Annie is horribly damaged by life.
She believes she cannot be loved.
Then Bud becomes her pen pal
and love finds them both...
in one way or another.
Every few days I will post a little more.
Soon you will be able to read it all.
If you absolutely can't wait to find out
what happens between Annie and Bud,
(and I hope you can't!)
you are welcome to click a link and buy an e-book or a paperback copy.
And now, today's post:
CHAPTER 3
Written Saturday, May 15, 2004
I regret to inform you that two weeks ago Bennie was hit by a car
while walking home from work. He did not survive. I am sorry for your loss and
offer you my condolences.
Sincerely,
Lawrence Wallace
After printing it, I found an oversized envelope, addressed it by
hand, included Annie’s unopened last letter to Bennie, put three stamps on it
just in case, and took it to the mailbox. Duty done. Nap time.
Three weeks later another letter arrived from her, only this time
it was addressed to me.
Picking up the mail was a chore I had come to dread since
Bennie’s death. The pile usually contained one of three things – junk mail,
bills, and sympathy cards. The junk mail was easy. I threw it all away,
unopened. The bills weren’t much harder. Those I paid. It was the sympathy
cards that gave me trouble. They were sent with love, but each one reminded me
of my best friend’s death and the pain I was trying to forget.
As annoying as they were, however, the junk mail, bills, and cards were expected. Annie’s letter
wasn’t.
Received Saturday, June 5, 2004
Dear Bud,
I hope its okey to call you bud because Bennie said that is
your name not Lawrence although Lawrence is but he said you go by bud.
I am so sorry that Bennie was killd. He was a good freind. I
liked talking with him alot in writing. I will miss his letters. Can you tell
me how he died? He told me about you he said you were his best friend and all
that. How did you and him meet is it a good story? I like to know this. Rite
back soon.
Thank you,
Annie
The quality of her letter surprised me. Though I had witnessed
Annie’s accident and had been with Bennie when he saved her life, I had never
met her or read anything she had written. Bennie, nice guy to the core, hadn’t
talked much about her or the letters, and I had never asked. I didn’t care. However, I
had always assumed she was in Bennie’s league, an equal in intelligence, which
is why he stayed in touch with her all those years. This letter proved that
assumption false.
Her spelling was juvenile, her punctuation was sporadic,
and her sentence structure was a hodgepodge of elementary levels. As near as I
could tell, she was sporting a low seventies IQ, and that was being generous.
And ‘rite back soon’? Really? I hadn’t planned on ‘riting’ back
ever. I dumped her response in the garbage with the junk mail and took myself
around the corner and down three blocks to Dave’s Bar and grill. Dave’s had the
best fish and chips in town, and their menus were written at a higher
grade-level than Annie’s letter.
But that wasn’t the end of it. Six weeks later she wrote me
again.
Received Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Dear Bud,
I haven’t herd from you yet because I guess you’v been busy
being sad and work and all. It’s okey. I know how hard it is to lose someone. I
saw a bald eagle today with white tail and head, he was beautiful. It filled me
with joy and also jealous because I wish I could fly so free. Kind a like
Bennie is now. Have you visited his grave? Is he barried there near by? Maybe
you could take pictures of it and send to me. Are you a hangar man like Bennie
was? Hangars are kind a boring but Bennie made them sound fun. Don’t you love
lilaks? There are blooming everywhere where I live here. Rite back when you
can.
Annie
Evidently, my non-response to her last letter was too delicate a hint. It was time to be more direct. Grabbing pen and paper, I jotted down the perfect brush-off.
Sent Tuesday, July 13, 2004
Annie,
I appreciate your interest in writing to me, but I have no desire
to replace Bennie in your life. I am neither looking for a pen pal now nor
hoping to find one in the future. Have a good life.
Lawrence Wallace
Feeling downright smug, I stuffed that letter into an envelope, slapped the stamp onto the corner, and marched straight out to the mailbox. I felt as though I’d just played a tennis match and took the final game with straight aces. I even swaggered a little as I walked away from the box. Telling her to ‘have a good life’ was going to shut her down solid. I should have written that on my first letter.
Three weeks passed after my masterful brushoff. Life was now
fully set into a new normal and the memory of Bennie no longer burned my soul.
I became melancholy on occasion, especially on beer and pizza nights, but my
relationship with Jolene was taking firm root, and she could put beer and pizza
away almost as well as Bennie.
Business was great as well. Though we experienced a slight dip in
orders after Bennie died, it bounced back quickly. Nobody could keep track of
numbers like he did, and our customers missed him, too. He wasn’t much for
in-person stuff, but he was great on the phone. Often, when I had struck out
with a potential customer, Bennie would give them a call and nice-guy them
right into a contract. Those customers stayed loyal to us after he passed,
submitting bigger orders than normal in tribute.
I came home from work a little early one Friday night so I could
shower, change clothes, and grab Jolene for a fancy dinner at one of the trendy
night clubs in downtown Spokane. On the way inside, I stopped for the mail, as
usual. On top of the pile was another letter from Annie.
