Mad Valentine: A Bad Boy Romance (Mad Valentine Trilogy Book 1) (14 page)

XXXI. Gratitude

Stu’s Person of the Year article ran on a Monday in late April. Because it was a special issue with unique design and written elements, I had gone into the
Merritt Daily
newsroom that weekend to help Owen and the designers with last-minute edits and layout. When we were done, the special issue looked amazing. It was dignified and clean, reflecting Stu’s personal values. The photographer I had sent for Stu’s portraits had done a great job. On the cover, a full-color Stu grinned from his garage studio, his arms crossed, his dirty worker’s hands resting on his elbows. Looking at it, I was filled with pride. I thought of how happy it would make Victor.

It had now been more than two months since I’d seen Victor, but I still thought of him every day. I had taken to wearing his tuxedo jacket around the house, smelling traces of him on the lapels, kissing the cuffs where they had brushed against his wrists. I was wearing it that Monday morning when the special issue hit the stands. I decided to get two copies of the newspaper and deliver them personally—one to Stu, one to Victor.

Once I had changed out of the jacket and into normal clothes, I strolled across campus to the newspaper machine by the greasy spoon. It was a beautiful spring day and I felt better than I had in weeks. After taking two copies of the paper out of the machine, I looked at the front cover again, my byline under the full-page picture of Stu. I breathed in deeply with satisfaction and headed to the north side of campus, toward Victor’s apartment. I stopped first at his favorite coffee shop just on the hope that he was there. He wasn’t. I got a black Americano to go, and I walked the rest of the way to Victor’s apartment.

Standing in front of the avocado green building, I had an overwhelming urge to call him and to tell him I was at his house, that I still loved him, that all I wanted was five minutes to talk to him. But I didn’t. Instead, I quietly approached his mailbox, carefully folded the newspaper into thirds, and tucked it into the opening. Hitching my satchel back up and mouthing a silent goodbye, I walked away.

I walked to Stu’s garage next. He was a much more reliable person to find, because there he was at his workbench as always, grappling with a piece of metal.

“Hi, Stu!” I called out, entering the garage. “How are you?”

Stu turned with a look of surprise. I noticed the space heater I had gotten him for Christmas was occupying a prime spot near the end of his workbench. Victor must have given it to him. I smiled inwardly, pleased that he was getting some use out of it.

“Ellen!” he called back, a smile spreading across his face. “How nice to see you! Come in, come in!” He put down his piece of metal and came toward me. I wasn’t expecting a hug, so I was surprised when he gave me one.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you for your thoughtful Christmas present,” he said, releasing me from his bear hug. “It’s done wonders in this drafty old place. I wish I could have thanked you earlier, but I never knew where to find you and you never came back here!”

“Well, I’ve been meaning to thank you too, Stu,” I replied. “I contacted your friend Edwin at
Esquire
and can you believe it? They gave me an internship!”

“No kidding!”

“Yeah! It’s almost too good to be true. Thank you so much. It never would have happened without your help.”

“Nah,” he said, waving the idea off. “You would have gotten there on your own, I know it.” He studied me with his warm eyes. “So you’re going to New York then?”

“Looks like I am. I leave after graduation, in late May.”

“You should be very proud of yourself,” he said. “I know Victor must be proud.”

I dropped my eyes, suddenly self-conscious. “Well, I haven’t told him yet,” I said. “It’s been so busy and we haven’t been talking a lot. Have you seen him?” I threw the question in casually.

“Well, you know we go out sometimes for a drink or two,” he said. “I guess the last time I saw him was about two weeks ago.”

That’s eight weeks more recently than me!

“How’s he doing?” Again, I tried to sound casual.

“Oh, you know, Victor’s Victor. Same old pain in the neck. But to be honest, he seemed a little down.”

“Oh?”

Stu’s knowing eyes studied me and I knew I was no match for him. This wise old man could probably read every emotion on my face. But for some reason, I kept up the charade. For appearances, I guess. And out of politeness. I’m sure Stu didn’t need a young woman breaking down into a mélange of tears and heartache in his studio.

“You know, Ellen, Victor’s a very stubborn person when he wants to be,” he said kindly. “He can be downright hardheaded. But he cares for you. He cares for you very much. And you shouldn’t think that he doesn’t.”

I felt a hard lump rise in my throat and I couldn’t reply. So I nodded instead.

“Oh, here,” I said with some difficulty, changing the topic. “This is why I came by.” I pulled out the
Merritt Daily
from my satchel. “I wanted to deliver this to you in person.”

Stu took the Person of the Year Special Issue in both hands and gazed at it with a smile. “Would you look at this,” he breathed. Words seemed to escape him for a moment and he turned his kind eyes to me. “What a wonderful job you’ve done. This makes me so proud. Thank you, Ellen. Thank you very much for this.”

“You’re welcome, Stu.”

“My wife will love to read this. And afterwards, I’ll frame it and put it on my wall. Just there,” he said, pointing above his workbench.

“That’d be great, Stu,” I said, laughing.

We exchanged a few more pleasantries and I turned to go.

“Ellen,” Stu called as I walked away. I turned around. “I’m sure Victor thanks you too. From the bottom of his heart.”

I knew Stu was not exaggerating, but I never quite expected Victor’s gratitude to take physical form. When I got home later that afternoon, I found a bouquet of flowers at my door. They were beautiful—white roses, blue irises, hydrangeas, and fresh little white daisies tinged with pink. I picked up the bouquet with wonder, still getting over the surprise. There was no note, no card, nothing to indicate who or where they came from. But I think I knew.

I let myself into the apartment, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it. I brought the bouquet to my nose and took a deep breath in. The sweet, fresh scent calmed me, and I closed my eyes. I imagined Victor going to the flower shop and picking out a bouquet. I imagined him driving to my house in his El Dorado, parking, and loitering around outside, waiting for a tenant to come or go so he could slip into the building. I imagined him setting the flowers at my door, standing there for a moment, then turning to leave. I imagined him driving away.

It all felt so sweet and so pure that I decided not to muddy the gesture with questions, text messages, or pleading voicemails. I just accepted his gratitude with gratitude of my own.

XXXII. Saved

It was now mid May and my final year of college was coming to a close. A week before graduation, I took stock of all that had happened to me in the last year. I’d aced most of my classes, gotten an internship at a prestigious magazine, and achieved my dream of going to New York. I’d fallen in love and had my heart broken. I’d broken a heart myself. When I thought of the ups and downs I’d navigated over the last ten months, I realized I’d learned some valuable lessons, both in the classroom and out. What I didn’t know was that I had yet to face another frightening challenge before the school year was out—one that involved my best friend.

It happened at about ten o’clock, not very late in the evening. I was in my apartment, wearing Victor’s tuxedo jacket and washing some dishes. The phone rang. I dried my hands on a kitchen towel and looked at the display.

Call from: Miggety Mags

I picked up. “What’s up, Mags?”

At first, there was only silence, and then there was a sob.

“Maggie? What’s wrong?”

“Ellen, I…I’m at the hospital with Warren.”

“What? Maggie, are you all right?”

She sniffled. “Yes, we’re both all right. I’m fine. But Warren is hurt. We got mugged tonight by four guys.”

“Oh, my god!” I cried. “Mags, I’m coming right now! Which hospital are you at? Are you at Mercy?”

“Yes, come, Ellen, but…El, I have to tell you something. See, he came and saved us. It was so dark and it was just me and Warren and we didn’t see them coming…And I had my laptop and…We just couldn’t fight them off. If he hadn’t come…Oh, my god! What if he hadn’t come?”

“What? Who, Mags? Who came and saved you?”

A pause.

“Victor.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. I closed my eyes and tried to put the pieces together but I couldn’t. The one thing I had to know immediately was if Victor was okay. “Maggie,” I said, speaking slowly, “is Victor hurt?”

“He…he is a little, but he’s okay. They’re going to release him. Warren is looking bad, though. The doctor says he’s got internal bleeding. They’re keeping him here overnight.”

I covered my mouth with my hand and squeezed my eyes shut.

This is not happening. This is not happening.

“Okay, sit tight, Maggie. I’m on my way.”

“Okay.”

When I hung up, my mind went into unfeeling, super-efficient robot mode. In a few deft moves, I had gotten an Uber to the hospital, packed some snacks for Maggie, and sent Archie a text:

Maggie and Warren got mugged tonight. Don’t worry, they’re at Mercy and recovering. Come if you want, or just call me in an hour for details. On my way to Mercy now. Love you, hang tight, everything will be fine.

I ran out the door and jumped in the Uber. At the hospital, I went to the Emergency Room and saw Maggie sitting and waiting for me, a bandage on her forehead.

“Mags!” I cried, and rushed to her.

“Ellen!” she ran to me and we hugged. “Thank god you’re here, El. I’m such a mess; I just don’t know what to think right now.”

“Are you having trouble focusing? Did you hit your head?” I asked with concern, looking at the bandage.

“No, I’m fine, I just got a scrape when I hit the ground,” she said. “But I’m just feeling…really emotional.”

“Of course you are!” I said. I sat her down and sat next to her. “Mags, you just went through a traumatic experience. But it’s going to be okay. I’m here now. Here,” I said, digging through my purse for her snacks. “Eat this. It’ll be good for your blood sugar.” I handed her some Hershey’s kisses. She took them, nodding. “Do you need some water?” She shook her head. “Do you feel like talking about it?” She nodded. “Okay, then start at the beginning and tell me exactly what happened.”

She took a deep breath.

“Warren and I were walking across campus back to the frat house. I was just going to hang out with the guys. It was dark and I had my laptop, and I’d just withdrawn money at the ATM, but I didn’t think anything of it. I wasn’t going far; I was just going across campus, and I was with Warren. Well, you know that especially dark part of campus, sort of by the loading docks?”

I nodded, immediately recognizing it as the part of Merritt that I’d once considered the “underside,” where Stu’s studio was.

“We were passing by there when these four guys came out of nowhere and told us to give them our stuff.” She looked frightened by the memory, and I put my arm around her. “I…I didn’t want to give everything up so easily. My laptop has all my final papers and year-end work on it. And I had so much money on me! So I resisted. It was so stupid, but I tried to talk us out of it. But one guy grabbed me and tried to yank my backpack off. Warren tried to stop him, but the three other guys jumped on him. One had a baseball bat, El…” Maggie squeezed her eyes shut, and I sat frozen, harrowed by her tale.

“They began beating Warren and I screamed for help. I struggled with the guy who was on me and he shoved me to the ground. That’s how I got this.” She touched her forehead. “Then I heard somebody running towards us and I was so afraid it was more of their friends. But I looked up from the ground and I saw Victor. He grabbed the guy on top of me and punched him, hard. I think he knocked some teeth out, because the guy fell with his hands to his face, and there was blood coming out of his mouth. Then two of the others turned to Victor while one kind of kept an eye on Warren. I looked at Warren—he was struggling to stand up, but he seemed too hurt to do it. The guy with the baseball bat swung at Victor. Victor tackled him to the ground, but the bat got him on the collarbone.” Maggie squeezed her eyes shut again. “The doctor said Victor’s collarbone is broken.”

I almost jumped out of my seat and demanded where he was, if he was still at the hospital, if he was okay, and where I could find him. But I bit my tongue, sitting absolutely still while a riot raged in me. I let my friend finish.

“In the struggle, Victor somehow got the baseball bat and he must have hurt the other guy enough to keep him still, because he stood up with the bat to face the other two guys. But I guess they were scared by then. The one with the bloody mouth was already slinking away, and the one who hit Victor got up and ran. Then the others ran off. I rushed to Warren. Victor helped him stand up and he walked us to his car. I guess he had been visiting a teacher nearby and was heading back to his car when he heard me screaming.”

He was visiting Stu,
I thought.

“He drove us to Mercy and called 911 on the way. He told the police there’d been a mugging. He said we were heading to Mercy Hospital and we’d file a report from there.” Maggie looked up at me, her pretty features darkened with pain. “He took care of it all, El. I just sat in the back with Warren while he took care of it all.”

“Oh, honey,” I said pulling her to me.

“He saved us,” she said into my shoulder. “He put himself in danger to save us. He fought off four guys and now he’s got a broken bone. And here I am with my laptop, my money, and just a scratch on my head. Oh, El, I feel so terrible!” She broke down crying. I let her sob onto my shoulder.

After a few minutes of crying, she calmed down and continued. “The doctors took Warren in for treatment, but Victor stayed in the waiting room with me to meet the police and file the report. We talked while we waited. I apologized to him for judging him badly all along. I admitted to him that I’d been glad when he let you go,” she said tearfully. “He said he knew, but that he didn’t blame me. He said he knew he wasn’t good enough for you. Oh, god!” Maggie covered her face with her hands. “I’ve been so judgmental! I’m so, so ashamed.”

I felt a tear roll down my face and I wiped it away. I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t bring myself to.

“I told him you got the
Esquire
internship,” she said with a sniffle. “You should have seen him. He looked really proud.”

I closed my eyes and felt more tears run down my face. I didn’t bother wiping them away. “Is he still here?” I asked quietly.

Maggie shook her head. “As soon as we filed the report and he got checked out by the doctor, he left. I’m sorry, but I think he wanted to avoid seeing you.”

I nodded. “I know,” I said, feeling that old familiar grief. I could almost point to the exact location in my chest where the grief resided and tell you how big it was and how much it weighed, it was so familiar to me now.

A nurse approached us then and asked if we were friends of Warren McDowell. We nodded, and she told us we could go see him if we liked.

*

Warren lay in a hospital gown in bed with a black eye, a swollen lip, and an IV in his arm. I felt a rush of pity for this friend of mine whom I had also hurt, though not in a physical way. Thugs had broken his body. I had broken his heart. I wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Hi, guys,” Warren said when he saw us walk in. “Maggie, are you doing all right?”

“Yeah, Warren, I’m great,” she said, taking his hand. “Nothing but a scratch. How are you doing?”

“Busted insides. Lucky me.” His bruised and swollen face attempted a smile. “Doctor says I don’t need surgery, though. I should be out of here in a few days, and I’ve got a good chance of walking at graduation.”

I lingered in the back while the two victims compared their battle scars. Suddenly, I heard Warren address me.

“Thanks for coming, El.” His blue eyes looked at me with warmth.

“Of course, Warren,” I said. I couldn’t bring myself to call him “buddy.” Not after everything. I smiled at him and stepped forward to take his hand, not quite knowing what to say. But I didn’t need to; Warren filled the silence.

“Ellen,” he said, “I know I should have said this ages ago, but I’m sorry for what I did on Valentine’s Day. I’ve been wanting to apologize in person, but I was so embarrassed.” He looked away. “I can’t believe the things I said to you…and in front of all those people.” He made a sound of disgust. “I need you to know that I was in a really bad place when I said those things. I was hurting, and I was really drunk, and I’m so sorry.” He looked at me timidly. “Will you forgive me?”

I cast my eyes to the floor, mulling over Warren’s plea. What he’d said and done was inexcusable, but I’d never shown him proper respect either. Agreement or no, I had used him. And now, he was lying here in the hospital. What could I do? He was hurting, and I knew what it was to hurt. We were all hurting.

“Yes, I forgive you,” I finally said, but I added a caveat. “That wasn’t the Warren I knew on Valentine’s Day. That Warren really scared me. Please promise you won’t say or do those sorts of things to anyone again.”

Warren nodded silently. But as I recalled the ugliness and abuse he had so easily flung around that day, I wondered if he would be able to keep the promise.

An hour later, when visiting hours ended and a nurse had shooed us out of Warren’s room, Maggie and I took a cab back to her apartment. We had decided I would stay with her that night. She was still shaken up, and I thought being with a friend would put her at ease. Archie had already called and asked what he could do, but we told him everything was fine. We promised to meet him tomorrow for hugs and coffee.

That night, lying on Maggie’s couch, I picked up my phone and texted a message to Victor:

You saved my friends. I can’t thank you enough. Take care of your collarbone. I love you.