Returned With Notes
romanceEveryoneA week goes by. Then two. The box fills with cookbooks and a phone manual. No blue pen. Fine. It was a stranger. It was nothing. Week three, my book is back — with a pressed flower flattened at chapter 12 and one page corner folded down. The folded page has a line underlined: 'I kept meaning to come back.' Below it, in blue: 'Sorry. Family stuff. Did you miss me?'
Under 'Did you miss me?' I write the true thing instead of the cool thing: 'I checked the box every day. Twice on Tuesdays.' Then, before I can stop myself: 'Is the family stuff okay?' Book goes in the box. Gone by evening. It's back in TWO days. Blue pen, smaller than usual: 'Mom's better. You're the first person who asked. — M' A letter. I finally have a letter.
What happens next?
1 ways forwardUnder 'You're the first person who asked,' I write my name. My real one. And: 'The box is too slow. Tuesday, 6, the bakery on the corner?' The book disappears that night. Tuesday, 5:50, I'm outside the bakery rereading chapter 12 like it's homework. 'Black pen?' says a voice. M is holding the book. The pressed flower is taped to the cover now, like a badge. 'Maya,' she says. 'Hi.' The bakery closed at seven. We were still talking on its steps at nine.