My Funny Valentine

David turned his key in the front door, opened it, and quietly made his way into the dark hallway.  A solitary light came from deep inside the house. He dropped his briefcase and overcoat in the hall closet, loosened his tie, and started toward the gleam.  As he was passing through the living room, the table in the shadows of the dining room caught his eye.

Piss.

Two places had been set with their good china, cloth napkins, and sparkling crystal goblets.  Jenny had never done more than get him a card before, and after three months of her withholding sex, he really hadn't expected this.

He heard a shuffle and turned.  Jenny stood in the doorway of the room, wearing her terry cloth robe and fuzzy pink slippers.  Even with the light behind her, he could see that her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.  He shrugged helplessly.

"I'm so sorry.  I had no idea.  Work has been so busy, and I stayed late to try to get caught up.  I completely forgot it was Valentine's Day."

That was a lie.  He hadn't forgotten at all.  He'd simply chosen to spend the evening banging Phoebe, his secretary, on the suede couch in his office than enduring the cold silence of the woman he'd married.

"I know how busy you've been.  It's OK," Jenny said without looking at him.

That, too, was a lie.  It was not OK.  He could almost see her mentally taking out a three by five card and writing "2-14-2011: Missed Valentine's Day dinner" in bright red ink.  It would be filed away in that endless card catalog of hurts and mistakes that she had kept over the last 12 years.

She moved toward the table and picked up a covered platter.

"I could heat it up for you," she said as she walked into the adjoining kitchen.

"No, no, that's OK.  I had take-out at the office."

Now that was true.  He had ordered a three-course meal from Avanti Ristorante delivered to his office, complete with antipasto, crab-stuffed chicken over angel hair pasta, crusty bread and olive oil, and tiramisu for dessert, all served with the house champagne.  Phoebe had gotten tipsy, and then a little bit whiny.

"When are you going to leave your wife?" she'd asked him as he walked her to her car.

"Soon," he'd promised, then kissed her good-bye and watched her drive away.

Jenny came back into the dining room and began clearing the table.

"I can help with dishes," he offered.

She waved him away with a tired smile.  She was in full-martyr mode now.

"I'll just set them in the sink and do them tomorrow.  They didn't really get dirty."

He picked up the goblets and followed her, added them to the rest of the untouched dishes, and turned to leave. 

She reached out and caught his arm.  It was the first time they had touched, that they had been close enough to touch, in months.  Her hand trembled with uncertainty.

"Happy Valentine's Day," she said and finally looked up at him.

He held her eye, fell into those bottomless ebony pools and saw the jagged cuts and tears that he had caused.  Another lie.  He'd never leave her.  He'd always stay.  It was his penance.

"Happy Valentine's Day."

*****

K, this wasn't my favorite.  I guess I'm not a comfortable cynic! 

Today's prompt:

Its late on Feb 14th. Your character has just realised that they have forgotten Valentines Day and the affiliated expectations surrounding it. What excuse or reason are they going to give to their partner?

To play along, visit Write Anything's [Fiction] Friday here.