A more bitter than sweet Valentine's

By Elson Trinidad

You want a Valentine's Day story? I'll give you a Valentine's Day story.

Let us turn back the clock, to the tumultuous year of 1992. February, to be exact. Floods just submerged parts of the city and the riots were soon to follow.

But in early 1992, I thought everything was okay. I was in love with a beautiful young woman who was my entire world. Every moment with her was like a moment in heaven. The days were sunny, the skies were clear. Her eyes, her smile, her sweet tenderness made everything complete.

We were both college students - she, at Cal State Northridge, and I, a newly-arrived transfer to USC. Everything in our relationship was fine except for one thing: The Big Secret.

She, like me, had a Filipino-American upbringing, only hers was more strict - she was forbidden to have a boyfriend. But she ignored her parents' wishes and kept The Big Secret.

Then things got worse. Her grades plummeted, and when her family got wind of it, The Big Secret had to be revealed.

Her parents instantly put restrictions on her, the biggest one being that we were not allowed to communicate for an entire month.

I was a devastated man. Until I found out I was allowed to visit her for one dat - Valentine's Day.

I became very excited. Valentine's Day is traditionally a very lonely day for me, but this particular time was an exception. So I bought a card, a dozen long-stemmed red roses (for about $50!), got my hair cut and drove to her house - 70 miles away in the Antelope Valley.

I intended to make the most of the day, but the moment I set foot in her house, I knew something wasn't right.

I came all dressed up, she in plain clothes. But I didn't mind. After all, I loved her. We sat on her living room couch and talked, talked about all the time that was missed. When no one else was in the room, we held hands, only to quickly let go when someone walked in.

Then I met her parents. I wondered how such a beautiful person could be born from such evil creatures.

But after her father left, I held her hand, looked into her eyes and told her that although things won't be the way they used to be, we could still be together. She looked at me and gave me a reassuring smile.

Then it was time to go. The sun set over the mountains, casting long shadows on the desert floor. We embraced, bid each other goodbye and she kissed me very briefly.

Then I drove home, sullen. But I kept trying to remind myself that in time, things will be okay, and that, albeit awkwardly, I finally spent Valentine's Day with someone I loved.

That was the very last day I would ever see her.