Ash Valentine

An introduction to the Novella

Ash Valentine

By

Urban F. Legend

               The gossip had reached a fever pitch in the open office concept, as Rebecca Francis filed away some paper into a folder labeled very important documents. Rebecca liked everything neat and orderly. Though her cubicle provided little privacy, she had everything she needed right in front of her: a smartphone, twin monitors, a laptop, a mouse, etc. All items were purchased from her parent company Basic Boss. Yes, she was basic. Being basic was her superpower. If she was a car, basic was her fuel. She certainly had no qualms about it. She did, however, care that one item was missing from her desk. A rose.

As Rebecca turned her gaze to look around the office of Basic Boss PR, practically every girl had one. Even one of the feminine guys in IT had one. And just what did Saundra Saturn do to deserve not one, but two bouquets? She journaled these concerns along with a list of who had dinner reservations in her Basic Moleskin Graph Paper Notebook ($9.99). As she tried to make sense of it all, her boss stopped by and hovered over her desk.

“Grabbing dinner with my husband down the street,” her boss Alex Joy said as she stopped, resting one hand and wrist on Rebecca’s cubicle. “Oh, that sounds delightful,” Rebecca said without looking up as she dropped her pen and closed her notebook. Her eyes met her boss’s, “Hopefully something fancy?”

“I dunno if you call Madison’s fancy, but it’s reliably consistent,” Alex said as she laid her other hand on her forehead. Rebecca agreed. “Oh yeah, I love the butter they add to seemingly every menu item.”

“How about you? Where are you off to this evening?” Rebecca paused and got tripped up in her response. Her boss’s demeanor turned to horror. “Oh, no. No dinner date?” Rebecca didn’t have to confirm. Her facial response said it all. “Rebecca, you are gorgeous. Every guy in this town should be lining up to buy you dinner. Especially on Valentine’s Day.”

Rebecca nervously laughed. “So you’d think,” while gazing over at the crowd surrounding Saundra who was still going on about her bouquets of Roses and where they came from.

“Seriously, Rebecca, you need to try out one of those dating apps if you haven’t already. How do you think Saundra Saturn got those flowers?” Rebecca couldn’t even offer a solution. “She’s getting free dinner 3 times a week. At least. The C suite sees her at Brady’s all the time.”

“Wow, really? Brady’s is fancy.”

“It sure is. Hey, I’m not saying rob these hard-working men of their keep three times a week like that greedy devil Saundra, but it wouldn’t hurt to try it once a month. Maybe you end up liking one of them. Or they’re rich. The odds are in your favor the more at-bats you get. Right?”

“Yeah. That’s a good point. You know what, I’ll give it a go.”

“Great. You know, if I didn’t have that intel from the C suite, I’d be willing to bet she paid for the flowers to be sent here herself. That’s definitely what the gay guy in IT does. I saw the receipt.” Rebecca shifts her focus to Raheem who sniffs his roses and smiles. “Wow. Well played, Raheem. Well played.” Alex taps Rebecca’s desk and takes off. “OK, don’t stay here too late. Have fun finding Mr. Right Now. Good night.”

“Roger, boss,” Rebecca said while nervously flexing her arms above her head and entangling her hands together as if to stretch confidently. Rebecca packed away her items, looked over at the manufactured hysteria, and tossed her purse over her shoulder. She smiled. A girl on a mission.

The moment Rebecca stepped outside of her office building, the skies opened delivering a heavy, wet rain. She flipped open her company-embroidered umbrella, which broke at once. Another one bites the dust. Undeterred, Rebecca stepped to the other side of the sidewalk and grabbed today’s issue of Rapid News which she promptly used to shield her head. Off to the races. But the walking lanes were jammed.

Rebecca attempted to navigate her way around the bevy of what she referred to as Uprights. Although these individuals could stand upright like humans, that’s where the comparison stopped. There was simply nothing going on up there. A visible trance. Like a permanent highway hypnosis, but in the form of a walking commuter. Often she wondered if they were human at all. When inclement weather was introduced, they were sure to malfunction. And tonight, they did.

Rebecca made her way to a busy crosswalk. Every direction she looked told her the same story. Traffic was at a total standstill and with the downpour, it wouldn’t be changing anytime soon. At this rate, it would be a good two-hour drive to the suburbs for these poor bastards. A glimpse into any of the dashboards revealed a lot about humanity. None of the good stuff. Yet for some reason, many of these drivers applied their hands to the center of the steering wheel and made use of their horns. Maybe they thought if they all honked, it would cancel out the thunderstorm and clogged lanes entirely. I’m sure it was hard for them to make sense of their predicament. The deviation from the norm certainly made no sense to the lobotomized Uprights, who disobeyed all crosswalk laws. If this were the 1990s, Jay Leno would have stopped them in their tracks. But this was a Commute Storm, there would be no comedic interviews and there would be no enforcement of laws.

Rebecca’s goal? Get home for a date with her couch and the latest drop on Streamer. But to get there, she needed to prioritize this real-life game of Frogger and reach the other side of the ten-lane road (Basic Boss Priority Checklist, Subscribers Only). Rebecca couldn’t believe her eyes as she saw the Uprights bump into cars that weren’t moving. One Upright even tried to get into an idling car that wasn’t a taxi or a rideshare service. When one of the honkers vehemently told the Upright to beat it, the Upright responded with nothing but a blank stare and kept walking. It was chilling to witness for Rebecca, who now found herself blinded by the plethora of headlights in her orbit. This addition to the equation left her falling prey to a brief bout of her own Uprightism. Was it the lights? Fortunately, it didn’t last long as another Upright bumped into her, snapping her out of her hypnosis. In what felt like an eternity, she finally made it across the street to her first checkpoint. The Subway Station.

Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief. A buzz in her jacket pocket. “Rebecca, it’s Mom,” the text read. Rebecca shook her head and muttered to herself. “Mom, I know it’s you.” The text continued. “See you for Ash Wednesday Mass. 7 p.m. at Holy Cross Church.” Rebecca stomped her feet on the ground. “Ugh, I forgot,” Rebecca said as her head fell up to the Subway awning. “Fuck me,” she said elevating her voice.

“Right here?” roared a large fellow, prompting Rebecca to bring her back to level revealing a grisly-looking homeless man. “Give me a second to get my room tidy,” the homeless man said as he made his way over to his makeshift home where he indeed was tidying up. She winced in disgust and then glanced at her mother’s message once more. Then the digital clock on her phone. It was already 6:30. Her mother would be devastated if she didn’t show. But she knew she had to go. Her presence was expected. Finding Mr. Right Now would have to wait.

“Hey, where ya going,” the homeless man yelled after her. “I thought we had a date!”

She emerged from the shelter the subway station provided and saw the sign:

HOLY CROSS – 2 miles

A deep breath followed. And just like that, it was back to the Iron Rain.

After a mile of walking, the church bells could be heard reverberating off the city buildings. She confirmed with her Basic Boss Smart Watch ($99.99 — available online only). 7 p.m. A drenched Rebecca pushed through the downpour and powered on toward her destination.

Finally, she had arrived. The last mile was pure misery. But she had a date with Jesus. And her mother.

Between her and the church were three flights of stairs. Suddenly another homeless man appeared. This one was hawking Red Roses. Oh, no. He was approaching her. “Hello, Miss. May I offer you a flower?” Rebecca didn’t stop and made her way up the stairs. So too did the homeless man. Finally, Rebecca felt like she had to indulge the vagrant. “Don’t you mean a rose,” Rebecca quipped.

“Ah, yes, a beautiful Red Rose for a beautiful young woman,” the man said. The compliment landed. “Thank you, that’s nice. But sorry I don’t have any money.”

The homeless man pressed. “Your money’s no good here. You’re a woman of the Church.”

Rebecca went for the door. “Well, not re—.” The man puts his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it. Rebecca went for her purse. Did she have her Basic Boss Pepper Spray ($74.99, refills $9.99) on her? Would she be okay?

“Please. Miss.” A shocked Rebecca tried to assess the situation. She froze.

“No one should be alone on Valentine’s Day. Take the rose.”

Rebecca looked him in the eyes once more and snatched the rose, hopeful this would defuse the predicament. And just like that, the man released his hand from the door allowing her to enter the halls of grace.

“Have a blessed evening, miss,” the homeless man said as a silent Rebecca watched the door close separating the two. What just happened?

The homeless man smirked as he walked away from the church. His work, whatever that may be, was done.

Back inside the Church, Rebecca found herself in the Church’s small but serviceable lobby. She could hear the Mass over the speakers hanging on the lobby’s ceiling. She instantly remembered times her father brought her back here when she was a misbehaving toddler. Pleasant memories. Then she noticed the Palm Drop Box. More memories began flooding back. The church from her childhood had a unique practice where they requested that the parishioners bring the palms distributed from the previous year to be burned on the altar and turned into ashes. She used to love bringing the palms in for the ceremony, often buying extra palms at the store. This time around, she had no palm to give. Then she felt a prick on her hand. She felt her newly acquired rose in her hand. This was not the rose she desired. She wanted no part of it. She started to think it could have germs on it from the homeless man. Yuck. Before letting the thoughts take hold any longer, she discarded the rose into the palm bin. Two birds, one stone. Like a boss.

Rebecca made her way through the second set of lobby doors and down the aisle quietly trying not to make any noise as the priest addressed the audience. “…in a time of Ghosts,” Father James Bonner spoke his homily. “In the Catholic faith, the woman’s role is to bear children and start a family – not start a business. But alas, this is where modern love has brought us. Both man. And woman. Each busy. After all, business equals “busy-ness.” Each working a career. Each pursuing the promotional ladder. Separated from one another. While ignoring their place together. And if they are lucky enough to find one another at all, the problem persists, and then the children — the children, they feel neglect.”

Finally, she found her mother midway down the row who waved her into the church pew. As Rebecca sat down near her mother, a puddle of rainwater left her coat and surrounded her Basic Boss Boots ($149.99).

“Most of the time though, the family is never started. Each man. And each woman. Today, they say they strive for their match. They ignore the will of God and put their faith into a computer, hoping it will spit out the perfect match. But for the believer in this type of science, the perfect match will never be found. There will always need to be more data to be considered and thus more matches. They begin to not just think, rather they believe that the perfect match is just one swipe away. It is the never-ending pursuit of perfection. I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the perfect match does not exist. How do I know this? Because only He is perfect. Yes, He being our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. So, on this sacred day of both Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day, let us choose to fast – not only from food and water – but from the behaviors that led us astray, alone, and without our forever Valentine. And for those that have found our forever Valentine, take a moment to look at them and be grateful that God led you to one another,” Father Bonner paused to give everyone a moment as Rebecca’s mother made the sign of the cross and looked up to the heavens to bless her late husband.

“For me, it’s easy. My valentine is Christ,” Father Bonner said with a laugh causing the audience to laugh as well. “For those of you who do not choose to serve Christ in the way my fellow Brothers and Sisters do, and who have not found your Valentine, please know that He has a plan for you, your spouse, and of course your family. Though these additions may not exist in front of you today, they are part of God’s plan for you. And they will enter your life when you least expect it.”

“Praise to you Lord Jesus Christ.”

“Thanks be to God,” said the congregation in response.

Father Bonner turned away from the crowd and back to his chair on the altar, where he sat momentarily and then stood up. Rebecca’s mother gave her a look. “Did you hear that? I think the priest was speaking to you. He sure was looking at you.”

“Mom, you’re not allowed to talk during mass.”

“Oh, my,” Mrs. Francis exclaimed while making the signing the cross. “Lord, please forgive me. I am so sorry.” Rebecca snickered to herself.

The priest continued his blessing and invited practicing Catholics up to receive communion. At her mother’s nudging, Rebecca exited the aisle to receive the Eucharist. “Please join along with our processional hymn, page 38,” said a familiar-sounding voice, who then proceeded to sing the same Communion song from her youth. Rebecca remembered that voice. It belonged to Natalie Bello, one of her fellow elementary school classmates and the preacher’s kid. Natalie’s voice had transcended humanity and become angelic. Does it get any more Boss than that?

Rebecca was on deck. After the parishioner in front of her took their communion, she stepped up to the plate and held out her hands.

“The Body of Christ,” said Father Bonner said as he offered her the Eucharist.

Rebecca held out her overlapping hands and accepted. Father Bonner then laid the Eucharist in her palms. Rebecca took the communion wafer and ate it. Her mother proudly followed behind her. Each chew brought Rebecca back to the good days. It was the first time she had had communion in years. Something about it felt so right. So relaxing. Almost like a re-run of Friends. “The One Where Rebecca Revisits Her Catholic School Faith.” Yeah, that sounds right. Mental notes for her journal. The experience gave her peace. 10 out of 10.

The altar boys and girls began the procession of the palms to begin the Ash Wednesday ceremony. They loaded them into a special incinerator they used only for this occasion. The smell transcended time and space, evoking a special memory from her childhood — bringing her back to a time when she was young enough for her dad to still hold her up in his arms. Rebecca and her father were already complete with ashes on their forehead. But that didn’t stop Young Rebecca from mimicking the priest and marking her father’s forehead over and over smearing the ashes across his face. This caused her father to laugh. And her to giggle in return. Helen tried to quiet them, but she couldn’t help laughing too. Simpler times. Happier times.

Today’s Ash Wednesday ceremony continued. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust that you shall return.” How uplifting she thought. Rebecca did not seem as eager to get ashes painted on her forehead as an adult. In her moment of doubt, she again looked to her mother who gave her the directive to get up and get blessed. Time to get it over with.

Rebecca followed behind her mother who received the blessing. Upon Rebecca’s return, Father Bonner ran out of ashes forcing him to pause the ceremony momentarily to retrieve another container of ashes. When Father Bonner returned, he too blessed Rebecca with a cross on the forehead.

“Remember that you are dust, and to dust that you shall return.”

Even heavier words when they are individually directed at you. Ashes for the first time in nearly two decades. Rebecca took a deep breath and rounded the corner to return to her seat when she saw a young girl who reminded her of herself at that age. All felt alright. Rebecca walked back into the door of her past and found her stress levels reducing to a time before her days as a Basic Boss.

Everyone kneeled while the priest finished the ceremony. They continued to do so until he gave the signal that everyone could sit. Not long after, he asked that everyone please stand to address Holy Cross Church a final time this evening. Rebecca felt good. It was as if she was getting a workout in. A blog post idea popped into her head. Who needs calisthenics when you have the Catholic Church? Filing under Basic Boss Tip Of The Day.

“Please remember that today marks the beginning of Lent. Please take this time to make sacrifices in your life and create a closer relationship with God. The mass has ended. Please go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”

Rebecca and her mother shared a smile. That’s when her mother noticed.

“Thanks be to –”

The ashes had turned to blood on Rebecca’s forehead.

A Holy Cross indeed.

But A Red Cross.

“Oh my God!” Mrs. Francis yelled out.

Members of the Church gasped!

Chatter built nearly as fast as the puddle of blood that now had replaced the rainwater at her feet. She was bleeding badly.

The congregation stood there watching. Paralyzed by fear.

Blood then began to shoot from her forehead several feet in all directions.

“Please someone call an ambulance,” Mrs. Francis yelled out.

Two altar boys answered the call, running over to help. One of them immediately placed their hand on the wound to apply pressure. The other sat Rebecca down on the pew. One of them removed their robe and began applying pressure with the cloth. It was quickly covered in red as if it was a watercolor painting. Blood continued dripping from the cloth’s end onto the pew.

Father Michael, the assistant priest, began to run to the back when Father Bonner put his wrist in front of him to stop his momentum. “Father Michael,” Father Bonner said softly. “After you call the ambulance, place a call to the Bishop’s office.”

“The bishop? Why?” Father Michael asked.

“I believe our Church bears witness to a miracle,” Father Bonner suggested.

Father Michael appeared confused before looking back over toward the commotion surrounding Rebecca. The dots connected and the priests shared a smile. God had visited their church this evening.

The story continues.

Continue reading Part Two via the link below.

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