Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

My Funny Valentine

Elmwood Springs, Missouri

February 14, 1976

The second morning Dena had another visitor. At eight o’clock, Dr. Gerry O’Malley arrived at the front door, dressed as a fifteenth-century troubadour complete with pink tights and a plumed hat, and carrying a dozen red roses and a mandolin. Macky came to the door. “Hi. Can I help you?”

Gerry felt like a complete fool now that he was actually here but he was determined to go through with it. “Mr. Warren, I am a friend of Dena’s and I wonder if I could see her for just a few minutes?”

“She’s upstairs. Can I tell her who—or what—is here?”

“Uh, well … it’s sort of a Valentine’s thing. A surprise.”

“OK. Wait just a second. I’ll see if I can get her down here.”

As Macky passed Norma, who had come out from the kitchen, he said, under his breath, “You’re not going to believe what’s out on the porch.”

Gerry spread the roses in front of the door and went down and stood waiting for Dena in the yard. He caught a glimpse of a woman sneaking a look at him from the living room window, but it wasn’t Dena.

Dena was still sound asleep when Macky knocked.

“Baby Girl, there is somebody downstairs to see you.”

Dena woke up, startled. “What?”

“There is somebody here to see you.”

Dena sat up in bed. “Who?”

“He said it’s a surprise. He has something for you.”

“Oh. Can you just get it for me?”

“No … I don’t think so. I think you need to go down and get it yourself.”

Dena got out of bed and put on her robe. Downstairs, Macky had to pull Norma away from the window. “Come on, Miss Busybody, let’s go in the kitchen.”

She did not want to move. “One of us should stay here. What if he’s a crazy person? He might be dangerous, Macky!”

Macky laughed. “He’s crazy, all right, but he’s not dangerous.”

“How do you know?”

“Because the poor guy’s out there shaking like a leaf.”

Dena came downstairs and went to the door. She did not see anybody at first but she looked down and saw roses spread out in a big heart-shaped design with a card in the middle. As soon as she walked out on the porch, she heard music. She saw Gerry O’Malley standing in the yard dressed in some idiotic costume playing a mandolin and singing something about love. She could not believe her eyes.

As she stood there in her robe shivering in the cold, as the neighbors started peering out their windows one by one, she could hardly believe what she was seeing or hearing.

After his song he took off his hat and bowed and drove off, leaving her standing, still in a sleepy daze, trying to figure out what Gerry O’Malley was doing in Elmwood Springs, Missouri, at eight o’clock in the morning. Or was she having some sort of hallucination? She reached down and picked up the card and read it.

NO PRESSURE, JUST KNOW I ADORE YOU!

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

LOVE, GERRY

She picked up the roses and went back inside. Norma poked her head around the kitchen corner. “Would your friend like to come in? He’s perfectly welcome.”

“No, that’s OK. He’s gone. Here’re some flowers if you want them.”

“Oh, aren’t they beautiful! I’ll put them in a vase and you can have them in your room. Well, wasn’t he nice to bring you these. He seemed like a very nice person,” said Norma, just dying to know who he was but not asking.

Dena started back upstairs. “He’s nice, but I’m beginning to think he’s a little crazy or something.”

Norma shot back into the kitchen and said to Macky, who was having a cup of coffee, “See, what did I tell you. Baby Girl thinks he’s a crazy person, too. I told you but you never believe me.” She looked at the flowers as she reached under the counter for a container. “But they are pretty roses, I don’t care what you say.”

“I haven’t said a word, Norma.”

Gerry was about twenty miles outside of Elmwood Springs and still a little nervous and shaky when, going ten miles over the speed limit, he passed a Missouri highway trooper. The trooper slugged down the last of his coffee and took the last bite of his maple doughnut, turned on his siren, and started after the offending vehicle. Gerry heard the siren, looked in his rearview mirror, and his heart stopped. There was not another car for miles around. For a split second, he wondered if he should try and make a run for it, but he was a good citizen so he just groaned and pulled over.

The trooper, a big man, got out, coughed, and walked slowly over to the car. “Good morning,” he said pleasantly.

As soon as the trooper looked in, he wondered what in the world he had stopped out here on Interstate 34. Gerry tried to sound normal. “Good morning. What’s the problem, Officer?”

“Could I see your registration and driver’s license, please, sir.”

“It’s a rented car. I rented it this morning in Kansas City, and my license is in the backseat in my jacket. Can I get it?”

The trooper was taking no chances. “How about stepping out of the car for me, please, sir.”

Gerry got out and opened the back door and took his license out of his wallet and handed it to the trooper, who read it and said, as calmly as possible under the circumstances, considering his white male perp had on pantaloons and shoes that curled up on the ends with bells on them, looking as if he had just fallen off a parade float somewhere: “Wait right here for me while I run a check on your license.”

Gerry stood by the car praying that nobody would drive by, but of course they did and all the cars and one truck slowed down while the drivers stared. A few minutes later the trooper came back. “Well, you don’t seem to be much of a criminal, other than speeding on the interstate a few minutes ago.” He handed Gerry his license.

“Thank you. Could I please get back in the car?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

Gerry’s shoes jingled when he got back in.

The trooper said, “We don’t get too many men wearing pink tights out here in Jefferson County, so I’d like to know if there is some reason you’re wearing that rig or is that just how you guys in New York dress?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, I’m in no hurry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Gerry said, “Look, are you married?”

“Yep. Nobody escapes that out here. I got caught and hog-tied just like the rest of them. Why?”

“Then you know today’s Valentine’s Day.”

The trooper looked at him, waiting. “Yeah?”

“I’m sure you must do something special for your wife. You know, to surprise her.”

“She gets a card out of me every year but that’s about all the fuss I make. If I was to show up dressed in that, she’d think I was two bricks short of a load for sure.”

“I just flew down here to surprise my … well … the one I hope will be my girlfriend.”

The trooper nodded. “Yeah. I should have figured right off there was some female involved. You’re a thirty-five-year-old man and she’s got you dressed up like a circus show dog, son.”

Gerry had no defense. “Well, what can I say?”

“That’s quite an outfit. Where did you come by that?”

“I rented it.”

“Huh. I wonder what she thinks.”

“Well, I can be pretty safe in assuming that right now she thinks I’m pretty silly.”

“I’d have to agree with her there, buddy. What if she hadn’t been at home? That would have been a waste. Why didn’t you plan to stay awhile?”

“It’s a long story,” said Gerry.

“Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m trying not to pressure her.”

“Uh-huh.”

“She is not sure about how she feels about me.”

“I see. And what do you think your chances are? Fifty percent, twenty-five percent?”

“I’d say maybe twenty-five percent.”

The trooper pointed to the hat on the seat by the mandolin.

“Is that the hat that goes with it?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if I have a look?”

Gerry handed it to him. “No. Here.”

The trooper examined it carefully. “Is this a velvet of some kind?”

“I guess so. Or maybe a kind of velveteen?”

“What kind of feather do you reckon this is?”

“I have no idea, but I think it’s some sort of plume.”

The trooper was intrigued. “A plume. Well, I’ll be dogged.” He handed it back. “What was it that made you decide to dress up in … that getup?”

“I don’t know. Thought it might be romantic or something. You know women like to be romanced.”

“I wouldn’t know. My wife told me when we were getting married: there wasn’t no romance to it. Did you wear that outfit on the plane?”

“No, I stopped at a gas station and changed.” Gerry was losing his patience. “Look, is all this really necessary? Can’t you just give me a ticket and let me go? Or put me in jail or whatever it is you are going to do.”

“Now, calm down, fella. I ain’t gonna give you a ticket.” He laughed. “I’ll tell you one thing. You wouldn’t stand a chance if I was to throw you in jail; dressed like that you might get a hell of a lot more romance than you bargained for. They get pretty lonely in there and you’d probably look cute as hell to some of them, dressed up in them pink tights. No, I was just curious. How long have you been chasing after this female of yours?”

Gerry was relieved he was not getting a ticket, but his nerves were shot by this time. “A year or so. Or more. Do you mind if I smoke?”

“No, go right ahead.”

Gerry offered the officer a cigarette.

“No, thanks. I quit them things. Now, here’s the deal. As I understand it, all right? You flew in from New York City, drove all the way here, stopped and put on that rig, just to sing one song to a woman who may or may not be interested. That right?”

“More or less, yes.”

“You say you rented it. Where?”

“In New York at a theatrical costume shop.”

“Are you some kind of actor?”

“No. I’m a … well, no, I’m not an actor.”

“What’s it supposed to be?”

“It’s a … troubadour outfit. You know, it comes with a doublet and pantaloons. It goes way back in history.”

The trooper said, “Like Robin Hood times?”

“No, earlier. Fifteenth century, I think. Or at least that’s what they said.”

The trooper looked at the mandolin on the seat. “You a musician? Can you play that thing?”

“No, not really. I just learned one song.”

“Oh, yeah? Which one?”

“It’s an old English madrigal. Do you know what a madrigal is?”

“Sure, I know what a madrigal is. What’s it called?”

“You’ve probably never heard of it.”

“Try me.”

Gerry mumbled, “ ‘Thou Art My Fair Lady Love.’ ”

“Give me that again?”

“ ‘Thou Art My Fair Lady Love,’ ” he said a bit louder.

“Nope. Don’t know that one. Was she surprised?”

“I’m sure she was.”

“What did she say?”

“She didn’t say anything. I just gave her the roses, sang the song, and left.”

“Uh-huh. And now you are going to drive back to Kansas City, get on a plane, and fly home. All in one day.”

“Yes.”

“How much is this trip gonna set you back?”

“I don’t know exactly.”

“Give me a ballpark figure.”

“Well, I guess with the plane, the car rental, flowers … renting the costume … and the mandolin … maybe five or six hundred dollars, give or take.”

“Whoa. Do you have a picture?”

“A picture?”

“Yeah. I want to see a picture of this female of yours.”

“No, not with me. I do at home.”

“Is she a blonde, a redhead, or what?”

“A blonde.”

“Oh, well, there you go. They’ll do it every time.”

“She’s a beautiful girl but that’s not all there is to it. She’s extremely intelligent and bright. She’s not a dumb blonde by any means if that’s what you think.”

The trooper shook his head. “You are in love, ain’t you, buddy? You’re not such a bad-looking guy. What’s her objection?”

“Well, for one thing,” Gerry said, “she thinks I’m sort of dull.”

“Dull? You may be a lot of things, fella, but dull ain’t one of them.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“If it was me, I’d look around for somebody who knew for sure they liked me, date some other gals, play the field.”

“I tried that. It didn’t work. No, unfortunately, she’s the one. I don’t know if I’m the one for her, you know? So all I can do is wait.”

“Yeah, I see your point.”

The trooper put his hands on his belt and looked down the road. “Well … I’m glad it ain’t me. I’m set in the female department. Have been ever since Edna decided I was her intended victim.”

Gerry said hopefully, “Can I go?”

“Wait a minute.” He took out his pad and started writing.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to give me a ticket.”

The trooper, without looking up, replied, “I ain’t. But you got me curious on how this thing is gonna turn out.” He handed Gerry a card. “This is my home address. How about dropping me a line and letting me know what happens. OK?”

Gerry took it and read:

Trooper Ralph Childress

Route 173

Arden, Missouri

“All right.”

“Go on now, but watch that speed limit, you hear?”

Trooper Childress stood and watched as the man drove away. He thought: I sure would have loved to have taken him in; the boys would never have believed it. He got back in his patrol car and jotted down his report. February 14, 8:36 A.M. Detained white male. Lovesick fifteenth-century troubadour in pink tights, pantaloons, and doublet. He wondered how to spell doublet, crossed it out, and added, Hat with plume and shoes that curled up on the end with tiny bells. First offense. Let off with warning.