive me crazy Valentine!" written on it, with the word Valentine underlined and flanked with some obviously hand drawn, crooked hearts in red ink.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?" I ask Cat, plopping down into my seat and tossing the card back into her lap after she sits down in the seat next to mine.
"It's personalized!" she squeals, picking it up again and gazing at it in wonder. "I mean, I know it comes from a boxed set, but look!" she taps her obnoxiously neon pink colored nail next to the poorly drawn hearts. "They underlined my name in it! Valentine-I'm Cat Valentine-and, and the pretty hearts. It's special!" she gushes, hugging it to her chest. "I just wish they would have put who it is from," she frowns slightly, gazing around the classroom.
I roll my eyes, but I can't completely stop the hint of a small smile forming at her cute reaction to getting a couple of stupid hearts drawn onto a cheap mass produced valentine. I've always just barely tolerated this holiday because I could display my love of (blood) red and the human heart (technically they are both part of the typical holiday decor. The color red and hearts. It's not MY fault if people tend to get squeamish at the sight of an actual replica of the human heart.) Another thing that I have come to appreciate about this holiday is that I tend to find lots of useless junk around that's just begging for my favorite sharpened scissor blades to slice through repeatedly.
Still, it's kind of nice to see how Cat genuinely enjoys this day. It almost makes me wish I was as innocently naive about love as Cat.
Almost.
"Did you get any good ones this year?" Cat asks me hopefully.
"You're looking at them," I say, gesturing to the small amount of paper confetti littering my desktop.
"You promised you wouldn't cut them up this year before you showed me!" Cat pouts, crossing her arms and slightly sticking out her bottom lip.
"There wasn't much to see," I shrug my shoulders and grab the biggest piece of paper I can find, and begin to methodically cut it into even smaller slivers. Cat didn't need to know that she was the only person who had given me a proper valentine since I was nine years old. Well, one that didn't include the words 'weirdo freak' or 'goth bitch' written on them anyway.
Cat picks at some of the make shift confetti sprinkled across my desktop and lets it fall thru her fingers. "Next year is going to be different Jadey," she says confidently, her bright smile returning.
"Oh yeah? And why's that?" I ask.
"Because next year we will be at Hollywood Arts!" Cat says rather loud, causing a few kids to look over at us and smirk. She blushes as I stick my tongue out at the group of kids smirking at us. She leans towards me and whispers. "We won't have to deal with these mean kids anymore."
"You're talking like we've already been accepted. Auditions to get in aren't even for another two months," I remind her.
"We'll get in," Cat says confidently.
"How can you be so sure?" I ask her. Honestly, I'm used to being the confident one. I'm used to being the one that is constantly reassuring Cat. I don't like that we seemed to have swapped places.
"Just trust me. Next year will be different. And better. Better different," Cat giggles, and then immediately sobers again, looking into my eyes, "I promise."
Later that night I went home to find my dad waiting for me. There was a woman I had never met standing next to him, holding a wiggly baby in her arms.
"Dad?" I couldn't believe it. I hadn't seen him in person for six years. I looked apprehensively at him, and then at the woman next to him holding the little boy. "What are you doing here?" I ask him, and before I can blink he's giving me a huge hug. I look at the baby who's currently blowing spit bubbles and giggling to himself over my dad's shoulder. I notice with a start that he has the same piercing blue eyes as me. The same eyes that I share with my dad.
He steps back, looks at the woman a moment, and then back at Jade. "It was time you meet your little brother Jade," he says.
My mouth drops open and I stare at my dad in shock. I slowly reach my arm out towards the baby, and his chubby little hand immediately wraps around a couple of my fingers.
Maybe Valentine's Day isn't the worst day of the year after all.
A/N: Virtual candy hearts to everyone who reviews.
