March 25, 2020
The Coconut
Goldfarb hated Valentine’s Day.
He had always hated Valentine’s Day.
Except for Grade 4. In Grade 4, his teacher, Miss Fitzgerald, had decreed that everyone would give everyone in the class a Valentine’s Day card. Goldfarb had received 22 cards. Many said, ‘Will you be my valentine?’
Grade 4 had been great.
Then, in Grade 5, Miss Wallace, having heard such good things about Miss Fitzgerald’s experiment, made the same decree.
But, by then, the kids had caught on. So they gave a second card to classmates they really wanted to give cards to.
In Grade 5, Goldfarb had received 22 cards from 22 classmates. But not a single second card from anyone—although, he had sent seven secondary cards himself.
Grade 5 had been shit.
Goldfarb had had girlfriends. In high school. In university. Not a lot. Some.
But never in February.
Twice a woman had broken up with him on February 10th.
Twice.
One got back together with him on the 18th.
But he had always been alone on Valentine’s Day.
Until Amanda.
And Amanda hated Valentine’s Day. But not for the same reason as Goldfarb. No, Amanda hated a holiday which she deemed to have been created solely for the benefit of Hallmark, florists, and chocolatiers.
Not only did she vehemently eschew flowers, chocolate and dinners. She rejected anything remotely associated with romance.
In other words, sex.
Every February 14th Goldfarb knew one thing for sure:
He would not be having sex.
Amanda was not a prude. She had been perfectly happy to have sex on Yom Kippur. “I’ll go brush my teeth.” “Okay, don’t swallow any water.”
But she had a thing about Valentine’s Day.
It actually put her in a bad mood.
Goldfarb hated Valentine’s Day.
So he woke up on February 14 with low or no expectations.
He turned on his phone.
Three Valentine’s Day emails.
From his dry cleaners.
From Nordstrom.
And from his mother.
As he was putting his phone down in order to make himself a cup of coffee, a text came in.
It was from Grace.
He hadn't heard from Grace since the whole ‘tulatski’ debacle. He had walked out of her apartment and they hadn't exchanged a word since. The text was short.
“Happy Valentine’s Day Harold 🥥”
It was followed by an emoji. It wasn’t a heart. She could have sent a heart. Valentine’s Day was the one day you could send a heart emoji without fear it would be misinterpreted.
But it wasn’t a heart.
Goldfarb expanded the screen and looked more closely.
It was, he was pretty sure, a coconut.
Goldfarb was not a complete luddite. He understood some of the social media vernacular. Lol, byb, lmfao (although that had taken him some time to figure out).
Netflix and chill.
He got it.
Nobody had ever asked him to either Netflix or chill.
And Goldfarb knew about the eggplant.
The eggplant meant the person wanted to have sex.
Goldfarb didn’t really understand why it was an eggplant. Okay, yes, he understood it was a phallic symbol of sorts. But it was a strange one to choose.
An aubergine.
He had never sent or received an eggplant emoji. But this wasn’t an eggplant.
It was a coconut.
Goldfarb Googled:
“what does a coconut emoji signify”
The coconut emoji was approved in 2017. It is used to denote a coconut. It is also used to refer to a tropical location.
Tropical location.
What tropical location?
Did Grace want to go to a tropical location with him?
Goldfarb called Lewberg. He picked up on the first ring.
“What does a coconut emoji mean?”
Neither Goldfarb nor Lewberg was very big on small talk.
“A coconut?”
“Yeah.”
“In a text?”
“Yeah.”
“Who sent you a coconut emoji in a text?”
“Grace.”
“Tulatski Grace?”
“Yes.”
“I see, said the blind man,” said Lewberg. “She just sent you an emoji of a coconut?”
“No.” Goldfarb put the phone on speaker so he could retrieve the text. He didn't need to retrieve the text. He already knew it by heart. “Happy Valentine’s Day Harold. And then the emoji of a coconut.”
“Exclamation mark?”
“What?”
“An exclamation mark. After the word ‘day’ in Valentine’s Day. Did she add an exclamation mark?”
Goldfarb went back to the text. No exclamation mark.
“No exclamation mark.”
“Hmm. What about a heart?”
“Lewberg, if there had been a heart don’t you think I would have told you there was a heart?”
“I dunno Goldfarb. You were very fuzzy about the exclamation mark.”
“No heart. No exclamation mark. Just a coconut.”
“Let me ask you this. Did she use an apostrophe?”
“Yes. An apostrophe.”
“Where?”
“After the e and before the s in Valentine’s. But how the fuck does that help us to decipher the text?”
“It doesn’t. I just want to know if she has good grammar. It is a dying art.”
“Lewberg. I’m fucking dying here.”
It got quiet on the other end of the phone. Fifteen seconds went by. Then Goldfarb said, “Well, the apostrophe doesn’t tell us anything.”
“Lewberg!”
“Let me ask you this.”
“Lewberg—”
“Just one more question. This is a good one.”
“Lewberg, I—”
“One more question.”
“Okay. Go ahead.”
“Was it a full coconut or half a coconut?”
“Lewberg, what the fuck does that have to—”
“Full or half?”
“Let me look… half.”
“Okay. That’s easy. You ready?”
“Lewberg. I’m going to hang up … What does half mean?”
“Tough on the outside, soft on the inside.”
“Tough on the outside, soft on the inside?”
“Yeah.”
Goldfarb thought about it. It kinda made sense.
“That’s not bad,” said Goldfarb.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Lewberg.
“What do I do now?”
“Send her a text. Suggest a coffee. She is reaching out, Harold.”
“Reaching out?”
“Not only did she send you a coconut. She sent you half a coconut. That is huge.”
“Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Do I buy her a present?”
“A present?”
“Yeah. Like a Valentine’s Day present.”
“Sure, buy her a present. Flowers. Chocolate.”
“I once heard her say something about a scarf.”
“Yeah, Harold. A scarf would be nice.”
Goldfarb thought about it.
A scarf would be nice.
The end.