A belated Friday the 13th blog

FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH or VALENTINE’S EVE 2-14-09

Hi everyone,

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to discuss Friday 13th or Valentine’s Day. Then my son told me an incident that happened during his day and I decided his story was about both Friday the 13th and Valentine’s Day.

My son got into our car after school and asked, “How was your day?” I said, “My day was okay, how was your day?” He said with great enthusiasm, “I had a really good day.” I caught his enthusiasm and asked him, “What happened!” He said, “I made fifty dollars.” It was more than I made that day, so I was suspicious.  “How did you make fifty dollars?”

He said, “I don’t know if I should tell you.” I said, “what am I gonna do call the police?” He said, “Okay, I won it in a bet.” “What bet?” He said, “I bet my friend Keon that his girlfriend was gonna break up with him and she did.” I said, “Well, Keon had a bad day didn’t he? He lost fifty dollars and his girlfriend.” My son said, “I guess so.” A moment passed then he added, “He bet me one hundred dollars but that was too much so he’s gonna pay me fifty. Two dollars a day.”

I felt bad for Keon. I asked how long they had been together as a couple. My son said, “Something like three weeks.” Long term just as I had thought. Neither of us said anything for a while. We took in the gravity of Keon’s world.

My son had just gotten a girlfriend a few days earlier. I suspected something when we were at the Glendale Galleria a few days earlier and he bought a bag of See’s Red Hot Hearts and didn’t eat them. It was a small bag that cost him five dollars.

I said, “How’s your girlfriend?” He said, “Oh, her. She’s not my girlfriend anymore.” I said, “I’m sorry to hear that.” He said, “It’s okay.” I said, “At least you didn’t loose fifty dollars too.” He said, “Yeah.” Poor Keon. He said, “I guess when we get home we can eat the hearts.” You’re just like me, I thought, looking for the silver lining in everything life hands you.

When we got home I went to the corner hutch and there were the Red Hot Hearts looking out the window at us. I took them out as if it were part of a ritual. It was his first girlfriend. She had put a spring in his step that wasn’t there before. She had somehow made him stronger, more sure of himself. I liked seeing him that way. Will it stay, I wondered as I handed him the bag of hearts.

I said, “You should be the one to cut the ribbon.” He got the scissors and cut the ribbon. The two ends fell to the floor. He then did something I had never seen him do. He bent down and picked them up.

And so it was on Friday the 13th. We ate the hot hearts of my son’s first love, lost on Valentine’s Eve.  Just so you know, I will not post this without his permission.

This has been, Margaret Smith. Happy Valentine’s Day.