March Forth Short Story
by Sandy Listorti
Nothing can more effectively bring a young lady to the center of attention than an enormous bouquet of flowers delivered to her desk before she arrives at the office in the morning. The crowd of people clustered around her cubicle alerted Alice to her elevated status on that otherwise unexceptional Friday morning. She had to push past a couple of curious coworkers to reach her workspace, only to see the nosiest of them reaching for the tiny card nestled among a gorgeous array of red roses in a crystal vase next to her computer.
“Grateful client?” asked one colleague who was observing the scene over the cubicle wall.
“Clients don’t send long-stemmed, red roses. They send mixed bouquets,” another observer replied.
“Or fruit baskets,” added another.
“Or nothing,” chimed in another, inciting a chorus of grumbles.
Alice plucked the card from among the stems and opened it, careful to shield it from the prying eyes that peered over her shoulder as her audience pressed in.
The message was cryptic: “Love can be a noun. I give my love to you.”
“Well? Who is it from?”
Alice blushed as she answered, “Leo. My boyfriend.”
“Wasn’t Valentine’s Day last month?” asked the man in the next cubicle.
“If you have to ask…” one of the gathered ladies said with a raise of the eyebrows.
“Maybe it’s a make-up Valentine. Didn’t he just give you a card and a candy bar?” Alice’s friend Lynn asked.
“It was a really good candy bar,” Alice said defensively. “And a nice card. We hadn’t – haven’t – been dating very long. Besides, I am not one of those Valentine fanatics. I don’t care about all of that silliness.”
“It’s not your birthday, is it?” the office social leader asked guiltily.
“Yes! Cake in the break room!” a man from the next aisle shouted from his desk.
“No, it’s not my birthday,” Alice said. “I don’t know why he sent them.”
The general interest in Alice’s flowers diminished immediately upon the arrival of a supervisor in the office, and while the crowd dissipated, Alice sent a text message to her boyfriend, thanking him for the flowers. He did not respond, and Alice settled down at her desk to work.
The next delivery arrived just before lunchtime. It came in a small, discreet box, and so its arrival did not attract the notice of Alice’s coworkers. Alice opened the box to find a beautifully decorated cupcake, with a message printed on it in icing: “Love can be a verb. I love you.”
Alice smiled, and, setting the box down, sent another thank-you text to Leo. He replied only with a smiley face. Leo had never told her before that he loved her. Alice wondered if it counted when it was written on a cupcake. She licked the frosting off the cupcake before heading for the break room for lunch. She didn’t want to answer any questions about the message on it.
The third delivery came with the mail. The green envelope stood out from the rest of the mail in Alice’s box because it was obviously a greeting card. Alice took it back to her cubicle to read it in privacy, but just as she pulled the Christmas card from the envelope, Lynn stopped by for a breath of rose-scented air.
“Oh, good, I am not the only person who was late sending out Christmas cards. And I got mine out in January – I think if I couldn’t manage to send them until March I wouldn’t bother,” Lynn said as she buried her face in the bouquet of roses.
“It’s not a Christmas card,” Alice said. It had originally been intended as a Christmas card, but Leo, the sender, had altered it. The front of the card showed a row of toy soldiers marching in step, and above them the words Merry Christmas had been crossed out with a marker. Underneath the canceled message Leo had written, “March Forth!”
Alice flipped the card open. Leo had crossed out the inside message as well, and written his own. “Just one little letter can change the whole meaning of a message. On this March fourth, I hope you will march forth at 5:00 and meet me at our usual cafe.”
He had signed his name, and under it, had written a p.s. – “Lovely is an adjective that describes you perfectly.”
Lynn tried to see what was written in the card, but Alice hid it from her view, so Lynn shrugged and left. Alice sent Leo a text accepting his invitation.
Alice did not expect any more deliveries after receiving the card, so she was more surprised than she should have been when one more arrived via courier. Such deliveries were not uncommon, so no one took notice when the box was delivered to Alice’s cubicle. Alice opened it to find a little, silver bird pendant. The bird’s wings were enameled in shades of red to look like flames – it was a phoenix. There was a folded sheet of paper in the box; Alice took it out and read the message: “I would literally walk through fire for you, though I certainly hope you will never ask me to do so. Love, Leo.”
The message was peculiar, but Alice could not help smiling. She had told Leo how much it annoyed her to hear people use the word literally incorrectly. Every time she heard a colleague say, “I literally died laughing,” she had to bite her tongue to keep from saying, “I wish you would.” Alice clasped the silver chain around her neck and looked up at the clock. Nearly time to meet Leo. She could not wait to hear his explanation for the stream of odd gifts and messages.
Leo was waiting at a table when Alice arrived at the cafe. She had brought one of the roses with her, and he smiled when he saw it. He kissed her, and whispered in her ear.
“Happy National Grammar Day.”
#* *
“March Forth” by Sandy Listorti received an honorable mention in the 2011 National Grammar Day short story contest.