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The Wedding Date
Delia was in love with Don on sight even as a little girl, though she would sooner have bitten her own tongue off than admit it.
Originally, he was the boy next door and she, the victim of his incessant teasing. When he wasn’t pulling her pigtails or getting her in trouble at school, he would punch her arm good-naturedly, but always a little too hard.
She smiled softly now. For all these years he made sure she would think of him constantly. The bruise on her upper-arm was testament to that. It stubbornly remained there throughout grammar, junior, and senior high school.
She couldn’t have imagined, feeling more than disdain for Don, and was relieved he didn’t know what she thought of him then. Now, post-college graduation, the two stood outside the local market staring in disbelief.
“Delia?” He asked as his eyes raked her appreciatively.
“Don? Is it really you?”
“Yes,” he laughed, “You’ve changed.”
“Thanks, I think,” she quipped.
“Have dinner with me,” he said, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
“I don’t know,” Delia stalled
“Let’s take this one night to get reacquainted. C’mon. What do you say,” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.
Remembering that it was pointless to argue with him, she agreed warily. As she turned to go, he spun her around, kissed her deeply, socked her upper-arm and said, “I’ll pick you up at nine. We’ll get married tomorrow.”
Delia stood gasping; trying to catch her breath as she watched his solid frame walk away. She called after him, “You’re joking, right?”
“You’ll have to risk a date with me to find out,” he said with a wicked smirk.
Contrary to years ago Delia smiled brightly in spite of herself, whispering, “Happy Valentine’s Day to me!”
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