by Adriana Peck
I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m prepared to find out.
I grab the first letter from the top of the stack, ripping the envelope open at the seam. There’s a card inside, a boilerplate-standard ‘congrats’ card from the local grocer. Inside it’s signed, from Terry and Mary Jenkins. Never heard of them.
I go through card after card. The first ten are all ‘congrats,’ nothing more inside but a handwritten signature. But the seventh card has something interesting inside, I can see the thickness of the envelope when I hold it in my hands.
It’s a hundred dollars in cash. From James Hardy, someone in town who I’ve never met. Again.
The next few letters come from familiar faces over town. There’s one from Paul, one from Darius, my ex-fiancee. A card from Barry came, too, and I open all of those up next.
Paul sent us a card, a check enclosed for three hundred dollars was inside. I know I’ll never cash that, and I rip up the check before another thought crosses my mind. Same from Barry, it looks like he sent Jake and I fifty dollars, cash. I put that money back in the card, knowing full well I intend on returning it to Barry as soon as possible. Darius sends me a gift card to his gym, enclosed with five year’s membership for Jake and I to share. Great.
I keep opening letter after letter, envelope after envelope. With each passing gift, with every congratulations, I feel a weight pressing down on my shoulders. This is wrong. These gifts are wrong. I don’t deserve any of them, and I know I should return each and every one of these to its rightful owner.
But then I’d be admitting that Jake and I were scamming them in the first place.
I don’t know what to do.
And a part of me thinks I should call Jake, tell him just how much shit showed up at my front doorstop today. But I doubt he’d answer a call from me, not after the ringer I put him through last night over the phone.
I sigh, sitting down on my couch as I hold my head in my hands.
I think I’m in too deep. I just know I’m in deep dog-shit after today.
And I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this one.
Twenty-Three
Jake
The mid-afternoon bell rings, signaling us factory floor workers that it’s time to take our second break of the day. I put down my iron press, shutting down my station’s equipment for the time being as I leave the factory with a massive horde of workers filing out around me.
It’s hard work here, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t rewarding. After breaking for lunch earlier today, I can feel myself working muscles I haven’t worked out since leaving the military. And I’m ever grateful to have a job that’s keeping me on my feet, letting me work with my hands. I’ll never survive a desk job, the nine-to-five grind’ll chew me up and spit me out before I can raise a voice of concern to the various Lindas in HR.
This works for me. I think I can make it here.
A job’s a job, and I’m proud of myself for buckling down and finding honest work after all the BS I’d been through since coming back to town.
As I walk out of the factory, I watch the other workers disperse as they head to their cars in the front parking lot. Some gather together in huddled masses, but I still haven’t seen any familiar faces here on the job today.
I’m parked a ways away, down the street, close to the edge of the forest. I’ve parked in the same spot today as I did for the charity fundraiser, that same night I ran into Nancy. When I sit in the back of my truck, looking out into the trees like I did that night with Nancy beside me, I don’t feel nearly as alone.
I know I fucked up last night. I know the argument was my fault; I shouldn’t have applied for Nancy’s old job at Nora’s Café. That was wrong of me, I’ll concede. But Nancy didn’t appreciate me for trying, she’d just picked out the bad parts and thrown them back to me all at once. Nobody could stave that kind of argument off. And I know I deserve every ounce of ire she has for me, I’ll admit when I was in the wrong.
I’m trying to do the right thing here, Nancy. I really am.
But it feels like I can’t do anything right, no matter how hard I try. I’m lost, hurt, confused. And I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk again, I don’t know when Nancy’ll let me explain to her why I did what I did.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to run back to her. Not after last night. Call it pride, call it shame.
I’m losing all hope here.
I perk back up when I hear the bell ringing again from inside the factory, and I exit my truck as I start the short hike back up to the factory floor.
◆◆◆
The last few hours of the day are a grueling march to the finish line, and I feel a sigh of relief wash over me when the quitting bell finally rings. My first day’s finished, finally over after eleven grueling hours.
I’ve never been more exhausted. Not even in basic boot-camp did I find myself to be this tired after a long day’s end. As I file out of the factory with the rest of the workers, I feel completely and utterly drained beyond belief. I don’t know how somebody can do a job like this for a living, and I know I’ve got a long road ahead of me before I'm finally adjusted to working here.
As the crowd disperses in the parking lot, I feel a tap on my shoulder and I whirl around suddenly.
It’s Darry fucking Blighter, grinning from ear to ear and imbued with bursting energy. He looks peppier than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, and the sweat on his brow tells me he’s just finished a shift, too.
“Jake? What are you doing here?” he beams.
I shrug. “Working. Didn’t know you were stuck here, too.”
“Yup. I’m just a part-timer here for Nigel; running the gym keeps me occupied for most of the week.”
I cock an eyebrow, impressed. “You work two jobs?”
“That I do. So, when’d you start?” Darius asks me cheerily. I can tell he must’ve been here for a while; there’s no way a newbie like me would ever be that cheery in their first few months of working here.
“Today,” I reply. “First day. How long you been here?”
“Going on a year,” Darius says. “Hey, want to come get a drink with me? We can stop by a tavern on the way back to town. Whaddya say?”
I shrug again.
“Sounds fine to me,” I tell my friend. “I’ve got my truck just down the hill a ways. I’ll follow you out to town.”
Darius nods, and we both head to our respective trucks as we join the rest of the late-afternoon traffic leaving the factory.
◆◆◆
“So, how’d you and Nancy get engaged?”
The tavern’s dimly lit, crowded with other factory workers as we all pile in after quitting time. Darius and I are seated at the bar, lucky enough to have squeezed in here before the place hit maximum capacity just a few minutes ago. We’ve both got a drink in hand, Darius courteously picking up the tab for the two of us. Overhead, faint rock music blares as the droning of countless conversations gives me a slight headache.
“Huh?” I ask, craning my neck in an attempt to hear my friend better.
“How’d you two get engaged?” Darius hollers at me from the next seat over. Around us, the cacophony of the bar grows louder and louder. I nod, preparing the lie I’d been training myself to tell people all over town. I don’t dare tell Darius we’d just hit a rough patch, that’ll cause far much more trouble than it’s worth. It hurts me to talk about it, but I do my best to put on a happy face.
“We knew each other in passing, back in high school. We never talked while you two were engaged, don’t get the wrong idea. We reconnected when I got back from the Marines, the first night I came back, actually.”
But Darry’s just grinning, he doesn’t care at all about that. I can tell he’s not jealous, he’s not secretly probing me as a means to win back Nancy’s heart. He’s genuinely curious, so I continue.
“We met up at the charity fundraiser, the one you and I bumped into each other at,” I s
ay, and Darius nods. “We hit it off from there, and…” I trail off, unable to continue. But Darius slaps me on the back heartily, congratulating me again.
I feel the heartbreak again of Nancy telling me she needs a break. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this facade, especially after a hard day’s worth of work. I feel a lump in my throat, and I look down into my drink to keep myself distracted.
“You good?” he asks me.
I shrug. He knows something’s up, Darry is far from the jock idiot that people around town peg him for. I can se him staring me down from his seat at the bar, and I look up at him, sighing.
No use in beating around the bush any longer, I guess.
“We…uh, we hit a wall,” I tell Darius reluctantly.
“What do you mean?”
“I think…I don’t know. She got upset at me, told me she needed some space. We got into this big fight last night over this dumb ass mistake I made, and I know I fucked up bad when things ended.”
Darius looks down into his drink this time, and I know he’s thinking about what he should say to me next.
“I figured something was up,” he says, looking back up at me. “I sent you guys a card this morning, early enough to where I knew you’d get it before anything else today. But you didn’t mention the card at all. Either Nancy didn’t tell you, or things are rougher than I’ve been led to think. So yeah, I guess I had a little bit of an idea.”
“I think she dumped me, Darry,” I say, feeling my heart breaking into two.
Darius pats my shoulder, a symbol of sympathy. “You hit the wall?” he asks.
I nod.
“Well, you’re going to have to find a way to climb over it if you want things to work,” Darius says.
“How so?”
“You must’ve done something to win her heart in the first place,” Darius says. “Maybe try going back to that?”
I shrug for what feels like the millionth time tonight. “Maybe,” is all I can manage to say.
Darius slams back the rest of his drink. He gets up, pats me one more time on the shoulder for good measure.
“Things are going to work out for you two, bud,” he says to me. I can feel my spirits lifting with his every word. “You just have to think about her first. Put Nancy first, you know?”
I nod. “Yeah. I get it.”
“I fucked up when she and I were together. I fucked up a lot,” Darius laughs. “But that’s all in the past now. You know what I learned about her, though?”
“What?”
“Nancy’s a pretty forgiving person. If you go to her, tell her you’re sorry, I’m sure she’ll find a way to give you another shot at things. She’d give a mugger a second chance. And you’re a thousand times better off than that.”
I look up at my friend, doing my best to return his smile.
“Thanks, Darry. You’re a good friend, you know that?”
“Hey, I try. See you tomorrow, Jake.”
And with that, Darius flings his coat over his shoulder as he leaves the bar. I’m left alone, sitting here surrounded by all these people. I sit for a while, God knows how long. I nurse my drink, sipping on it as I think things over.
I know Nancy’s out there, all on her lonesome, dealing with the gossip, the cards, the engagement gifts. I bet it’s all too much for her to handle, and I’m a real piece of work for running out on her like that.
I check my phone for the first time today.
I can see she’s called me a few times. I have a few unopened text messages from Nancy, too, and I know things aren’t totally dead between us as of yet.
And then, a shroud of an idea floats across the forefront of my mind.
I know how I can make this right. I know how I can fix things with Nancy.
I slam back the rest of my drink, sprinting out of the bar and out into the parking lot. The sun’s set long ago, the stars are just now coming out, but I have my mission nevertheless. I dive into my truck, starting the engine as fast as I can.
I’ve got to find Nancy.
There’s something I need to tell her in person, and it can’t wait another second.
Twenty-Four
Nancy
I’ve been stuck in my apartment, staring at that godforsaken pile all day, and I still don’t know what I’m going to do with all these bullshit ‘gifts.’ They were all addressed to Jake and I, sent to my apartment as a congratulations for an engagement that’s not even real. I’m a liar, I’m a monster. I’m completely disgusted with myself, and I can hardly believe I’d agreed to scam the town I grew up in with the outcast boy I used to know back in high school.
What a mess I turned out to be. That’s two failed engagements now. Real or no, the sting of failure still pangs me now. Honestly, I’m pretty sure I dumped Jake. And I think he’s as done with me as I am regretful over the situation. I wouldn’t blame him. I freaked out on him, went wild when I thought I’d been slighted. And he’s probably wanting to run for the hills, which I can’t fault him for in the slightest.
I look up from my seat on the couch, staring at the pile of envelopes out in my kitchen. They’re still there, the letters haven’t moved. I doubt Jake’s going to want to help me deal with those. I know I’m on the hook for each and every single one of those gifts, and I don’t have the faintest idea where my ‘engagement’ really stands at the moment. Do I tell people Jake and I broke up? Do I come clean, admit the truth to everyone in town?
All these letters from all these people.
Half the names I know, the other half are perfect strangers. Janitors. Clerks. Grocery shoppers, housewives. Parents, friends of friends, business owners. I’m spiraling out of control just thinking about them, but in reality I’m frozen in place on my couch, where I’ve been stuck all day. It’s like I’m spinning on a hamster’s wheel, going nowhere even after all this effort. I’ve been sitting here all goddamn day thinking about these cursed letters, and it’s gotten me nowhere.
Outside, the sun is starting to set over the trees. I’ve gone and wasted another day. Congrats, Nancy. Here’s your gold star for being such a responsible adult. Mom and Dad would be so proud of me.
But my family’s gone. Mom, Dad, siblings. All moved away from Twin Orchards, never returning my phone calls. It’d be useless trying to reconnect with them now.
And just like my family, Jake’s abandoned me, too.
I’ve tried calling him today. Texting him. But no reply. He probably hasn’t bothered to turn on his phone today, if I’m being real with myself. Busy with his new job at the factory, most likely. Good for him for moving on. Really.
I’m well and truly alone. It was stupid of me to think I could live a life otherwise.
I gather myself, picking myself up from off the couch as I trudge back into my kitchenette. My counter’s still flooded with envelopes, the pile higher than Mount Everest in my mind. Letters spill out from atop the pile, clearing out an entire section of my counter that’s now devoted to congratulatory cards and gifts I don’t deserve.
Even looking at the letters, I feel like shit. I know I don’t deserve any of these well-wishes. I certainly don’t deserve the money they’re sending me. I probably don’t deserve the kind words, either, if I’m being honest.
I know I have to return each and every single one of these letters, including the ones I’d already opened. It’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. But I don't have the faintest idea where to even begin with a mission like this.
I have to start making things right, now, or else I’ll never let myself live this down.
I wish I could call Jake, I wish he’d call me. I was over the top, furious with him when I knew I shouldn’t have been. But he crossed a line, and that was shitty of him. He needed to understand how much that hurt me. But the silence is killing me even more, and I feel like I’m up a creek without a paddle. Jake was my lifeline, the thing keeping the dam from bursting.
I figure I could mail the letters back, but I’m
afraid that’d just piss off the one mailman we still have here in town. This is my fault; I ought to carry the burden of returning these letters one by one myself. It’s my job, it’s my mistake.
But it’s my choice.
I know what I have to do, so I might as well get started.
I head into my room, looking for the biggest bag I have. I have a few duffel bags, an old suitcase, backpacks from school. I grab the duffel bags, three in all, and I head back out into the living room, opening the bags as I stuff all the letters in that I can.
It takes me the better part of twenty minutes, but I manage to stuff all the letters into duffel bags. The three bags in total carry all the letters, and I hoist them over my shoulder as I start the three-flight long hike down to my car.
I lock my apartment door behind me, shifting my weight to readjust the duffel bags flung over my shoulder. I start the walk down to my car, determined now more than ever to make things right.
So that’s just what I’ll do.
◆◆◆
I hop in my car, dumping the duffel bags in the back seat. I’m completely unsure as to how I can even begin to unload these. But I know this all starts with just one letter. So I reach behind me, into my back seat as I fish out the first letter to return. It’s a thick white envelope with probably a stack of bills inside. Cash for the newlyweds-to-be. I feel sick to my stomach for even having even considered accepting these gifts; I don’t know what came over me when I agreed to follow Jake down this path.
Before I can read the return address I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, and I fish it out with a sigh. I’ve got no idea who’d be calling me at this hour.
Janice’s Bridal, apparently.
“Hello?”
“Hey Nancy, it’s Janice. Got a second?”
I’m a little weirded out, and I shrug my shoulders as I re-adjust my mirrors back into place.