Valerie

He unfolded a black chair and put the acoustic on his knee; he closed his eyes and ran his fingers across the strings. It was out of tune, warped from the weather. He tightened the strings and worked them back to life, the sound becoming sweet.
It was 9 pm on a frigid Thursday in November. The cold garage floor awakened him. Old boxes of music he’d just uncovered surrounded Mark.
“Can’t you commit to anything?” She asked four nights ago.
“Val, three years is a commitment. I am committed to you.”
“Make it official. We are in our thirties, Mark. I want children, let’s get this show on the road.”
But it was too late. Valerie was gone, took her show on the road, leaving Mark behind. Mark had, and still did, love her. He never noticed any real problems between the two of them, until Valerie would explode over a late night dinner or during a sports program. She always said the same thing.
“Hello, don’t you see that I’m here too?” Or “Mark, I worked on this dinner all afternoon, can’t you at least be on time or call me?”
Mark didn’t understand trivial matters, like calling. After all, they lived together.
In the garage, he moved onto the sky blue Fender and plugged in the amp; reveling in its static start. Mark moved about the garage, laughing at the chords he remembered and the songs his fingers had memorized. It was college again, only this time he was alone in his garage in his boxers.
Valerie was never a music lover like Mark. He’d grown up in a house, always listening to jazz and blues. He moved through stages of interest, but played some rock in college with three of his buddies. They mainly did open-mic-nights and frat parties, but it was some of the most fun Mark had.
The phone rang. Mark listened through the garage door that lead into the kitchen to hear the answering machine. 
“You’ve reached Mark and Val, leave us a message and we’ll get back to you.”
“Hey…it’s me, again…Mark, if you’re there please answer, I left, but please, I really want to talk to you.” Valerie sighed and then hung up.
Mark met Val in college, they had a few classes together. They were never close until after graduation; they kept running into each other at coffee shops. Then, Val was bubbly and spontaneous. She was a dream. She’d show up unannounced with a homemade casserole and a bottle of wine, which they always enjoyed over a game of Scrabble. They fit together. When Mark was out with Valerie, he could take over the city.
The relationship moved quickly, but it was natural, until they moved in together. Valerie became so buttoned-up all the time. She never wanted to relax and was always bringing up lunch conversations she had with her married friends. Those talks ended in Val muttering something about  “free milk” and then she would shake her bare ring finger in his face. Mark had never lived with a girlfriend before and didn’t know where to go from here.
Mark got back to his music. He cleared out boxes, finding different pedals he once used. Each one warped the  chords. Occasionally, he would standup and sing.
There was a knock on the garage door.
“Great,” Mark said to himself. “Someone’s pissed about the noise.”
Mark pulled up on the large door to see his friend and neighbor, Kyle standing in the driveway equipped with his black, triangular electric in hand.
“Hey man, wow, been awhile,” Mark said.
“I know,” Kyle said. “I heard some familiar music coming from out here, so I thought I’d join.”
Mark motioned Kyle into the garage and pulled the door down behind him.
 “Great, man. I ran into a little extra time on my hands and been digging up our old stuff,” Mark said.
“Yeah, I haven’t played this thing since ’95. Kim was a little agitated when she saw me leave the house with it.”
Mark laughed as he walked into the kitchen. “I bet. But you don’t have to stay late. It just feels good to hear it all again.”
Mark cracked a few beers and moved into the garage.
“Man you kept all of our stuff. I don’t remember half of it,” Kyle said.
“I know, but once you hear it, it really comes back.”
Mark plugged his guitar into an amp and started tuning. Mark worked the Fender, plugged in a pedal and went to it.
Kyle laughed. “Damn. It makes me want to address the crowd back at Killian’s. Remember that song we used to sing?”
“’Valerie’?” Mark asked. “Yeah…’stop makin’ a fool outta meee, why don’t cha come on over, Valerie.’”
Kyle laughed and strung along. “How ironic, right?”
“Well I guess, but I didn’t know any Valeries then. I’d change the name to some drunk girl in the crowd, remember?...’Since I’ve come home, well my body’s been a mess and I miss your ginger hair and the way you like to dress…’”
Hours later, Mark and Kyle had sung in the garage and jammed for an invisible crowd until the cold air had frozen.
“Kim saw Val at the grocery the other day, said what happened,” Kyle said. “Do you miss her? You haven’t said anything about her.”
“Of course I do. She was here for years, but we saw things differently.”
“Don’t you want a family? Children are so great, really, you should see Kim with ours.”
“It isn’t that. I wanted things to happen in its own time, you know?” Mark said. “Val would just act like everything was cool until I’d step out of line once, then all of the sudden we’d be fighting about marriage.”
“I better get home,” he said. “Maybe we’ll do this again.”
Mark said goodbye. It was quiet. Mark furrowed his brow and began to shuffle his sock feet through the house. He went through the living room, where she’d screamed at him nights prior. He walked into the kitchen where he’d left a pile of dishes —Valerie always did those. He shuffled down the hall where she’d torn their pictures off the wall on her way out. He passed shelves packed with books he’d only read half of; movies he hadn’t seen yet. He climbed into bed, hoping he wouldn’t smell her perfume in the bed. He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, but his mind was buzzing.
Mark didn’t have serious girlfriends in college. He had flings, but was concentrated on music or school instead. Mark could see himself marrying Val, but he wanted her to calm down so he could ask on his own time. He didn’t want to force such an important decision. He loved Val and liked the way he felt when he was with her— the old Val anyway. He didn’t know if those feelings would come back.
When Val left, it was a shock for Mark. He was emotional, but he just wanted her to be happy. So, he thought, if that’s what she wanted then so be it. Her calls were puzzling. Mark figured she was just remembering the past. After all, they couldn’t build a marriage off a fond memory.
The next morning, Mark was uncovering more instruments in his garage and dusting off record collections. Someone knocked on his front door. He crept to the large door, got on his tip-toes and peered through the rectangle window. There she was in her usual white coat. Her dark hair was pulled back, her eyes were squinting from the sun, and her red lips were pursed.
He walked through the garage to the foyer, opened the door, and stood.
“Hi,” Valerie said. “I heard loud music coming from the garage when I walked up.”
“Yeah, I was just playing some…” Mark said. “You okay? Or…did you forget something?”
“Oh, well no, at least I don’t think so,” she replied. “Can we talk?”
Mark took a deep breath.  She drew her hands across her chest.
“It is cold. Can I come in?”
Mark motioned toward the house. Valerie stepped inside moving toward the couch. Mark stood in the doorway.
“Right here is fine,” Mark said.
“Okay, well I’ve really missed you. I know we have different ways of showing how we care.”
Mark was silent.
“I mean maybe I can wait longer, I am only 32, you know?”
Mark smiled.
“Aren’t you going to say anything? Maybe you could even sing something since that’s what you’ve been doing since I left.”
Mark chuckled. “Wow, yeah, okay let me sing you something Val. I don’t think you should wait any longer,” he said. “If you want to get married and have children, then go do it.”
“What?” she asked.
“Yeah. You’ve always told me I can’t commit to anything. Maybe you’re right, sometimes. So I can’t finish a book or a television series, but if it’s something I care about, I do commit, but you don’t see it that way.”
Valerie stormed to the door, throwing her red nails in the air. Mark followed her and closed the door. He moved back to his record collection singing the cover song.
“Stop makin’ a fool outta me…Valerie…”