The Letter - Chapter 30

“Home sweet home,” I said to myself as I turned the key and pushed open my front door in Issaquah.  I carried my suitcase into my bedroom to unpack later.  I looked around for my mail, but Beverly must have kept it at her house.  I turned up the heat and walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.  It was about two o’clock in the afternoon.  The nice thing about flying west is that you still have a good part of the day left when you arrive.  I filled the tea strainer with Earl Gray tea leaves and poured boiling water into my cup.  The scent of the Earl Gray wafted to my nostrils.  While I waited, I decided to phone Beverly.

“Hi, Beverly.  I’m back!”

“Ellie!  I hope you enjoyed yourself.  I’ll be right over with your mail.”

“No rush.  I just got in.  Haven’t even unpacked yet.”

“I’ll give you a little time to get settled.  Be there in less than half an hour.”

I carried my tea into the bedroom and unzipped my suitcase.  I threw the clothes I had worn on the floor and put away the clean ones.  I picked up the clothes to be washed and carried them to the laundry, tossing them into a laundry basket for the time being.  I went back to fetch my tea, and the doorbell rang.

“Ellie!  Welcome home!  Beverly opened her arms.  I let her in and gave her a hug.  I took her coat and hung it in the closet. “So, tell me about your trip,” Beverly said, picking up the bag of mail she had carried in.  “Are wedding bells in your future?”

“Afraid not, at least based on this visit.  George was a no-show at the basketball game.  Turns out he was at an anti-gun vigil.  I actually saw him on the eleven o’clock news.”

“Really?  How’d he look?”

.

“Actually, pretty good.  Men age so much better than we do.”

“So did you call him to talk about his TV appearance?”

“No, Beverly.  I don’t feel I know him well enough for that.  This was all a lark anyhow.  I think this idea of connecting with my high school heartthrob has run its course.  Let me make you some tea.”  I led Beverly into the kitchen.  She set the bag with my mail on the kitchen table.

“Maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to give up.  I saw a personal letter from Pittsburgh in your mail.”  Beverly looked into the bag and shuffled its contents until she found what she was looking for.  “Ah, here it is.”  She handed me an envelope.

“My address is typed, and there’s no return address,” I said examining the envelope.  But it does have a Pittsburgh postmark.  I walked over to my desk to get my letter opener, opened the envelope and pulled out its contents.  A single sheet – typed.

“What does it say, Ellie?  Is it from George?”

I started reading it.

Eleanor, Ellie or whatever your name is . . .

I read a few lines silently and then couldn’t see to read further through the tears that filled my eyes.  “Oh, Beverly, this is horrible.”  I tried to wipe the tears away.  “I’ve made a complete and utter fool of myself for this jerk.  What could I have been thinking?”

“Let me see that.”  Beverly snatched the letter from my hands and started reading it out loud:

Your recent letter was quite amusing.  I really can’t say I remember any Eleanor Kosko, which means either you were quite forgettable or my early onset Alzheimer’s wiped you from my memory bank.  Your unsigned letter was downright hurtful as I struggled with my disease to remember those from my high school years that might be worth remembering.  Certainly your name was not one I’d ever come up with.  I frankly can’t understand why you would try to meet me – unless it was some misguided notion of potential romance upon hearing about my divorce.  Let me shut the door on any such notion.  Regardless of the divorce, my heart will always belong to my ex-wife, as I pray that she will someday return to me.  By the way, a perfumed letter?  Really?  Please leave me alone.  George Leskovic

“Wow!”  Beverly waved the letter like a fan.  “Did you have any idea this George was such an ass?”

“Of course not.  He always seemed so nice.  Early onset Alzheimer’s?  I’ve heard there is a stage where patients turn nasty.  Could that be the cause of him being so hurtful?”

“I don’t know, Ellie.  How did he seem when you saw him on television?”

“He seemed normal.  Nice actually.  Articulate.   He spoke about the vigil and why it was important.  He did slug that guy who grabbed him.  Maybe that was the real George coming through.”

“You know he has a blog don’t you, Ellie?”

“No, I had no idea.”

“I guess I found it while you were traveling.  He writes humorous stories and occasionally editorials about current topics – global warming, gun control.  I actually enjoyed reading his stuff and had planned to show the blog to you when you returned.  That’s why I find this letter so jarring.  It just doesn’t sound like the same guy.  In fact, after reading his blog, I was going to tell you that if you aren’t interested in him, I might take a shot myself.  Just kidding.  But, this letter.   It’s crazy.

“I have half a notion of sending a nastygram back to old George to give him a piece of my mind.”

“I don’t blame you.”  Beverly gulped down the last of her tea and stood up.  “But my advice is hold your fire for now.  I want to check a few things out.  Don’t do anything rash until I get back to you.”  Beverly came around behind me, draped an arm over my shoulder and hugged.  “Don’t let this bother you too much Ellie dear.  Methinks I smell a rat.  Let me ponder this development, and I will be in touch.”

I got up and followed Beverly to the front door.  “What do you plan to do?”

‘Let dear Aunt Beverly do a little ciphering, honey.  I think there’s a puzzle here and I’m determined to figure it out.  Ta, Ta dear.  Keep up a stiff upper lip!” 

Beverly put on her coat walked out the door and down the front sidewalk.  I waved as she turned in the direction of her neighborhood.