Return to Sender - 5. Chapter 5 - Adam

CHAPTER 5 - Adam

A little over a week after I sent my last letter, Kai wrote back. I was just returning from a long walk with Arya when I saw the disappearing tail lights of the mailman’s van; a slight drizzle was just starting. It was Saturday.

I love rain. Everything smells fresh and clean. I smiled to myself when the thought appeared that I wanted to tell that to Kai. I had begun making a habit of writing things down that I might want to mention; the pad in the kitchen had three full pages already of tiny thoughts and musings, waiting to be transferred into another letter; I just had to wait for his response to my previous one, and incorporate it.

It was almost like constructing a new book; make an outline, write the main story and fill in the details, dotting the i’s, crossing the t’s. I saw an interview once with George R.R. Martin (1), explaining it better by saying there were two types of writers, architects and gardeners, where he considered himself more the gardener, planting a seed and just waiting what comes up and going from there. I’m in that vein of writers. I’m not an architect at all, knowing up front where to put the doors, hallways and rooms and not deviating. It’s more fluid with me, things change often. I think of something, write it down, expand on it and then find myself somewhere very different from where I began.

Spotting copperplate handwriting in the stack made me want to run back into the house but that wouldn’t do. No no. Waiting game.

Weighing the letter, there was a lot to read, it seemed like. It was heavy.

Torture, then. A whole day to wait before I was allowed to read it.

“Why don’t they deliver the mail in the evening?” I asked Arya, who was pawning at the door. “It would be so much better and I wouldn’t have to wait so long.”
I got a tiny howl back.
“I see. I shouldn’t have to wait, huh?”
A whine in agreement. Either that or telling me to hurry the hell up and open this door so she could get out of this drizzle.
“You know it needs to be right. I told you this.”
Howl and whine.
“What do you mean anal? I’m not anal. I just need things to be right.”
Whine.
“Ugh, you’re no use to me. Go on, inside.”

**********

The letter taunted me again. Read me, read me. Read me now. NOW I say, now!

Arya was loudly making a mess while eating. It was chicken day today; she was being picky, fishing the meat out from the kibble. Only with chicken did she do that, not so with beef or lamb or fish. She liked vegetables too and there was this one woman on the internet who constantly posted small videos of her husky. I got stuck in a YouTube loop for a day, watching those videos, that dog was so darn cute. I had subscribed to her channel; my one instance of giving in on social media, if YouTube can be described as such. She fed her dog waffles.

The next day, I owned a waffle iron, just for Arya and scouring the internet for waffle recipes.

I glanced at the letter again and inwardly groaned; come on…don’t do this to me. Sighing, I turned away from it, giving it my back and forcing myself to go to my study and work. I made it about halfway there; then I stalked right back to the kitchen and snatched Kai’s letter from the counter, bringing it with me.

He was beginning to become a bad influence. Perhaps I should tell my publisher to post a message on the website, telling my readers that it’d be at least another year, at this pace, before the next book came out.

**********

It turned out not to be so bad an afternoon of work. Once I was immersed, and put the letter away in a drawer, I got some decent material written down, going off on a tangent of research and ending up somewhere completely different. By the time I looked up, it was midafternoon.

Tempted to read the letter, I instead opted to go take Arya for another walk; the rain had let up and it was nice out, with a watery sun low on the treetops already. It’d be getting darker soon enough; then I could read. Proud of myself, we stayed out for about an hour; I met two other dog owners whom I’d seen and spoken to before; they were neighbors on both sides of me. They were nice, both women; not too nosy, kept their conversation light and generic. Yes, the weather was nice, yes, I had settled in nicely. Of course I would come by for a cup of tea soon (nuh-uh) and then we returned home, just as it was getting dark.

Leaving Arya in the utility room to at least get her paws dried up before she was allowed inside and take up residence on the loveseat in my study (she’d claimed it as her own about two days after coming to live with me), I made a light dinner and set the table, then ate with some nice chamber music in the background and trying to forget about the letter sitting in that drawer. It was a force of wills and I barely won, but I did win. I’d probably lose, the next time.

**********

The stage was set once again; curtains drawn, candlelight, glass of brandy, notepad, pen and my 18th century opener. And for the first time, correct smoke. I’d gotten those Arturo Fuente cigars and asked for instructions. There was a whole thing with cigars I’d never realized, such as using matches; never petrol lighters. Then you toast the foot, by holding it over the flame, and not let that touch the cigar. I might need more matches, the guy at the store had told me. Patience was needed. Ah, well…I have oodles of patience, so that was fine. And good to know; that meant Kai was a patient man. And I had a full box of matches. I’d also been told not to inhale cigar smoke, which I hadn’t planned on doing but ended up doing anyway by complete accident, resulting in a coughing fit that had Aria look at me accusingly; dumbass.

Oh gosh, the smell. It was wonderful! And the haze in the room? Authentic. Exactly right and even more so, when listening to that lovely sound while slicing open the envelope. What a wonderful experience…

Peeking inside the envelope, it felt like I’d won at life; six pages and another picture!

Oh, and this was an older picture. Commander Kai in combat fatigues with two other men, relaxing. I smiled at their wide grins to whomever had made the photo. Kai had a buzzcut in this one. He somehow looked…commander-y. Not an English word but the best one I could find to describe him. They all wore t-shirts in drab brown and no insignia showed but he somehow ‘looked’ in command, so to speak. He was older than the other two men. Boys, really.
Keeping the photo between my fingers, I began to read.

Hello Adam (and hi there, Arya!)

Thank you so much for those wonderful pictures you’ve sent; the one from the sunrise now has a permanent place of pride on my nightstand. If I just turn my head to the left, I can see it and it takes me right back to my younger days, when I made the hike myself; I practically lived in those woods, getting up early, packing a few sandwiches and something to drink, then setting off. It’s a beautiful hike, isn’t it?

It was, yes. I’d been back three times already, taking Arya with me. She seemed to like long walks like that, though I was afraid at first that it might be too far for her but she hadn’t shown any tiredness. And she could rest once we got there, sitting at the edge of the lake, eating. No, no sandwiches. Croissants, with lettuce, cheese and ham. And a small bottle of red wine.

I’d forgotten about the roof; you were right in replacing it. As I recall, there had been plans to do that some ten years ago, but my father never had gotten around to it. That means that the last time it was replaced was in the early 80’s. But can I make one request? Would you please not try to fix the jetty? Those boards, I don’t trust them. I planned on replacing all of them when I returned home.

Hmm, I hadn’t gone on the jetty again for that same reason; the boards had been kind of slippery and some creaked dangerously, as if they’d crack if I stepped on them again. I only had wanted to look at the half-sunken boat at the end, then noted the loose board and hadn’t gone further, returning to shore. Definitely not something to do in the rain. It was an easy promise to make, to not go do that. At least, not right away.

I liked that he thought of this place as still his home. I guess, in a sense, it would always feel that way to him. I made another note to tell him he could come fix it, with a winky face. Yes, I may not be on social media but I do know my icons.

He spoke some more about the improvements to the house and that he was glad someone had given it the love his father had been unable to give it, telling me the work done on the deck and porch looked great. He asked for more pictures, more up close, if I was willing to send those (of course; I’d include some from the interior as well) and then he asked:

I’m curious; what color are your eyes? I can’t decide. I think blue (they’re very light gray, some would say silver). You seem to be about my height, 6’1 (correct!) and as far as your description of yourself goes; never think that. You are -not- weak! From what I read, you are a wonderful man who is strong in areas where others are found sorely lacking. A man I’m getting to know better and better and whom, if he agrees, I would look forward to getting to know. Perhaps in person, one day. I’d like that. You warm my heart with your openness and what you call quirks; I would amend that to ‘endearing’. I definitely enjoy your letters, look forward to receiving the next one (including doodles, please). I find myself getting cranky when it doesn’t arrive when it should, haha. You have one week! I must have more Adam and Arya news.

I felt my eyes go moist. No one had ever said that to me. Gosh, that was…phew, this room suddenly felt somewhat small and warm. That was so nice to hear!

When others put you down, it’s probably because they feel envy. They’d like to probably be in your place, having nice things and amenities; organize dinners with friends. I note, by the way, that you didn’t mention any family. As you know, I have a brother, Kellan; he’s two years my senior and sister, Megan. She’s our Benjamin, ten years my junior. I've not seen them since I returned stateside. San Antonio is too far, just to visit and plane tickets too expensive. They send me frequent letters and call often. I’m happy with that, for now, but I can’t wait to return home. The days here tend to become dreary, with little else to do but read and watch TV. But I shouldn’t complain. I’m alive.

I was glad that he had a family; a niece and two nephews whom he had missed for so long, I remembered from his first letter.

But I could sense his loneliness and wished I could reach out and hug, to let him know he wasn’t alone. A few lines down, he spoke of wanting to do that same thing, for exactly the same reason.

“Oh…that’d be nice.”

**********

I began a response that same evening. I had all the materials now, having stocked up on it, and made some pictures indoors with my phone; one of the study, that used to be the old bedroom of his parents, one of the living room, the dining room and the kitchen. Then I went outside, letting Arya have the run of the property while I took some pictures of the house with the lights warmly shining out. Tomorrow, I’d make some more, then put them on a USB stick and go into town to get them developed. And hopefully, the cigars had arrived at the shop.

Going back inside, waiting in the door until Arya came running at my call, I then locked up and wrote. I wrote deep into the night.