warning?
This story will be a little bit of a change of pace. Something more of a serious nature and maybe more appealing to those who like a little melodrama? if that’s the right word. Anyway it could be a four or five parter, so if not your cup of mocha java, give it a pass. Hope it doesn’t turn to codswallop before its over.
The Letter
“Tru-dee? Trudy!” Trudy was dreaming that her mother was calling her to get up for school. She was too sleepy to try and make the effort and surface into consciousness.
“Trudy it’s seven o’clock, come on down for breakfast.”
Finding herself gradually awakening, Trudy realized that her mother really was calling her, but not for school this time. She was twenty-five years old, a college graduate and engaged to be married. School days were over for her.
“Be down in a couple, Mom.” she called out the door.
As she looked around the room, old memories crowded her thoughts. The bedroom was just as it always was. The knick-knack shelves were still there, filled with dusty, porcelain reminders of high school days. She remembered, too, why she was back in this room, in this old house. Today her mother was going to receive The Letter. It was unclear to her why it had taken the post office nearly twenty five years to deliver it, but today a letter from her long dead father, was finally going to be delivered to his wife Marjorie Sanderson. Trudy, along with her older brother Joe, would be there to help her mother to celebrate the event.
As she got out of bed, Trudy pulled on her light, flannel robe and rubbed her eyes. Coming back to be here this weekend was her mother’s plan. She wanted the three of them to be together one more time. The letter was the thing that would unite them for this day.
The sounds of her mother bustling around in the kitchen, came to her in the room. Trudy knew that her mother would be making a large breakfast today. They would have eggs, bacon and probably homemade biscuits. Cooking was her way of keeping her mind off the coming events of the day.
Walking slowly down the steps, the smells from the kitchen greeted her as she descended. For an instant, it brought back a vague, but pleasant memory from long ago, but then it was gone. With a smile she walked into the kitchen and greeted her mother.
“Morning Mom, let me help you with breakfast.”
“Everything is under control dear, sit down and have some coffee. You know for the past few years I’ve been making breakfast just for myself. It’s a nice change to be making it for you and Joe again.”
“I know Mom, but I’d like to you to be able to sit with us so we can all talk and enjoy it together. We don’t want you runnin’ around here servin’ us like some goddamm waitress.”
Her mother turned around to look at her.
“Is that how you talk back in college? You never learned that language from me. Your father never took the Lord’s name in vain. You might not remember him, but he never talked like that and neither should you!”
The minute she had said it, Trudy knew that she had made a mistake. It was easy to forget after being away from home these last years. A little ‘goddamm’ was no big deal to her, but to her mother it was a sacrilege. Trudy was determined not to let this ruin the day before it even started.
“Sorry, Mom. It won’t happen again. It just slipped out, I don’t know what I was thinking. So tell me about the letter. How come it took from 1970 to 1995 to get a letter from southeast Asia to Fair Bluffs. I thought since Dad was shot down and killed in combat over Vietnam, they would have tried a little harder to deliver his last letter to you.”
“Well, none of us knew that there was a last letter. It was quite a shock when the man from the post office called here last month. After all these years, a day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of your father. I still miss him. But now, its like I’m going to have him back again. If only for a day. It’s not much, but it’s more than I had before.” She rubbed her eyes with her apron as she turned away.
“Aw Mom, it’s okay if you want to cry. Let it out. “ said Trudy.
“I’m not crying, I think I just got some bacon grease in my eye. I promised myself I wasn’t going to cry. There’s no need to, this is a happy occasion for the whole family. Come over here Trudy and watch these eggs while I check on the biscuits. Joe should be here any minute and everything is just about ready.”
Trudy went over to the stove and poked at the fried eggs with a spatula.
“You told me last night that you were having some of the cousins and aunts and uncles over today. If you count the seven or eight neighbors, we’ll have over twenty people. Maybe we should cut it back. Maybe you’d like this to be a little more private. It’s not every day that you get a letter from someone who’s been dead for twenty five years.” Trudy said.
“I can’t help the crowd. Everyone that’s coming are friends of your father and myself. There’s also going to be some kind of reporter from the county paper. Of course, Mr. Pappin from the post office will be here too. He’s the one who is going to deliver the letter to me personally. He’s the postmaster over in Carleton. He was quite nice on the phone and apologized for the mistake. It should work out okay.”
At that moment, Trudy’s brother Joe walked in the back door.
“Morning Mom, long time no see ‘sis.” He came over and hugged Trudy and pulled out a chair and sat at the table.
“All set for the big day? What time do the festivities begin?” said Joe
“I told everybody to be here around noon. I’m going to serve pie and coffee afterwards, nothing fancy.
“I was over at the IGA on Thursday,” said Joe , “and Ed Widdoes said that you were going to read the letter out loud to everyone. They’re all itchin’ to hear what Dad had to say in that letter. Like it could be something pretty important.”
to be continued….
copyright @2020 bill melnik