Shirlene
The days are long and the nights unbearable without you.
My fear is that my love burns brighter than yours.
But you will forever have my heart.
I snorted with laughter.
A stop at the post office had been on my itinerary after work so I could pick up Jack’s mail for him.
It turned out he only had a couple of envelopes.
Before I left the post office, like every other Possibilian—was I a Possibilian?
—I had to stop by the Wall of Shirlene Letters.
Mostly because Sofia had mentioned that a new one had arrived.
I ended up reading it with her rushing around the counter to read along over my shoulder.
Surely, Sofia had read the letter at least a dozen times since its arrival, but she seemed to never tire of the mystery of Shirlene.
Nor did she get bored with reading the love letters over and over.
Even though she had access to all of them all day long, they inspired an excitement in her that was enviable.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt that excited about anything.
“It might turn out to be someone you hate,” I said over my shoulder. “Or someone who doesn’t really…match up…to your, uh, needs?”
It was Sofia’s turn to laugh.
“Well,” she said, finally, “it’d be worth the effort. There’s obviously a good one out there just wanting to be loved. I got some love.”
“I don’t know, Sofia,” I said, turning to face her in the icy interior of the post office. Floorboards creaked underfoot in a way that felt homey and lived in, not as though they were in disrepair.
She took a step back to give me space.
“It could be a stalker,” I continued. “This person does seem pretty obsessed. Especially for someone who doesn’t have Shirlene’s real address, you know?”
Sofia contemplated this for a moment, hemming and hawing over the idea.
“Nah,” she said, finally. “I disagree, Jordan. This person obviously has it bad and just got their wires crossed with the address.”
“Fair enough.”
I thought about it for a moment, unsure if I should solicit Sofia’s opinions or theories, but finally decided it couldn’t hurt.
“Who do you think it is?” I mumbled.
“Hm?”
“Who do you think is really sending the letters to Shirlene?” I asked after clearing my throat.
“Like, do you think it’s someone in town?
In Possibly? Do you think there’s a real Shirlene?
Is that her real name? Is it some type of performance art?
It’s just so odd that there has to be something going on with these letters, right? ”
I punctuated my sentence with a jab of my thumb over my shoulder at the wall.
Sofia looked amused.
“You know,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, “we’ve been talking about that since the day the first one arrived.”
“Really?”
She nodded slowly. “All-a-us in town. Is it one of us? Is one of us in love with another one of us and just doesn’t know how to say it? Is one of us pulling the whole town’s leg? Who is the most likely suspect if it is one of us? You know?”
“And?”
“We don’t have the foggiest idea,” she said, then started cackling and slapping at her knee. “We’ve all been the suspect at one point or another.”
“Well, crap.”
She gave an exaggerated shrug. “Sorry. You’re fairly new to town or you’d know that we’ve been theorizing over the letter writer’s identity forever. And who Shirlene really is. Does she exist? Is that a fake name or a metaphor? No one knows. And if they do, they ain’t talkin’.”
With a sigh, I threw my hands up lazily.
Sofia mimicked me and we both laughed.
“Well,” I held the two pieces of mail up, “thanks. I’ll make sure Jack gets these.”
I headed to the door.
“Anytime,” Sofia said. “Tell him I said to not be a stranger. He could make his way downtown every now and then instead of hiding out over there. It’s not a far walk.”
I grinned at her over my shoulder and she gave me a wink, then I was stepping out into the August heat.
The teal clapboard siding of the post office shone like a precious gem in the bright midday sun.
Sofia kept the post office so cold that the summer heat was even more oppressive than on a typical day.
Even a few minutes inside the post office would make a person forget how hot summer in Texas could be.
Then, once they got outside, it would nearly knock a person over.
The sun was committing assault against the world.
A quick flick of my eyes, and I spotted Levi Lee slumped beside the door of Starbuck’s.
At first, my instinct was to rush over and make sure he was okay.
Especially since his green-screen suit was in a wadded pile on the ground next to him.
Seeing Levi Lee sitting there in his boxer briefs against the hull of the ship was a reason for concern.
However, after a second, Levi Lee’s head turned lazily and he spotted me. His arm rose languidly and he waved at me, a small smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
“Someone turned the thermostat to Hell!” He waved at me.
I chuckled.
“Yeah!” I responded. “You might want to come visit Sofia and cool off, man!”
Levi Lee nodded and slowly pulled himself up off the ground. When he was standing beside the door of Starbuck’s, clad only in his underwear, I looked away quickly. He had sweated through his underwear and they were clinging to him salaciously.
“Put on some pants first, Levi Lee!” I suggested.
I was met with silence for a moment.
“Oh! Good advice!”
I just imagined the guy looking down to find what I’d seen before realizing that, even nude, he couldn’t have been more indecent.
How a man could…be like Levi Lee…and so unaware of how he was…
built…was beyond me. Obviously, no one had ever told the guy that he should keep baggy loose-fitting pants on at all times.
Then again, everyone’s tolerance and acceptance of such things was different.
In fact, it wasn’t that it necessarily bothered me.
Levi Lee’s physique, I mean.
In fact, I didn’t mind at all.
Surely someone did though, right?
Then again, was I assuming offense for everyone else in town, when in reality, no one gave a damn if Levi Lee decided to march through town naked in all of his glory?
That was how Possibly operated after all—you do you and I’ll do me.
Don’t bother me and I won’t bother you. If walking through town in a green-screen suit that showed off his assets far too well was what made Levi Lee happy—though I didn’t feel that was his reason for doing so—then everyone was going to allow it.
In fact, Levi Lee seemed to be oblivious to his assets.
To him, it was just natural to go about his business the way he did.
He was always covered up, after all, so why should he assume that anyone would be bothered?
Why did I assume that?
Was I assuming people would be offended, or was I trying to avoid a distraction? Was I avoiding my own hidden thoughts Levi Lee made me think?
I shook my head to clear that train of thought from my head.
When I’d ventured over to Sofia’s from Starbuck’s—when Levi Lee was still pressed up against its hull—I had two errands in mind.
I’d completed one of them, so it was time to move onto the next.
Levi Lee was a grown man who had lived in Possibly much longer than I.
He could figure out the best way to present himself to the rest of the town without my help.
As I made my way from the post office, I decided to walk along the bank of Susurrus Creek.
It might have been totally in my head, but walking along the creek seemed cooler than walking through town.
The breeze seemed to glide over and rise up off the water a few degrees cooler.
The sounds of the rushing water had a placebo effect as well.
It sounded cool, so it made me feel cool.
That was dumb, I knew, but if something works, you don’t really question it. Walking along the bank of Susurrus Creek made the August sun more bearable, so I was going to go with it.
D’yer Mak’er by Led Zepplin was playing on the radio speakers around town and matched the warm, lazy mood of Possibly.
Everyone who was out and about was shuffling slowly, doing all they could to avoid overexertion.
Or they were strolling with long, happy—yet slow—steps to their destination, letting summer know it hadn’t gotten the best of them.
Jasper was sitting in the tram car at the end of the tracks on Liberty Lane by the edge of Susurrus Creek. Instead of reading his book, he was fanning himself with a magazine, appearing as if he wanted to melt and slide out of the tram to a puddle on the ground.
“Ain’t been this hot in a witch’s share of summers,” he said to me as I walked by and smiled at him.
“It’s bad, yeah,” I said with a chuckle.
What seemed like it was becoming an ever-present feature, a trickle of sweat was snaking its way between my shoulder blades, moving south quickly, under my shirt.
“No month can last longer than thirty-one days,” Jasper said. “August will leave when it has worn out its welcome.”
How to respond to that eluded me, so I simply nodded and chuckled in agreement. Jasper went back to slumping in his seat and fanning himself, and I continued on my way north along the creek. As I strolled across Liberty Lane, I spotted Earl Dean and Officer Hanning. They had changed their routine.
Instead of Officer Hanning leaning against the side of AMOR, watching Earl Dean pickaxe the street, they were both sitting outside of AMOR, their backs propped up along the wall.
Their legs were stretched out before them lazily, effectively blocking the sidewalk.
Each of them held a bottle of soda, taking leisurely sips, engaged in an easy conversation about God knew what.
I’d never really seen Earl Dean speak to anyone, other to greet them in passing, but it made sense that if he would have a conversation with anyone in town, it would be Officer Hanning.
They spent most of their days together, after all.