The Return of Victoria Valentine

 The clock on the wall came alive.  A tiny door at the top of the Swiss Chalet opened.  Mr. Bird appeared and cuckooed six times before retreating.  The music box struck up a verse of The Happy Wanderer, while a blond lady wearing a traditional dirndl danced toward her sweetheart in his lederhosen.  As if mesmerized, Lewis Parr watched until the clock returned to its unusually loud tick-tock.  The clock had hung on the wall for as long as Lewis could remember.  He wondered how his grandfather kept from pounding the thing silent with his cane, and then remembered it was a gift from Uncle Willis.  The clock arrived the same day they learned their son wouldn’t be coming home from the war.

Lewis looked down at the sermon he was trying to write, tossed down his pen, and stood up.  Maybe a run would clear his head, besides; the Montrose Marathon was only a month away.  He was in training.  After a quick shower, he donned running clothes and sat down on the bed to tie his shoes.  He glanced at the picture on the bedside table, finished tying his shoes, and reached out to pick it up. 

Henrietta Figgins smiled back at him from beneath a red umbrella.  Old Mrs. Figgins took the picture at the spring run in Canton.  She was proud of her granddaughter, and proud she had been successful in setting Henrietta up with Lewis.  He couldn’t understand why anyone would actually pursue him as a possible match for their daughter, or in this case, granddaughter.  He assumed, since they lived in such an isolated community where single men were at a premium; he was a better choice than Jerry, the town drunk.  Lewis and Henrietta were approaching their six month anniversary.  She was getting serious.  Lewis wasn’t so sure marriage to Henrietta was in his future.  What if she woke up one morning and really looked at the man she had married.  Besides, he wasn’t sure he could love her back.

Lewis stood up, opened the closet door, and peered at himself in the mirror.  He ran a hand over his shiny bald head, shaved to reduce the chance of thinking a comb over style might actually be a good idea.  He had to look closely to see the nearly invisible, blond eyebrows hovering over brilliant green eyes, his only real asset.  He stood as straight as possible, stretching his 5 foot 3 inches into 5 foot 3 ½ inches.  When turned sideways, Lewis was so skinny he was barely noticeable.  Perhaps, that’s why everyone in high school called him Stick Bug.  Those thick lenses in his horn-rimmed glasses probably added the bug to the stick part.  Thank goodness for contact lenses.  Leaning in, Lewis inspected his acne prone face, found a zit in need of popping, and popped it.  He smiled.  Only half of his face cooperated, the other half stayed in place, a result of an unresolved case of Bell’s palsy from when he was a child. 

Disgusted with his less than handsome self, Lewis closed the closet door and turned toward the kitchen.  His mother designed the kitchen around her tall frame.  She stood seven foot three inches.  Lewis’s father was even taller at seven foot six inches.  The counter tops were raised to give his mother a working surface which didn’t require constant bending.  His father thoughtfully provided a step stool so Lewis could reach the contents of the upper cabinets.  Now that his adoptive parents were both gone, he wanted to remodel the kitchen, but being a third generation Methodist preacher in a small town wasn’t lucrative.  Remodeling would have to wait. 

Lewis dragged a step stool across the kitchen floor and climbed to the top rung.  He opened the cabinet, took out a large bowl, and a box of Frosted Mini Wheats.  He ate half the box of cereal, two slices of toast with butter and jam, and finished breakfast with a slice of apple pie Henrietta baked for him.  Lewis always ate a lot, even as a young boy.  He wanted to grow up to be like his parents.  Yet, no matter how much he ate, Lewis didn’t grow tall or gain weight.  He was still a short stick.

After inserting the right ear bud into his left ear, taking it out, putting it in the right ear, and turning on his MP3 player.  Lewis matched his pace to Neil Young’s Harvest Moon and turned down Maple Street. 

To alleviate boredom, Lewis usually worked on Sunday’s sermon as he ran, but he was still having trouble coming up with a topic.  Instead, his thoughts turned to a woman and the woman wasn’t Henrietta Figgins.  In his mind’s eye, this woman was still a girl.  Her long blond hair framed a face so beautiful it rivaled Madonna’s, the singer, not the depiction of the Virgin Mary.  Her eyes were bluer than the bluest of skies and unlike other teenagers, her skin was flawless.  The woman was Violet Valentine, the love of his life.

Violet and Lewis started dating their junior year in high school.  Lewis would never have worked up the nerve to ask any girl out, especially not a girl as beautiful as Violet—she asked him out.  Violet said she was tired of those football players and their groping hands.  She wanted to date someone she could talk to, someone smart.  They continued their relationship through high school and college. 

After graduation, Lewis and Violet planned to spend a month backpacking through Europe together.  When they returned from their trip, they were to be married and live the fairy tale life of happily ever after.  Unfortunately, Lewis lost his parents a week before they were to leave.  It was up to Lewis to take over his grandfather’s and father’s vocation and become the new minister at Morehead Methodist Church.  Violet went to Europe alone.  Their relationship ended with a Dear Lewis letter postmarked from Madrid.

Feeling the need for speed, Lewis fumbled with his MP3 player.  He found a faster paced song which was a better fit for his thoughts, Soul Sucker.  Lewis envisioned Violet as he sang along with Ozzie,

Get out of my face

the past is running in place

the slivers cut me as you

suck the soul right out of me

Lewis practically screamed the last words, SOUL SUCKER, as he rounded the corner onto Sycamore Road and came to a screeching halt.  He grabbed Henrietta to keep her from falling.  Pulled her into his arms, held her tight, and then kissed her on the mouth.  Their kiss wasn’t just any old kiss, it was their first kiss.  Henrietta stood there, speechless, staring with her mouth open wide enough for a 747 to fly inside.  Lewis turned her loose, lifted his arm in farewell, and continued his run.

Certain seeing Henrietta at that exact moment was a sign, Lewis flew down the street with a little added giddy up to his step.  He would put Violet the Soul Sucker to rest for good and marry Henrietta.  Once Lewis made a decision, he moved quickly.  He would propose tonight.  After all, he already had his grandmother’s engagement ring.  All he needed was a place, and what better place than church.  He would ask her to meet him there, propose, and then take her to dinner at Luigi’s.  Henrietta would be the perfect wife for a minister.

Dressed in his best Sunday suit, Lewis opened the top dresser drawer and pulled out a velvet box.  Inside was a half carat round-cut diamond solitaire.  He slipped it on his pinky finger, trying to judge whether or not it would fit Henrietta.  Thank goodness his grandmother wasn’t a large person like his parents.  He took the ring off, tucked it in his pocket, and started toward the door.  That’s when the telephone started ringing.  He looked at it, ignored the incessant ringing and opened the door, and then closed it again.  He was a minister, what if someone needed him.  He answered the phone.

The voice on the other end of the phone said, “May I speak with Lewis Parr?”

Lewis didn’t recognize the voice, or so he told himself.  A knot formed in his throat, causing him to labor over three simple words, “This is he.”

“Lewis!  It’s V.”  When she didn’t get a response she continued, “Violet, Violet Valentine.  Remember?”

Lewis was silent, unsure whether or not he heard the caller correctly, “Violet?”

“Yes!  Violet!  It sure is good to hear your voice.”

Lewis coughed, cleared his throat, and then coughed again.  “Yours, too,” was all he could manage.

“I’m back in the states.  I know, I know.  I’m ten years late, but I really need to see you.  Can we meet tonight?”

Violet Valentine, the woman he had loved for as long as he could remember.  He couldn’t believe he was actually talking to her.  Lewis pulled the ring out of his pocket and dropped it into a crystal candy dish on the hall table, “When?  Where?”

“In twenty minutes at Clarice’s Diner.  It is still there isn’t it?”

Lewis laughed, “Yes, it’s still there.  I’ll see you then.”

After a quick phone call to cancel his date with Henrietta, Lewis drove the ten miles in less than seven minutes.  He climbed out of his car and rushed inside.  The place was empty except for Clarice and a man sipping coffee at the counter.  He sat down in the first booth and breathed a sigh of relief.  He was the first to arrive.

“Just coffee,” he called to Clarice.

The man turned to look at Lewis, and then picked up his coffee cup, walked over to the booth where Lewis was sitting, and sat down opposite him. 

The man looked a little familiar to Lewis, but he couldn’t place him.  “I’m waiting for someone,” Lewis said.

“I know,” the man said.  He held out his hand, “You’re Lewis, I’m Vincent Valentine.”

Lewis took his hand, “Pleased to meet you.  Are you related to Violet?  I believe I see a family resemblance.”

“I guess you could say we’re related.  I didn’t want to tell you this way, but there’s no easy way to say this.  I am Violet, or I was.  I changed my name to Vincent two years ago.  I’m not a woman anymore.”

Lewis stared, mouth agape.  “V-v-violet?”

“Yes, Lewis.  It’s me, your old friend Violet.  Really Lewis, I’m sorry, but I need your help.  I’m getting married to my long time partner, Kimberly.  Since you are my friend and a minister, I want you to perform the ceremony.  Please say you will.”

Lewis stared, mouth agape.

“Lewis?  Please?”

“So, basically the only reason you dated me was so everyone would think you were straight?”

“It wasn’t like that, Lewis.  Really it wasn’t.”

Lewis felt like the coffee he had ingested was about to reappear.  He stood up, pulled a five dollar bill out of his pocket, and threw it on the table.  He gave Violet—or Vincent—one last look and turned on his heel.  “No!”  He called over his shoulder.

Safely inside the car, Lewis dialed his cell phone, “Henrietta, my plans have changed again.  Meet me at the church in fifteen minutes.”