Postal Blessings

"Jerry, we need to talk." Cynthia gave her hair a final stroke and turned from the bureau mirror, the brush in her hand.

Jerry straightened up from his position on the edge of the bed and put his hands on his knees, his untied shoes no longer important. It seemed as if, over the years, he kept repeating a scene from the same movie. "I think I know what you're going to say," he said with a tight smile, waiting for the inevitable.

"Do you? Then tell me what it is." Cynthia leaned back against the bureau, as she rested the hairbrush against her chin, her eyes sparkling and intense, waiting for his reply.

He sighed. "You're going to tell me that we should try just being friends for a while. That we should give ourselves time to think, perhaps explore new relationships. Right?"

"Well, being psychic must be one of your hidden talents." She moved away from the bureau and picked up her overnight bag from the blanket chest at the foot of the bed. "I guess that sums it up, darling." She buried her hairbrush in the bag and closed it, her raking pull on the zipper a shriek in the stillness.

He watched her from the bedroom window as she unlocked her car, wondering what had gone wrong this time.

The next morning, Jerry awoke, turned on his side, and groaned. Alone again. He buried his face in her wrinkled pillow, savoring the faint scent of her, then lay back and stared at the ceiling.

His employment behind the counter at the jewelry store introduced him to the best cut of available women, but, despite his efforts, he was lucky if a relationship lasted for more than a week. Cynthia was an exception: two weeks for this one.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, the overnight stubble rough against his palms. He had enticed her with a substantial discount on an expensive bracelet, telling her it was something he was doing just for her, and indeed it was. The discount would be withdrawn from his salary, a ploy he sometimes used to be in the company of a woman who attracted him. His previous failures in the courting ritual had led him to believe that a bribe was necessary, that he couldn't succeed with just his personality. Riches hadn't claimed him, nor the fountain of youth saved him from the aging process. He was in his forties, and needed to find someone soon. He didn't relish the thought of spending the rest of his life alone.

After showering and shaving, he left the apartment building, the grey sky matching his mood. He walked across the apartment buildings' green belt to the mall and his favorite coffee shop. It was mid-morning, and the Saturday shoppers were forming into a herd.

He ordered a double shot of Expresso and found a table meant for two near the store's open doorway. He took his time, observing the usual stampede as he sipped his coffee.

Apart from the everyday shoppers, there were a few couples who entered the coffee shop holding hands, or walked by the doorway with their arms around each other's waist. He envied them their happiness, their oneness. He felt like an outsider, always observing the contentment he yearned for, but never experiencing it.

His cup empty, Jerry left the mall and walked back to The Regency Apartments. He passed a sign near the apartment office that gave visitors the location of all sixteen buildings. The sign was needed, since the buildings were identical. It wasn't much, but all Jerry could afford.

"Mornin', Jerry." Hal Wiggins, one of the maintenance men, turned from the front door of Building 11, resting from his efforts to replace one of the glass panels bordering the front door that had been broken the week before by vandals.

"Hi, Hal," Jerry said, as he reached in his pocket for his key. "Mailman been here yet?" He fitted the key into the lock and opened the door a crack.

"Yeah, 'bout half hour ago," he said. "Got the regular today. That new one he had on yesterday was delivering after dark."

Jerry pulled the door open. "Don't know about you, Hal, but I wouldn't want to be delivering around here in the dark."

Hal snickered as the door closed, and Jerry went down the steps to the mailboxes by the laundry room. Apartment 243's box was in the bottom row, his name on a label the complex had provided him the day he moved in. As he removed the usual advertisements and letters from his box, he hoped his stay at this apartment complex would not stretch into decades. He knew some residents who had been there for fifteen years. He wanted to be gone within five, upward bound in the jewelry business or some other venture.

The advertisements he threw in the wastebasket by the sink in the laundry room, knowing that he was probably passing up the deals of the century.

Back in his apartment, he threw the letters on the kitchen table and went to the patio door that led to his balcony. He stood there for a few minutes, looking out on the green belt and a group of kids who were playing football. A man and a woman were laughing and nodding to each other while they pushed identical strollers on one of the sidewalks that ran throughout the complex. Twins. He would trade his worldly possessions just to have a wife. He thought about changing into his trunks and trying his luck at The Regency's outdoor pool.

He shook his head at the futility of such thinking and returned to the table to see what wonders the U.S. Postal Service had brought: second notice on the electric bill, a letter from the president of his high school graduation class, probably about an upcoming reunion, and a letter with no return on it addressed to J. Mullins, Regency Apartments, #243.

The electric bill he left unopened; they'd get their money when payday arrived next Friday. He opened the letter from his graduation class and confirmed his suspicions on the reunion - not enough money or time off to drive back to Lincoln. He balled it up and made a two-pointer into the wastebasket by the refrigerator.

The letter with no return he left until last, wondering who could be writing him who didn't know his last name was Millins, not Mullins. He tore the edge off the envelope, pulled the letter out, and unfolded it on the table. It was typed, except for the signature:

Hey, Jan,

Jan? Bob? Jerry rubbed his eyes. Whoever Jan was it looked like she was getting a shaft that was usually reserved for him. The letter had to be addressed to the wrong apartment.

Jerry went to the kitchen drawer where he kept the phone book and the apartment directory. Residents were listed alphabetically, so he skipped to the third page and found his name, phone number and apartment number, all listed correctly.

Directly above his name was someone named Bill Marker who lived in Building 12. But below his name he found Janet Mullins, who lived in Building 2, apartment 43. Bob had run the building and apartment number together, coming up with his apartment, 243.

Interesting. Somebody in the same boat he was in. But what to do about it? Call her up and tell her "Bob" had left her? Not a good approach. Besides, it would be admitting he'd opened a letter intended for her. Jerry sighed, folded the letter, went to the drawer, and put it inside the phone book. Probably wasn't her type anyway.

The following Wednesday, after a slow day at Thompson's Jewelry, Jerry entered his apartment and found that the Regency staff had slipped a flyer under his door, announcing a resident get-together for Friday night at the club house. A barbecue. He usually didn't attend such functions and was about to throw the flyer away, when he thought of the errant letter. Maybe J. Mullins would be there and his chance to meet Janet would arrive. If he didn't meet Janet, or anyone else, he would stop looking. The rejections weren't worth the pain.

The weather Friday evening was perfect for a barbecue. He entered the club house and met the savory smell of burning charcoal and roasting meat drifting out from the pool area in back.

"Hello! Are you a resident or a guest?" The woman behind the card table looked up with a mannequin's smile.

He hated social gatherings; they made him feel uncomfortable. "Resident. Millins. Jerry Millins." He feigned a grin while eyeing some of the other arrivals milling about the clubhouse.

"So glad you could make it, Jerry." She reached into a metal box and handed him a nametag. "Please fill this out so the other guests will know who you are. There's some pens on the table over there."

He thanked her and proceeded to the other table, wondering if Ms. Mullins would arrive, or if she had patched things up with Bob. He filled out the tag and attached it to his shirt, hating this ritual that should have been dropped after kindergarten. He maneuvered to the edge of the group, an outsider again, no one knowing or caring if he existed.

"You look familiar."

Jerry turned to find another man standing by his side, beer in hand. "Well, I am a resident." He looked at the man's nametag. "Wish I could say the same, Todd."

"What building you in?"

"Building 11."

"Me too," Todd said. "Must have seen you in the laundry room or at the mail boxes."

Jerry didn't care for the inquisition. "Where'd you get the beer?"

"Out by the pool. There's a couple coolers by the grill."

"Thanks," Jerry said, as he made his way across the room to the back door. The faint smell of chlorine mixed with the cooking aromas as he stepped outside. He walked over to one of the coolers. As he opened it and found a beer to his liking, he noticed a girl, probably in her thirties, standing alone at the far edge of the pool, looking at him. She was cute, her brunette hair cascading onto her shoulders, a Coke cradled in both hands. She broke eye contact, dropping her gaze to the water.

He walked towards her, his spirits down, but determined to try once more, wondering if this was Janet, but not really caring. This was his last shot. "Hello. See anything worth fishing for?"

She looked up and gave him a shy smile, exhibiting one of the cutest turned-up noses he had ever seen. "Just day-dreaming," she said. "I don't think they're catchable."

"You never know," he said, as he glanced at her nametag. His heart took a skip. "Janet, is it?"

"Yes, and I see you're Jerry." She glanced at his nametag and looked up, returning his smile, peering at him for a moment then turning away. "I live in Building 2." She was dressed in blue jeans and a white blouse, slender in build, shorter than he.

Jerry decided to cut to the chase. "I'm unattached this evening. How about you?" He needed, wanted, her company. He turned as another couple entered the pool area and waited for the rejection he knew was coming.

"Just me. If you think you can put up with me, I'll give you a chance," she said softly.

He turned towards her. She was looking at him with the hint of a smile, then at the water again, as if she were expecting her own rejection. "Well, then," he said. "It's a date. Let's see how the food's coming."

They stayed together throughout the event, kindred spirits gravitating towards one another, seeking understanding. Later that evening, while they walked through a park nearby, Jerry uncharacteristically told her of his problems with women. "So you see," he said, as he glanced in her direction. "You might be getting more than you bargained for if we continue to see each other."

Janet smiled inwardly, then said, "I was seeing someone, but he hasn't returned any of my phone calls." She stopped, putting a hand on his arm, turning him towards her. "I'm willing if you are. I say we risk it."

He reached out, gently held her face in his hands and kissed her briefly. The honesty of their conversation made Jerry feel that perhaps this relationship would be different.

Two months later, after sharing a meal at The Pink Flamingo, a restaurant he really couldn't afford, Jerry pulled a small box from the pocket of his suit coat. "Janet, I'm not much of one for tradition, but I want to do this right." He opened the box and handed it across the table. "I love you so much. Will you marry me?"

Janet's eyes widened, then glistened with tears as she gazed at the diamond ring surrounded by purple velvet. "Oh, Jerry, I...", she reached for her purse and retrieved a handkerchief.

Jerry's heart stopped and his hands began to tingle. Another rejection. This one had to top all of them. "It's okay, look...I can take it back tomorrow. I work there, you know?" He tried to smile as tears welled up within him. "I guess I'm just a jerk." He rose to leave, wanting to get away.

She reached out, grabbed his arm and stood, facing him. "You're not a jerk! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me!" Tears streamed from her eyes. "Of course I'll marry you!" Jerry gently pulled her to him, his own tears flowing.

A month before their wedding, they were in Jerry's apartment, after a hike in the mountains. "I'm going to take a shower," Jerry said. "Where do you want to go for supper?"

"I hear there's a nice place over on Boardwalk," she said. "I think it's called Reno's."

Jerry started for the bathroom. "Why don't you give them a call, hon, and see if they take reservations," he called from the hallway. "The phone book's in the drawer in the kitchen."

Janet retrieved the phone book and started flipping through the yellow pages. She found the restaurant's phone number and wrote it down on a pad by the phone. As she was putting the phone book back in the drawer, the long-forgotten letter fell from its pages and landed on the floor. She picked it up, looked at the envelope for a moment, then slipped it back between the pages and returned the book to the drawer. Feeling the need for some air, Janet went through the patio door and stood on the balcony, the water from the shower sounding like a waterfall in the background. She smiled briefly as she went to the phone and made the reservations.

Later that evening, they were curled on the sofa in front of the television, watching a movie. With Janet's head resting against his chest, Jerry looked down at her, marveling that he had found someone to share his life with. His loneliness had ended.

She looked up at him and smiled, her eyes filled with tenderness. He leaned down and gave her a lingering kiss. She slowly pulled away and held her hand up, admiring her engagement ring as it sparkled in the light coming from the screen.

Maybe someday she'd tell him that she'd almost given up, that she had been just as desperate as he had been. Maybe tell him that it was she who had found him, that there was no Bob, or anyone else. That she had found out about him from a friend he had dated from the office where she worked, who thought Jerry was more Janet's type. Tell him that she had spied on him for a week, trying to get up the nerve to introduce herself. That she had finally typed the letter, signed it Bob, and addressed it wrongly on purpose, hoping that he'd take an interest in her.

"Happy, sweetheart?" Jerry pulled her closer.

"Very happy." Maybe someday she'd tell him. But not now.