VALENTINE’S DAY. A Short Story.

“I am looking for a penfriend. My name is Simon Stokes. I am twenty-seven years old, am five feet ten inches tall, have brown hair and have been widowed for two years. My interests include poetry, music and drama and walking in the hills. I suppose I’m quite ordinary really – Perhaps even a bit boring. I am just looking for someone to write to. Please reply to the above address. All letters will be answered”.

“Dear Simon, I was very interested to read about you in the penfriend column. I have similar interests to yours and am also a bit of a loner. From your description of yourself that’s what you seem to be. I had a bit of a rough time at school I was bullied. Well if you’re a bit different you stand out and my red hair made me stand out. Also I was quieter than the others. I liked different kinds of music from them – Brahms and Chopin instead of pop music. Opera is a bit above me but I love going to ballet. Please write back to me. With best wishes, Val Jordan.

“Dear Val, I am so pleased you wrote back to me. I never thought anyone would. I had a few strange letters which I threw away. People said I should not have put my address at the top of my first one when I wrote to the mag. But I thought that, being a man it wouldn’t matter. I was sorry to hear about your rough times at school. I always had my head in a book and never paid much attention to the other children. I am out of work at present. Do you have children or are you not married? I was interested in your musical tastes. My wife Jeanette loved ballet. We were about to start a family when she was killed in a road accident. Do you only like classical music? Tell me what books you read, that’s if you ever have time to read. Best wishes Simon”.

“Dear Simon, I have just finished reading your letter and thought I ought to write back immediately. It is very unjust isn’t it to think you lost the chance of having your own family. One wonders which would have been worse – For you to have had a child before the accident or for you to go into your relationship unencumbered. Of course it would have been better for the accident never to have happened at all. I hope I have not been insensitive. I doubt I will ever have children unless society changes its attitude. I won’t go into that now. Did I tell you I was born in Scotland? I have three brothers and no sisters. My parents were very happy. Do you have any family? You never mentioned them in your last letters. I am a teacher. I have had about two really long-term relationships which broke up. It’s still painful to talk about them. It makes me really apprehensive about forming any new relationships in case they go wrong. Do you feel like that? It’s lonely being alone but frightening to risk not being in case you lose again. I hold the view though that whatever will be will be. I will close now, with kind regards, Val”.

“Dear Val, fancy you being a teacher! I hated all my teachers even though I was a bookworm. I should have loved them and they me but that didn’t turn out to be the case. I visited Scotland once. The people were really friendly and I had stovies for the first time. I’m afraid it took me rather a long time to get used to their accents. It occurred to me though that they took equally as long to get used to mine. We’re all normal to ourselves and yet different in the eyes of others though underneath very much the same. Yes, I have often thought of how it would have been had I had Jeanette’s children. In one way it would have been nice to have had part of her still living but in another it would have been hard bringing them up as a man on my own. I suppose I consider child rearing to be women’s work. I know that is a very politically incorrect thing to say but we are all products of our upbringing and I had very conventional parents plus one brother. He lives in Australia now. I visited him once but after Jeanette died I had a breakdown and lost my job. It’s hard to get another because of the stigma attached to mental illness and the climate of fear surrounding it. I would never have told you this in my previous letters but something you said in your last one makes me think that you have suffered in some way. I haven’t done much walking lately. I hope to get back to it soon. I look forward to receiving your next letter. Warmest wishes, Simon.”

“Dear Simon, I read your last letter with interest. I was very struck by what you said about us all being normal to ourselves. I’ve never thought of it that way. We strive so hard to be thought of as normal to others don’t we? I suppose I do know a lot about people’s prejudices – We all have pre-conceived ideas. Take you for instance thinking that child rearing is women’s work. I daresay that had you been left with one you would have done just as good a job. Possibly as a man left alone you may well have had more sympathy but would probably have felt very left out at a mother and toddler group. It would have given you something to live for though and part of Jeanette still with you as you say and yes – The frightening prospect of sole responsibility for another living being with nobody to share the angst with. My partner and I discussed how we could become parents and I would have loved to have been the one to take on the role of mother. I’d give my right arm for the chance and that’s because it will be harder for someone like me to ever have it. Isn’t it strange how what you can’t have you want most and doesn’t it make a nonsense of the saying ‘what you don’t have you don’t miss’? All of us are born with nothing but throughout our lives we want things which is just as well since if we didn’t we’d never have advanced beyond the caves. I met a blind man once who knew that the sun was red but not what being red meant. Likewise with the children I taught who had learning difficulties. They knew that they were different but longed to be treated the same as other people without knowing what being the same as other people meant. I have become too philosophical, Simon, and had better go before I get worse. Love Val.”

“Dear Val, I loved your letter. You said so much that I agree with. I think you should come and stay. If you came to stay I think I would find the courage to go walking again in the hills. I just need someone to give me the extra oomph I need to get me going. When Jeanette was alive I’d think nothing of going off by myself. She was a painter and loved being alone too. Now the thought of coming home to an empty house after being out alone is not a pleasing prospect. The doors of the house which used to be symbolic of the arms which used to go round me are now like the bars of a prison. The truth is Val, what I could never have admitted in my previous letters, is that I’m agoraphobic. I thought if people knew straight away they would think me a crank and not write back. Please come and we can meet. Love Simon.”

“Dear Simon. Arriving Monday. Will bring provisions. Looking forward to seeing you around two p.m. Love Val”.

As the hours tick by Simon’s heart is beating rapidly. He knows that Val will not solve all his problems, cure his agoraphobia, bring back Jeanette, fulfil all his fantasies but he also knows that all of us need a life belt to cling to as we relearn to swim in life’s turbulent and choppy ocean just as we also need to dip a toe in its waters.

The ring of the door bell jolted Simon from his thoughts. He opened the door and found himself staring into the face of a bearded man with suitcases and bags of food. “Hi,” said the man with the strong Scottish accent. “Short for Valentine of course. I have come down to tell you my secret. I am gay. I know you’re not of course. Know that from all your letters but we share a common humanity do we not? Oh god! This is coming out all wrong. We can be pals eh”. Simon stared into this kind man’s face – This man who had come miles in order to answer his desperate plea just for someone to understand. When he found his voice he simply said: “Come in. What the hell does it matter? Let’s get drunk together. Did you bring any booze”?