The Boy from the Band

Unexpected Surprises

Two days later the flowers arrived, a mass of roses, peonies, and hydrangeas interspersed with carnations and daisies, in the familiar shades of the pinks, whites, and yellows that I loved. He signed the card "Be good, get well, love Ricky" with the little stick man with a heart-shaped head. That little touch set my eyes to tearing a little, I was more emotional than usual these days.

The flowers didn't surprise me, I would have been surprised if I hadn't gotten them. What caught me off guard was the arrival of an envelope with no return address and my name and address printed in block letters by a hand I didn't recognize.

The contents were even more of a puzzle. Inside the envelope, I found a folded up sheet of plain typing paper and as I unfolded it, a small rectangular shaped piece fluttered to the floor. I stooped to pick it up, wincing a little, then found I was staring at a check for five hundred dollars, signed by Rick himself.

Whoa. It took me a moment to take this in. He'd never given me money and I had never asked, nor ever would. Presents were one thing and I had some lovely jewelry in a box in my bedroom, but cash? This was something altogether new and I didn't know what to think.

I picked up the phone and dialed Gina. "Get over here, now," I told her, "I'll tell you when you get here."

"Jesus, could you at least ask? I haven't been up that long. Sometimes you really make me wonder why we're friends, Dacy."

"I know, just get over here asap, you'll see when you get here."

I ran my eyes over the sheet of paper. "Don't spend it all on bills and groceries" was scrawled across the middle. It was a sweet thing to do, I guess, but I felt uncomfortable. My tennis bracelet had probably cost at least this much, but it had been a present, not a check. I'd never been given cash by a lover before and I needed Gina's opinion.

She came in the door saying, "Now why the fuck did you insist on my coming here?" and I handed the check to her.

"Holy shit!" was all she could say--that was my exact sentiments.

"Yeah," I nodded, "This is a new one, Gee, no lover of mine has ever given me money, let alone five hundred dollars. I'm having trouble figuring this out. Am I over-thinking this? Is this pity money—I definitely don't want his pity. Is it guilt money? Does he feel bad that I had to have a hysterectomy or is it because he was partly responsible? Or is he just trying to help me out, which is weird because he knows I can take care of myself."

"Do you think he gave it to you to see what you'd do—though that's kind of weird. Maybe, well, maybe he's just trying to look after you and this is his way of doing it."

"Maybe," I was staring at the check, "I just wish he'd warned me or asked, you know."

I handed her the piece of typing paper. She scanned it, then looked at me. "Well, if it was meant to be a surprise that would have spoiled it. If it were me, I might not accept it, then again I haven't been with him for almost three years. Besides, this is your second major surgery so maybe he wanted to do something for you. Did you want me to deposit it while the banks are still open?"

"Yes, I'll just let it sit in my account until I need it. Could you pick up a few things at the store? I've got a list. I can't wait until I'm independent and that better be soon."

"Hey," she teased, "What's the point of having friends if you can't take advantage of them once in a while? You'd do the same for me. The minute you feel well enough to go out, we're going to hit the best restaurant in town and celebrate." She leaned over and kissed me, "I'm really proud of you, you know, you went through something really awful without wallowing in self-pity."