Special Delivery

SPECIAL DELIVERY
by

Michelle Kane ©2004


“I think it’s about time you start getting out again.”
My sister’s words crash into my ear, as I think that she should learn how to mind her own business. Why can’t we ever have a normal conversation about the weather, or our parents, or jobs? Why does it always have to be about my love life?
“It’s been almost two years since Aaron died. It’s time you start dating, Autumn.”
“Okay, I promise. I’ll try,” I say. “Bye sis, love you.”
I hang up the phone, sighing with relief that she hasn’t mentioned fixing me up with one of her co-workers or neighbors again. My sister Dawn, always trying to play matchmaker. Easy for her. She still has her husband. Alive, healthy and strong. Brad didn’t die in a horrible car accident, like my Aaron. Dawn and Brad, the perfect, happy couple, with their three beautiful children. Children that Aaron and I planned on having. We were going to start a family soon.
“I want to spend the first year of our marriage, giving all of my love to you,” he used to say. “Only you. I love you so much. I can’t stand to share it with anyone else. Soon after we will create a little mini-us.”
Then he would kiss me. The same kiss that reminded me of why I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. I will never get those kisses back again.
A drunk driver who had just left happy hour at the local Irish pub killed Aaron on his way home from work.
Happy hour.
I snicker aloud at the irony. One drunken idiot’s happy hour became years of heartbreak and emptiness for me. I can’t imagine ever loving another man.

The annoying buzz of the doorbell interrupts my thoughts. Who is this intruder? I drag myself over to the door and peer through the window. Can never be too careful; especially being a widow, alone in such a big house. Our house—our first house together as newlyweds. Now it’s nothing but a haunted house visited by the ghosts of weddings past. A stabbing reminder that “till death do we part” happened much too soon, much too quickly, and much too young for a man who hadn’t even had a chance. Man and wife becoming one; ripped into shredded bits of nothing.
I try to shake the cobwebs out of head before opening the door to the unknown on the other side. A tall man with dark hair and a handsome face stares back at me. His dark green eyes lock with mine, as I hold in a small, breathless gasp.

“Yes?” I ask, peering at him suspiciously.
“Hi. I’m your new neighbor from across the street. Brian Tellson.” He stretches out a large hand and reaches for mine. I shake his hand and notice a white envelope in the other.
“Nice to meet you Brian,” I manage weakly. “I’m Autumn Anderson.”
“Oh, well I just wanted to come over and say hello, and also give you some mail I got by mistake. Sorry I didn’t make it over sooner, I’ve been here about a month now, but have just been so busy getting settled in and all.” He hands me the letter. “It’s addressed to Aaron Anderson. Must be for your husband.”
My shaky hand snatches the mail from his strong grip. I stare at my husband’s name in the envelope window. So clear and bold and vivid the letters are, almost as if they could come alive. “I don’t know why they keep sending this junk. My husband’s been dead for two years now,” I snap.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Brian says. His gaze drops to his feet on my porch. “I shouldn’t have…I mean…if I would have known…”
I smile up at his friendly face. “It’s okay, you didn’t know. And obviously neither do any of these credit card companies that keep sending offers to a dead man. Even six feet under, he still has excellent credit.”
Brian laughs nervously. “I’m so sorry, Autumn. I had no idea.” He gently takes the letter from my hand. Let me take care of this for you.”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling uncomfortable. “Um, would you like to come in for a cup of coffee or something?”
“Thanks. But maybe another time. I have some paper shredding to do.” Looking embarrassed, my new neighbor backs away from me and jogs across the street to his house. He turns to wave. “Nice meeting you, Autumn Anderson. See you soon.”
“Yeah, see ya, Brian.” I wave half-heartedly and shut the door behind me. I peek through the curtains again and notice him fumbling with his front doorknob, visibly shaken.
Intrigued, by my handsome new neighbor, I could hardly wait to see him again. Maybe I should be neighborly and bake him some fresh cookies to take over. The next night, with a dozen warm chocolate chip cookies in hand, I boldly walk across the street and knock on Brian’s door. Why? It’s not like I wanted anything. Just to thank him for bringing over the mail, that’s all.

Brian opens the door, a look of surprise on his face. “Oh, hi Autumn. What a pleasant surprise. Come in.”

I step into the foyer, suddenly feeling very foolish. “I, uh, just wanted to thank you for bringing over the mail,” I stammer. “Here.” I thrust the plate of cookies at him.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that. Thanks.” He smiles, revealing perfect straight, white teeth. “Hey, I was just sitting down to dinner. It’s nothing fancy. Just some lasagna. My parents own an Italian restaurant downtown, where I cook sometimes. I whipped up a new recipe up to try out there. Would you like to be my guinea pig?” Brian cocks his head to one side and smiles. Aaron used to do that—especially when he was trying to talk me into something I didn’t want to do.

“Oh no,” I couldn’t,” I say, glancing towards my house. I wasn’t ready for dinner with another man. I’ve never eaten dinner with another man…since…the accident.
“Come on, pleassseee…. I hate to eat alone.”
Aaron used to hate eating alone. In fact, he couldn’t stand it. Even if I wasn’t hungry, he liked me to sit by him while he ate. He’d hold my hand with his left, while he ate with his right. He said it made him feel less lonely.
“Okay. I’ll stay for one piece of lasagna.”
“Great. Right this way, beautiful lady.” Brian leads me to the dining room and pours me a glass of wine. He serves me salad, pasta, and garlic toast. The bread was hot, crusty and buttery and the salad crisp with fresh grape tomatoes. We talk for a long time about our jobs, goals, dreams, and fears. It feels like love all over again. Aaron and I had talks like these when we first fell in love.
“Let me help you with the dishes,” I say, pushing myself up from the table and away from the wine. “It’s the least I can do for such a wonderful meal.”

“No, Autumn, please sit down and relax,” Brian says, reaching for my hand, which is full of dirty plates.

“Don’t be silly. I got it,” I say, rushing to the kitchen before he can stop me. Plates in hand, I gasp as I notice the name Aaron Anderson on what appears to be at least three dozen letters covering every inch of counter space in the kitchen. My hand goes to them, fanning envelopes out to read the addresses. Aaron Anderson. Mr. Aaron J. Anderson. Mr. Anderson. Plates smashing to the ground, I cry out in horror.

Startled, Brian rushes into the kitchen. “Autumn, what’s wrong?”

“How could you?” I cry, unable to stop the tears streaming down my face. “The letters. My husband’s…what are you doing? Are you sick or something?” I pound my fists into his chest and scream, “he’s dead, he’s dead…he’s not ever coming back!”
Brian gently holds my hands at my sides, then slowly begins to circle his arms around me. “Shhh, everything is going to be okay. It’s okay Autumn.” He hugs me tighter to his body and I feel myself melting into him, like hot fudge on top of a cold ice cream sundae. Melting.
Melting.
Melting.
I stiffen my back and look up into deep, emerald eyes. Can I trust this stranger? He’s so new, yet so familiar, as if I have known him my entire life. “But why? Brian, why, do you have so many of Aaron’s letters?” Confused, I search his face for answers.
Brian lets out a sigh and cups my face with his strong, soft hands. “The other day…when I came over Autumn…” he hesitates.
“Go on.”
“I only brought the one letter because I didn’t want to upset you. Actually, ever since I moved in, I’ve been getting junk mail addressed to Aaron Anderson. I wasn’t sure what to do with it.”
“What? Why not? I don’t understand why you brought only one letter to me, and not the others. It just doesn’t make sense.”
He gazes into my eyes and gently strokes my hair. “I never saw a Mr. Anderson,” he whispers.
“What?”
“I never saw your husband. I noticed you. All the time. Coming home alone, carrying in groceries alone, doing yard work alone. You are so beautiful…I couldn’t comprehend that there was no husband. I had to make sure…I had to meet you and find out the truth about you…so I just brought the one letter. After you told me what happened to Aaron, I knew if I gave you the rest of his letters, I’d have to see that awful pain in your eyes again. I couldn’t stand to hurt you, so I planned on shredding the rest of the letters…but I was too late. I didn’t know you were coming over.” He smiles and pulls me closer. “I’m just so glad you did.”
“That’s the nicest thing that anyone’s ever done for me.” I let the tears fall freely, as Brian sweetly kisses them away.