Valentine's Day Vignette

Valentine’s Day, 2049, TeeBurg, in what was once New York State

Jamian had a date.

He couldn’t… no, he could remember his last date. Dagny’s mother. That had been nearly two decades ago, two long and dry decades, interspersed with Tya’s random and generally-unpredictable visits.

The one time of year, however, that Tya would be completely regular about showing up (in all these years, she had missed once, and that had been due to massively extenuating circumstances), was Valentine’s Day. Which made things a little bit problematic for Jamian. He couldn’t very well say to the lovely Ivy, “Oh, any day but February 14th, please,” or, worse yet, “eesh, February 14th? That’s the day the mother/father of my first two kids is visiting.”

Given the choice between Tya’s completely random moods and the real chance of something lasting with Ivy, the choice was pretty simple. Jamian enlisted help.

Dagny was more than willing to run interference, but he didn’t like to get her between him and Tya if he could help it. The two had never gotten along, and his old lover was not known for being scrupulous when she wasn’t getting her way.

That left Cay and Vi. Both of them were both willing and able to make Tya’s life a little harder; he left them to the job (“don’t hurt her if you don’t have to, please, but don’t let her know where I’ve gone”) and headed into the village to pick up Ivy.

A thousand years ago, fifty years ago, if he’d had the courage to ask a beautiful woman on a date, he could have taken her to the movies, or out to dinner, to a miniature golf course, to the arcade. While Teeburg had a thriving restaurant, a small amateur theatre company, and was beginning to revitalize the use of currency at both, neither of those struck him as properly romantic for a first date.

Luckily, the teens in the town (and nevermind if one of those was his daughter; Jamian steadfastly refused to admit to himself that she was dating) had, since long before the War, found places to take dates that didn’t require money. And, while it was a bit chilly this time of year, a bit of prep and planning went a long way.

Ivy, thankfully, was charmed. “Jamian!” she exclaimed, as he brought her befurred-and-booted self carefully down the stream bank, “did you build that little house? And right on the water?”

“It’s just dry rock this time of year,” he demurred, “but I thought a little place all to ourselves would be nice. It’ll be warm inside – there’s a little stove.” He’d taken the idea from ice-fishing huts, though it wasn’t fish he hoped to catch. “And I cooked.”

Her kiss on his cheek was the sweetest thing he’d felt in decades. “You’re an absolute dear, Jame. I can’t wait to see the inside.”

Number three of three. Click here for the firse, click here for the second.


Copyright © 2009-2012 Lyn Thorne-Alder. All rights reserved.
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