I felt the cool Pennsylvania breeze hit my face as I stepped down the steps of Bryn Mawr College. I hurriedly pulled my jacket tighter across my shoulders as the breeze grew stronger, sending a chill down my spine. Everyone about me walked quickly as did I, desperate to get home and relieve myself of the pain that only comes from hours in heels. I tried to diminish the feelings of pain by distracting myself with the lecture from earlier that day. My mind was coated with numbers and phrases that blended into one another. As hard as I tried, my mind drifted onto a different matter, specifically the disastrous dinner hosted by my mother the previous night.

Usually, when my mother had me for dinner, the presence of a young man my age, who just happened to be attractive and educated, had slipped her mind to mention to me and resulted in a polite but painfully awkward conversation. Either they were too casual or too pompous, too timid or too conceited, but all of them shared a quality. They were all mediocre, and I, still having many faults, was anything but. During a particularly irate altercation with a man who might just be the vainest person to exist, I happened to scream at him, “Ugh, you dreadful, loathsome coxcomb!”, which earned an incredulous gasp from my mother and the man leaving at an alarming speed. However, on this previous occasion, it was slightly different. 

When I had arrived at my mother’s house, I let myself in silently and observed my possible suitor and my mother interacting. He didn’t seem rude or disrespectful but wasn’t timid. He helped set the table and made my mother laugh obnoxiously, which was uncommon for her, usually maintaining her rigid, ladylike manner. He seemed educated, making intelligent comments and I couldn’t deny the fact that he was handsome. He had dark hair and a bright smile which just happened to fall into an agape mouth when he noticed my presence. His demeanor changed and he became nervous and fidgety, which disappointed me greatly. At the end of the dinner, my hope had diminished completely, due to his silent and generally cold existence at the table.

I snapped back to reality when I arrived at my flat and saw a brown parcel at the foot of my door. I fumbled with my keys and pushed open the door with my foot as I tightly gripped the box, balancing my bag on my shoulder. I took a few steps inside and quickly kicked the door closed, rushing to the counter to place the unknown package down. I looked at it from all sides before I took a knife and carelessly sliced the tape sealing the parcel, admonishing myself seconds later for cutting my finger. I slowly opened the box and I knew what was enclosed before I saw it, due to the smell alone, roses. There, at the bottom of the box, sat a bouquet of roses in wonderful colors that left me in awe. I then noticed a small note in the middle of the posy and it read, 

“Dear Ms. Helen Ollen,

  I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved at the dinner yesterday. I know I came off as distant and fiddly and I would just like to say that what you saw is not my usual demeanor. I usually can carry on a conversation and I pride myself on my ability to make others amused. The description your mother gave of you frankly frightened me and to be quite honest, you intimidated me. I would consider it an honor to have another chance and if you would, I would love to take you on a date. Preferably without your mother, and as soon as possible, maybe tomorrow. I hope you can reconsider your opinion of me and if not,  I might have just made an absolute fool of myself. I will be eagerly awaiting your reply.

Signed,

Raymond Miller”

I didn’t realize a wide smile had spread across my face until I put down the letter and felt a soreness creep across my cheeks. I ran to the small desk I had in the corner of my bedroom and grabbed a piece of paper, eagerly writing my acceptance of his proposition. Once I finished writing, I read his letter, again and again, joy spreading through my veins every time I read it. I always thought that my work would be the most important thing to me and while it still was, I decided that other things could make me happy as well if I let them. Basking in my giddiness, I wrote a letter to my friend, who lived a town or two over, and planned to make a phone call to my friend in Maine as soon as I could. My career and school had taken up my life for years, but just this once, I allowed my large pile of homework to sit in my pack as this new rush consumed my thoughts.