Noah
The Week Before Christmas
Dinner with Iris and Zach had been wonderful, and I’d left there with a plan to speak to Mindi this week, only she hadn’t been to the community center at all. In fact, she’d called in every day this week, and Sarah hadn’t shown up for her appointment either.
It was a little after ten when I left The Crispy Biscuit, coffee in hand. I’d intended to head on over to the bookstore but was surprised when I looked across the street to see Mindi’s car in the parking lot, a light dusting of snow covering it.
I glanced both ways and ran across the street to the community center, pulling the door open.
“Hey, Ethan,” I said, raising my hand to him as he stood in the hallway helping one kid with his hat.
“Morning, Noah. I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning. Did you decide to come and join us for skating time?”
I glanced at my watch and then remembered seeing the memo in my email about that yesterday, but I’d forgotten to reply.
“I actually came in to see Mindi. We kept missing each other this week, and I just saw her car outside.”
Ethan glanced over his shoulder at her closed door, finished up with Tyson’s hat, and sent him on his way before turning to me.
“You haven’t spoken to her yet?”
“No, we sort of had a bit of a falling out, and…”
“Yeah, I know. I could sense the tension between the two of you. So I asked, and she told us the other night at dinner. She was pretty upset. We talked her into speaking with you, and she said she was going to speak with you this week. So, just to make it clear, you haven’t spoken to her at all, in any way? ”
“No, I uh, I haven’t heard from her at all. Today is the first day I think she’s been here.”
“She didn’t email you or call either?” Ethan frowned, once again looking at her door with concern.
“No, not a word. Why, is something wrong?”
Ethan once again glanced at the door and then shook his head.
“I’ll leave you to it. I got to go deal with the kids and then pick up the hot chocolate for them.”
“Have a good one. I might pop out after.”
“Great, hope to see you.”
Ethan took off out the door, and that was when Mindi’s door opened and she came out of her office, accompanied by two men and a woman who were dressed in military uniforms. She spoke quietly with them and then shook their hands, nodding as they spoke.
I watched as they turned and began walking my way, the three of them nodding at me.
Once they left the building, I looked back toward Mindi’s office, noticing that she was gone.
I made my way to her office door and poked my head inside. She stood with her back to the door, her shoulders shaking as if she were crying.
“Hey,” I said, not wanting to startle her.
She turned around and looked at me. Her eyes were darker than I’d ever seen them, which concerned me.
“Hey, Noah,” she mumbled before blowing her nose.
“Could we talk?” I asked, my eyes running over her body.
She turned away from me and shook her head. “Right now isn’t a great time.”
“It won’t take long,” I promised.
The air between us grew thicker as she stood there and let out a sigh before turning to me.
“Fine, what do you want?” she barked as she looked at me.
“Who were you speaking with?” I questioned.
“It doesn’t matter who they were. Now what do you want?” she asked, glaring at me.
“I want to talk to you about the other night,” I said.
“There really isn’t much to say,” she said, flopping down in her chair. “It’s done, you said so yourself. So really there is no point in trying to discuss things.”
“I know what I said, but I wasn’t fair to you. I should have given you a chance to explain, but I didn’t. So I’m asking you to tell me your side of things.”
There were so many questions in her eyes as she stared at me. “Fine, what do you want to know?”
“I want to know what happened between us,” I said.
“Well, according to you, you already know,” she said, glaring at me.
I didn’t blame her for being so standoffish. I’d been horrible to her after we’d spent a wonderful night together.
“Mindi, please tell me your side.”
“What? Why? So you won’t believe me again?”
“Please, Mindi.”
“Fine, I got that stupid card a few weeks ago. I never got it the year you sent it. Instead, I got a letter, and I responded, only to have it returned to me. I continued to write to you for an entire year after that, while I waited, holding my breath, for a single response from you. Only I never heard a word. Your parents had left, the military wouldn’t answer me, and without knowing if you were alive or dead, it was pointless to continue, so I stopped. ”
“You stopped?”
“Yes, I stopped writing to you. I had no choice but to assume you were dead, and mourning you was the only way I could get over you and move on.”
The room grew quiet as we looked at one another. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her about the letters in the box I’d seen on her dresser.
“What is it?” she demanded.
“What?”
“What do you want to know? I can see you’re teetering on asking me something, so just get it out of the way.”
“I saw the letters in the box, next to the Christmas card.”
“So that automatically makes you think I’ve had that card all along, and what, that I just dig those out to torture myself every year? I may not have much of a life, but I do have one.”
“Why would you say that? You have an amazing life.”
“Listen, I don’t need you to tell me how amazing my life is. What you need to know is that when I got that card, I took a trip down memory lane, probably more times than I should have. I hadn’t opened them in years.”
“Okay, so you say the letters you wrote were returned to you. Where are those letters?”
She looked at me, eyes full of tears and disbelief that I’d ask her that.
Without a word, she turned around, opened the door of the cupboard behind her, and reached up, pulling down a black box.
She turned back to me, placing the box down on the desk and wiping the lid, removing a thick layer of dust before lifting the lid to see an entire box full of those pink envelopes she used to send me.
“Here,” she said, “take it.”
I took a step forward as she made her way over toward the window and looked out over the park. I grabbed two of the letters from the box, both marked with a return to sender stamp.
“Mindi, I—”
“Just take them Noah. They are yours, after all. Take them, read them, burn them, do whatever you want; I don’t care. Just take them and go.” She sniffled.
I stood there, afraid to make a move for fear she got angry or upset.
They’d all been returned to her because I’d left the post I’d been stationed at right after Christmas that year.
They moved me to an undisclosed location.
I couldn’t tell anyone where I was going, so it wasn’t a wonder that those letters had been returned.
“Mindi, you need to know—”
“I need to know nothing. Now I told you to take them. You got what you wanted.”
She spun around, picked up the box, and shoved it toward me. “Get out!” she screamed.
I backed up and out into the hall when she whipped the box in my direction and slammed her office door shut. She pulled the blinds down and left me standing in the hallway with the box of letters.
I stood there, shocked that she’d thrown me out, but yet I waited for a bit, to see if she’d open the door. After a while, I finally gave up and picked up the box on the floor, then left the community center and made my way home.
I pushed my empty plate off to the side and picked up the bottle of beer I’d been nursing during the hockey game.
My team had just scored, and yet I didn’t feel even the slightest amount of happiness.
The confrontation with Mindi this afternoon was weighing heavily on my mind, and then I glanced at the black box I’d brought home.
I hadn’t had the courage to open it yet, but I’d looked over at it many times tonight.
Finally, I reached over and pulled the lid off the box, pulling out the letter that lay on top.
I looked over the envelope. The postmark was almost exactly one year after I’d sent that Christmas card.
The envelope was tattered, dirty, but unopened, and so I took a deep breath and opened the letter.
There wasn’t much written, but what was written was direct and to the point.
Dear Noah,
It’s been a year since I last heard from you.
While I’ve tried to get an updated address or location for you, the military is keeping tight-lipped.
I’m guessing that perhaps something horrible has happened to you, and while I have tried to keep hope alive that one day you will return, I know I need to move on.
I can’t keep living in this state of the unknown.
So, as hard as it might be, especially at this time of the year, I have to say goodbye to you and the dream of us being together.
My heart will forever be yours. Until we meet again, Mindi.
I stared at the words she’d written. She’d been telling me the truth.
I dug into the box and pulled another letter from the center of the box, seeing the same thing on the envelope.
The postmark date and then returned. I reached in and pulled another one to see the same thing once again.
Instead of just pulling a random letter, I grabbed the entire pile in the box, every one of them said the same thing.
I’d been an absolute fool.
I flipped the letters over and took the very first one she’d written, opened the envelope, and began reading.