The Letter

by Mary Crawford

  “I understand. He’s just worried. It’s okay, I’ve been through this with my grandma. She didn’t want anyone around her either — but one time, she got so dehydrated she passed out. So, it was a good thing my cousin was with her.”

  “But you’re busy,” I argue.

  Mindy shrugs. “Sometimes when I’m writing songs, it’s better for me to be in a new environment. It gets my creative juices flowing.”

  I narrow my gaze. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

  “Nope — you can ask my friends. Sometimes I randomly pop in on them just to chase down a new muse.”

  “Well, good luck here. Any muse you might find in my house could be quite twisted.”

  Mindy walks over and looks at my screen. “What are you working on?”

  I tap my headphones, which are hanging around my neck. “At the moment I’m cursing myself for all the things I didn’t ask, but I’m trying to take notes from the interview I did with the witness while I was at chemotherapy the other day. My follow-up interview skills were almost nonexistent. A rookie journalism student could’ve probably done better.”

  “Not to sound dense or anything, but most people I know don’t try to combine their job with chemotherapy. I know my grandma said it scrambled her brain a little.”

  “I don’t find the treatments themselves to be so awful — now the nausea which makes me feel like I’m going to throw up my toenails is a little disconcerting. I didn’t expect to feel this weak. These days getting up, taking a shower and getting dressed makes me as tired as when I used to run marathons.”

  “You are running a marathon. It’s just on a cell level now. You are fighting every minute of every day to save your life. It’s okay not to feel normal.”

  “How did you get so smart? You’re barely out of high school.”

  Mindy sighs as she plays with her braids. “Early in my life I had people who taught me all about the worst life has to offer. Then I had people who taught me all about how to triumph despite overwhelming obstacles. Lately, my life has been an object lesson in unconditional love. I’m phenomenally lucky. All of those people, good and bad, have taught me things. As strange as it seems, I wouldn’t go back and change anything. The hell I went through made me who I am.”

  “Wow! That’s incredible.”

  A strange look crosses Mindy’s face. “I’ll be right back. Rocco needs my help for a minute.”

  I look around the house. “Rocco isn't here. I think he got called back in to work or something. He got home from work this morning, took a shower, put on some clean clothes and was out the door again.” I chew on the end of my pen for a second as a sobering thought hits me. “Oh my gosh! I hope it’s not something with his parents.”

  “I’ll just be a minute. I promise. Hold tight,” Mindy says as she pulls off her headphones and runs out the back door. Oddly, she stops and picks up Chevy Chase on her way out.

  I stare at the back door for a bit in befuddlement and then put my headphones on and try to continue transcribing my tapes from Sheila.

  A few minutes later, there is a huge commotion at the back door and I hear Rocco laughing.

  Curious, I run over and open the door. I’m greeted with the sight of Rocco holding a large, brightly colored, oversized gift bag which contains a chocolate lab that is currently enthusiastically licking Rocco’s beard and nose.

  “What’s going on here?” I ask as I giggle at the incongruous sight.

  At the sound of my voice, the lab puppy wearing the purple bandanna turns around and tries to jump into my arms.

  “Well, I was trying to surprise you this morning, but Ladybug didn’t quite understand the rules. She just wants kisses and hugs.”

  “Ladybug? Like Madison’s Ladybug?” I ask as I hug the squirmy puppy close. I can feel her rapid heartbeat and her tail thumping against my arm.

  Rocco nods.

  “I thought she already had a home. When Madison showed me pictures, I thought she was the cutest puppy ever — but Madison said she already placed her.”

  “She did, but the family wasn’t able to keep her. So, I thought you could use a little puppy love and happiness in your life. If you like her, she’s yours.”

  “Really? I always wanted a dog. But it always seemed like such a family thing to do.”

  Rocco winks at me. “Well, you’re halfway there. You’ve got a pretend husband who already has a cat. Chevy didn’t have any issues with her. He was just curious.”

  I sigh. “I suppose you’re right. The timing is perfect because I’m not spending insane hours at work these days. The reason sucks, but it’s true, nonetheless.” I stroke Ladybug’s impossibly soft ears. “It might be a crazy thing to do, but I want to keep her.” I hold the puppy in one arm and reach up to hug Rocco with the other. “Thank you so much for knowing exactly what I needed.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ROCCO

  JUST AS I AM ABOUT to get in my car after a brutal shift, my phone rings. “This is Rocco,” I say as I try to suppress a yawn.

  “Hey, Rocco. This is Andre,” I hear in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Hey!” I answer. “Why are you whispering?”

  “Because I don’t want my boss to know I’m ratting her out. It’s not going well. Philip and I can run her car home later, but I can’t leave right now.”

  I scrub my hand over my face. “Crap! Mallory was so psyched about going back to the office too. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Ladybug and a quick shower are in order for this situation. I make an emergency order at Joy and Tiers to organize an impromptu picnic.

  Less than an hour later, I’m standing in front of her desk at Word Soup, PNW with Ladybug standing remarkably calmly beside me at the end of her purple leash. When Mallory looks up at me, I can tell she’s been crying. Without preamble, I simply ask, “Would you like to go home?”

  Mallory nods mutely as a tear slides down her face. Andre tries to come in and talk to her. She waves him off. Turning to me, she says, “I can’t talk to anybody right now.”

  Andre overhears and rushes to assure her, “Mal, I’ve got this covered. Don’t worry. No one expected you to be back this early anyway.”

  Mallory nods as she collects her backpack and her water flask. She takes Ladybug’s leash and curls herself against my side as we walk through the maze of cubicles. I notice people are avoiding her gaze.

  We drive in silence but Ladybug balances on the hump between the two seats and rests her head on Malory’s shoulder. When Mallory sees me pull up at the park where we first met, she gives me a tearful smile. “No fair playing the nostalgia card.”

  “I know this is one of your favorite places. Ladybug might enjoy it too. I brought us some food and a few toys for the puppy,” I explain as I hand Mallory an extra heavy coat.

  I carry the box Heather packed to a gazebo with picnic tables. I knew about Heather’s love of all things retro because I’d ridden in her car, but I didn’t expect it to extend to my takeout order from Joy and Tiers.

  Mallory gasps when she sees the old-fashioned picnic basket complete with red and white checkered lining. When we open the basket, there are china plates and champagne flutes. I look down at my somewhat threadbare Levi jeans, flannel shirt and black leather jacket. “I’m not sure I am appropriately dressed for my own picnic.”

  Mallory glances at her white sheath sweater dress and cardigan. “For once, I’m good. This is a phenomenal surprise. You know, the kind they write movies about. I feel like Meg Ryan should be popping around the corner any second now.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Really? Who should play me?”

  “Well, we’ve got Ladybug here. We already know Tom Hanks likes dogs because of Turner and Hooch. That would work, right?”

  “You really do have a thing for eighties movies don’t you?”

  Mallory drops her head. “I do. All the time I’ve spent laying on the couch recently hasn’t helped.” />
  “I have to confess, I’ve become a Rom-Com junkie too. If Remy knew, he would never let me live it down.”

  “What kind of movies do you guys generally watch?”

  “Horror movies, with lots of blood, guts and gore,” I answer as I set a beautiful red tablecloth out and set the table. “Do you want a chicken salad sandwich or roast beef?” I ask as I hold up the sandwiches.

  “From Joy and Tiers? Roast beef. Heather makes amazing horseradish sauce. Did you get the German potato salad too?”

  “I did — just for you,” I respond holding up the little container. As I dig through the picnic basket, I come across a container I didn’t order. I smile as I see the note from Heather. I take the sticky note off and hand it to Mallory.

  She gets tearful as she reads it out loud. “I hope you don’t mind. I took the liberty of developing a dessert for you. I know it’s pink — but I swear it tastes good.”

  For several minutes, we sit in silence with Ladybug sitting on the picnic bench next to Mallory with her head parked firmly in Mallory’s lap. Whoever had this puppy before taught her some serious table manners. She doesn’t even try to beg. She lays there quietly as Mallory strokes her ears.

  After Mallory finishes her sandwich and eats a few bites of potato salad, she sits back and sips strawberry lemonade from the champagne flutes. “Andre called you, didn’t he? I swear that man is a Jewish grandmother hidden in a skinny black guy from Southern California. He worries about me more than my own family.”

  I inhale quietly and let it out before I carefully ask, “Did he have reason to worry?”

  Mallory scrunches up her nose. “Ample, but that’s not really the point.”

  “It isn’t?” I ask, trying to follow her reasoning.

  “Okay, maybe it’s totally the point — but what if I didn’t want it to be the point? What if I just wanted to go back to work and have it be a regular, ordinary day?” I can feel the frustration roll off of her in waves.

  “I take it that’s not what happened?”

  “No! It was so stupid. By the time I drove to work, the nerve pain in my hands was so severe, I could hardly hold on to the steering wheel and the bottoms of my feet were stinging.” She sticks her foot out from under the picnic table “See? I have perfectly reasonable flats on today. You know what these do to someone like me? I look like a fourth-grader. Even so, my feet feel like they’re on fire. It’s like I’ve been wearing my five inch stilettos around for ten hours.”

  “If it makes any difference, I think you look gorgeous even in your flats.”

  “Thank you, but I still feel funny. If that wasn’t bad enough, when I got to work, they had changed my password. It’s like they never expected me to come back. They said it was for security reasons — but I got the message loud and clear.”

  “What did Andre say?”

  “Andre said they did a system-wide security audit and a bunch of people were caught up in it. But, I don’t know. Andre seems awfully cozy with the new politics reporter. I feel crushed. I’ve only been gone a couple weeks. I thought Andre would be on my team forever. What if he bails on me?”

  “I didn’t get the impression Andre is planning to go anywhere. I think you might be reading too much into it. After all, he needs projects to work on while you’re gone.”

  Mallory growls at me. “I hate it when you’re all calm and logical when I’m in the middle of having a meltdown.”

  I make a motion of zipping my lips. “Okay, commencing listening mode.”

  “It was so hard. You know how I was having trouble concentrating while I was at home? I found it a million times harder at work. I never had trouble screening out the noise of other people around me until now. It’s like I’ve lost the switch in my brain which allows me to filter out extraneous noise. It seems to have vanished. I didn’t know how to get it back and I couldn’t get anything done today.”

  “Mallory, today was only your first day back, maybe it’s simply too early to tell,” I murmur.

  “Oh gosh, don’t remind me,” she exclaims. “Some people were happy to see me back. Even so, other people acted like I was personally there to spread the bubonic plague. Other people wanted to tell me their scariest story about breast cancer like my cancer suddenly gave them permission to list everyone in their life they’d lost to the disease. Trust me when I tell you I don’t need to hear that stuff right now. I’m barely hanging on by my fingernails. I’m so weak I feel dizzy and lightheaded even when I eat. I am not a poster child for everything going right during chemotherapy. I thought all these symptoms would go away once I was on my treatment hiatus. But a lot of food still makes me nauseous and you know all about the diarrhea. I spent an embarrassingly large amount of time in the bathroom today.”

  I hand her a napkin so she can wipe her tears.

  “I want to be strong, but I’m just not.”

  “Mallory, you are so strong. You need a different definition of what strong looks like. Strong is not your life as you once knew it. It’s coping with all the garbage that’s coming your way and doing your best.”

  “But, I have work to do. Very critical, lifesaving work — a man is in prison who shouldn’t be.”

  “I know. And what you are doing for him is incredible. I’m not asking you to stop. We just need to come up with another plan of attack which will work with where you’re at right now. You just had surgery a few weeks ago and your body is being bombarded with poison. It’s not surprising you’re not firing on all cylinders right now. What’s surprising to me is that you’re doing as well as you are.”

  Mallory stops mid-bite. “I think there was a compliment hidden in there somewhere.”

  “There were a couple of compliments in there. There’s also a promise that I’ll help anyway I can.”

  “Thank you. Right now, I’d like to put today behind us. I’m too tired to think about it or figure out ways to fix it. I just want to eat what I know is probably a delicious dessert from Heather and then go home and take a really long nap.” She points to the elaborate picnic set up and the toys sitting on the edge of the picnic table. “I’m sorry. I know you had much more elaborate plans, but I’m simply not up to them.”

  I glance over at Ladybug who is sound asleep on Mallory’s lap. “The only thing I had planned for today was to help cheer you up. I don’t think Ladybug will mind if we don’t play in the park today. She seems ecstatic right where she’s at. If a nap is what you need, that’s what you’ll get. My only goal is to make you happy.”

  Mallory opens up the last container from Heather and takes a big bite. She moans in satisfaction. After she swallows, she says, “Surprisingly, for as rotten as my day started out, I’m well on my way to being happy. Thank you for rescuing me. Tomorrow, I’ll send Andre a thank-you note too. He’s probably stewing at his desk wondering if he royally screwed up.”

  The next morning, when I bring Ladybug back from her walk, I find Mallory sitting in front of her computer with a look of complete consternation on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as I walk over and try to rub the knots out of her neck and shoulders.

  “At the paper, we hire a court reporting service to do this. But since I'm officially on leave, I don’t have access to it. I’m having trouble working from the raw tapes — I need transcripts. I didn’t realize how hard it is to transcribe tapes. I thought Sheila and I were in a relatively quiet room, but some of what we said is hard to understand. I’m incredibly frustrated. I thought this part of the process would go by quickly. But it’s taking me forever.”

  “Do you want me to try? Years of report writing have made me a pretty fast typist.”

  Mallory throws up her hands. “Okay, I’d appreciate it. I’m not making very fast progress here. I’m going to go take a nice warm shower and see if I can work out some of the permanent knots which have taken up residence in my back. I’ll let you start from the beginning. You can double check the work I’ve done so far. I can’t guarantee I’ve done a
very good job. Listening to the tapes makes me sleepy.”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “It does? I would think the subject matter would keep you wide awake.”

  “It’s not that. Ever since I was a kid, I have always fallen asleep when people read to me. It didn’t matter if it was my parents at bedtime or my teacher in the classroom. It’s as good as sleeping medication for me.”

  “I wish you would’ve told me sooner. It might have helped with the insomnia caused by the chemotherapy.”

  Mallory shrugs. “To be honest, I never think about it because I hardly ever have anyone reading things back to me.”

  When Mallory stands to leave, I nuzzle her neck and kiss her on the shoulder. “Okay, you go pamper yourself. Ladybug and I will hold down the fort.”

  When the puppy hears her name, she cocks her head and raises an ear. She was in the middle of trying to give Chevy Chase a bath. I think he is enjoying having her around. For once, he isn’t the most klutzy creature in the house. I swear Chevy was laughing at Ladybug the other day when she tripped and fell muzzle first into her water dish.

  After I hear the water in the shower start to run, I sit down and open the document Mallory has been working on and start the recording. At first, I’m simply comparing the two. I don’t find many mistakes and I’m riveted by the story. I’m almost disappointed when I reach the point where I have to stop being a spectator and transcribe. Mallory’s right, it is more difficult to have to take down every word and filter out extraneous noise. Yet the story remains equally infuriating and heartbreaking.

  Ladybug paws urgently at my thigh and whines. Finally, I take the headphones off and stretch. I look at the whimsical clock on Mallory’s kitchen wall and realize I’ve been at this for three hours. I stand up and get Ladybug’s leash from the back door and take her out. When I finish, I go in search of Mallory. I find her sound asleep curled up under her down comforter with one of Elijah Fischer’s novels clutched to her chest. Her glasses are cattywampus on her face. When I reach out to gently remove them, she stirs and wakes up. Groggily, she asks, “How is it going?”