In fourth grade on St. Valentines Day I gave a boy I liked a Pirates of the Caribbean valentine. It was the same card I gave everyone else with the exception of one detail. The cards were primarily black and brown, and being both brave and cowardly, I drew a small heart in black sharpie in the corner of
The card, which was also conveniently black. Later he calmly approached me and told me he knew I liked him because of the heart. He didn’t sound pleased with that information so I lied. I told him my sister was drawing hearts in valentines. It was kind of a lame lie.
Four years later that boy became a good friend of mine. He is shy and really creative. He blushes at the simplest things, beet red.
Five years later that boy became one of my best friends. He’s smart. He became friendly competition. When the world beat me up he’d be there to help me up. When various relationships ended he was there to cheer me up.
Six years later that boy put his arm around me after he spent a few hours explaining the chemistry lesson I missed in school. It felt like he was drawing a small heart in sharpie on the black part of a valentine. I’m not sure if I want to see that heart yet and I hate that. It was easy to draw that heart when I had nothing to lose, but now I have a best friend dangling by thread.
Right now, I’m just hoping he doesn’t change his sharpie to a color that stands out on black. I want to figure things out first.