The Letter - Chapter 3

I heard the water start to boil and pulled the jar full of assorted tea bags from the shelf above the kitchen table.  Earl Grey seems somehow appropriate, I thought as I poured the hot water into the mug containing the tea bag.  When the tea was ready, I added sugar and a dollop of milk.  I sat down at the kitchen table and picked up the letter.

Dear George,

You may be surprised to be hearing from me after all these years.  In fact, you may be surprised to be hearing from me at all.  Though we graduated from high school together, I don’t believe we ever spoke more than a word or two with one another the entire time we were there.  We were only in one class together our sophomore year - English with Mr. Bennett.  So you are probably wondering why I decided to write this letter to you now.

The phone rang.  I considered ignoring it, as I walked over to check the number on the caller I.D.  It was my brother.  I waited for the answering machine to pick up the call.

“George.  I hope you‘re there.  Please pick up.  I’ve got sort of an emergency . . ..”

“Hello,” I said picking up the receiver.  “Bob, what’s up?”

“George, hello.  Thanks for picking up.  Hey, my car conked out.  I’m out here on Route 88.  I called triple A, but they told me it’s likely to be two hours before they can get a tow truck out to me.  They said they’d give me, like, a fifteen minute warning before the tow truck gets here.  Is there any way, you could come out and get me?  Maybe we can go someplace to get a coffee while I’m waiting.  It’s cold as hell out here, and you can’t be more than twenty minutes or so from where I’m stranded.  What do you say, brother?  Can you help me out?”

I hesitated for a second, but knew I had no choice.  “Sure, Bob.  I’ll be right there.  Now where exactly are you?”

“Out on 88.  I’m about a mile from that little shopping center where there’s a coffee shop.  Uh, what’s the name of the place?  It’s not a Starbucks.  It’s an independent.” 

“The Mug and Kettle?”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“As I recall, they have great coffee and they make their own pastries.  Soup too.  You’re a mile on what side of the shopping center?” I asked.

“Towards your place.  You sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“No.  Nothing important.”

“George, I really appreciate this.”

“Not a  problem, Bob.  See you soon.”  

I grabbed my coat and hat but had some trouble finding my keys.  I raced from room to room searching until I spotted them on the floor beneath the front table.  They must have fallen when I tossed them there last evening.  I picked up the keys and noticed that the book I’d been reading was on the coffee table.  I grabbed it and headed out the door.  This could be a long wait.