The Letter - Chapter 15

I was struggling to finish a letter to the editor on the health care debate.  It was getting way too long.  I would have to either be more succinct or add more details and submit it to the Post-Gazette as an Op-Ed piece.  I stared at my laptop’s screen, considering the best way to make my points when my cell phone rang.  I picked it up and looked to see who was calling.  It was a restricted number – probably a sales person.  But, on the other hand, could it possibly be the letter writer? I wondered. I pushed the green button.

“Hello?” I said hesitantly.  “Who is this?”

“George?  Is that you?”

I felt my heart sink.  “Missy,” I said to my ex-wife.  “It’s been a while.”

 

“You know I hate that name,” she sounded annoyed.

“Sorry, Melissa.  To what do I owe the pleasure?”  I tried to recall the last time we’d talked. Nearly two years, excepting those few times we were forced to communicate to get the divorce finalized.  Thankfully, she had wanted nothing except out of our marriage.

“I saw you at Jennifer’s play,” she said.  “I thought you might come over to say ‘hi.’”

“I thought it best that I not encroach on your time with Jennifer.  I didn’t want to spoil her triumphant evening. It was quite a surprise to her that you came.”  I picked up a pencil and nervously tapped it on my desk.  More a shock than a surprise.  You’ve shown no interest in our daughter since you left us.  And Richard was there with you.  What was I supposed to do with him?  Shake his hand?  Where was this going?  I spun around in my swivel chair and stared out the window.

“I’m glad I was able to be there.” Melissa said.  “Our daughter is quite an actress.  Is she considering pursuing theater as a career?”

“Not as far as I know.  She says she wants to be a teacher.”  You might know this if you ever would have called to talk to her since her sophomore year.

“Really?  That would be a waste.  You know, Richard and I were talking after the show.  Sewickley Academy has a great drama department.  His boys went to school there.  Auditions for their spring musical are coming up.”

I swiveled my chair back and started doodling on a piece of scrap paper.  “What are you suggesting, Mis, I’m sorry, Melissa?”  Why should I care what Richard thinks about anything?

“Uh, never mind.  So are you around the house most days, now that you’re no longer working?”

I frowned at her dig at my decision to retire from my law practice to pursue writing. “Yes, I’m usually in my office writing from mid-morning till early afternoon.”

“Still working on The Great American Novel?  How much of an advance did they offer you?”

Another dig.  I’d not yet made a penny from my writing.  “I’m working on a few things.  I’m enjoying my work.  Jennifer and I have enough to get by.”  Thank you at least for running off with a guy who is filthy rich and not squeezing me for alimony. I stuck the pencil back in my desk drawer and turned again to look out the window.  It was beginning to snow.

“Anyway, I have something to give you.  I thought I might stop by sometime next week.”

“What is it, Melissa?”

“It will be a surprise, George.  I’m not quite sure when it will be ready, but I can assure you it will be a complete surprise,” Melissa said.  “Goodbye, George.  Give my best to Jennifer.”  Melissa terminated the call.

I stared at the snow coming down outside.  Just a few flurries or the approach of another storm?  Time would tell.