It all came to a head three years ago when flying in Ecuadorian roses for your girlfriend had suddenly become de rigueur, unbeknownst to some of Brunswick’s less attentive boyfriends, and Mavis C. called out Bridget B. on it: “Hey Bridget, I heard your roses aren’t even from Ecuador!” The two girls went after each other with field hockey sticks in the hallway and the fight resulted in a bloody lip, a fractured collarbone, and fifteen stitches. (HEY BRIDGET … T-shirts and hats were later sold, raising two grand for the Senior Skip Day trip.) The school’s Valentine’s Day policy now dictated that deliveries could only arrive at 8 A.M., noon, and 2 P.M. and were sent to the school’s performing arts center. Girls were permitted to see (but not post pics of) whatever was sent to them, but nothing could be removed from the theater until the end of the school day.

When Anna walked into the school’s five-hundred-seat theater, she was overwhelmed by the smell of roses. As it was close to the first-period bell, the theater wasn’t that crowded anymore. Anna walked up to Coach Sykes, who was on morning flower duty and wearing a lavender HEY BRIDGET T-shirt. Coach Sykes scanned her clipboard and told Anna she had two deliveries. Anna explained that she was leaving for the day so she’d be taking them with her now. She signed by her name and was told her gifts were in the number eleven section onstage.

For the past two years, Alexander had sent Anna a box of two dozen long-stemmed red roses, but she had specifically told him not to bother when they’d had dinner on Sunday night. She had taken the train to Westport to meet him at their favorite French bistro for a pre-Valentine’s Day meal and they’d celebrate again in two weeks when she went to Cambridge to visit him. As usual they were the youngest people in the restaurant and Alexander had arranged for roses to arrive for her during dessert. Alexander was always thoughtful, but somehow his gestures never felt very romantic, which Anna couldn’t quite explain.

The big fuss over Valentine’s Day was not something Anna fully got. Sure, she understood the appeal of flowers and presents, but at the age of seventeen she had received more incredible bouquets than most women would ever get in their lifetimes. And the perfunctory formality of this holiday always made her feel weird and a little hollow at times. Also, depending on her mood, cut flowers made Anna feel melancholy. It seemed sad to watch something so beautiful die just for her own pleasure.