I smile as I mix the paint in my palette; who knew I would love this so much.
It’s taken me back to a time when I was happy and carefree . . . I also have to admit, Elliot’s letter yesterday has lifted my spirits.
He gets it.
He could have come here and talked me around and dragged me home . . . but he’s letting me work this out for myself.
I hear a car pull up and I go and look out of the window. It’s the van. I smile.
I open the door in a rush to see the delivery driver get out of his van with another red envelope.
“Pinkie?” he calls.
“That’s me.” I beam.
“Two letters in two days, someone’s getting spoilt. Sign here please.”
I sign with a smile on my face. “What was your name?” I ask.
“Richard.”
“Thanks, Richard.” I take my letter and breeze up my steps and, once inside, I tear it open. Just like the last letter, I tip the envelope up and the little bottle falls out.
I read the label and giggle.
Elliot Miles-Love Potion.
My dearest Pinkie,
In light of my inability to call you, and not wanting to stalk you, serial-killer style, I have decided to go old school and write you a letter.
To receive a total package experience, please spray this letter with the spray that is enclosed in the envelope.
In light of your various fetishes, I will oblige you.
Enclosed is a picture for your personal spank bank, use it willingly and often.
I frown. What?
I search in the envelope and, inside, there’s a photograph wrapped in white paper.
I tear it open and laugh. It’s a picture of Elliot’s bare feet, crossed at the ankles and resting up on an ottoman. He’s sitting on his deck with the lake and his beautiful Enchanted rolling green hills in the background.
There’s a glass of Scotch on the side table and he’s wearing grey sweatpants.
I frown as I stare at it. Maybe he’s onto something. This picture makes me want to be there. I keep reading.
I hope you are well, my days are long, my nights are longer.
You are missed, my love.
Forever yours,
Elliot.
xo
P. S. have you started knitting collars for your grandkids yet?
Apparently, twins are common. I’m not nervous at all.
I smile as my eyes linger on the letter; I pick up the little bottle and spray the paper.
I hold it to my nose and inhale deeply, and Elliot Miles in all his glory swims around me.
These quirky little letters that are so him, mean a lot.
I smile. It’s a good day.
ELLIOT
Christopher pops his head around the door. “You want to grab some lunch?”
I glance up. “Umm . . .” I do, but I don’t want him to see where I have to go on the way.
“I’m good, thanks anyway.”
“You have to eat.”
“I know that, I just . . .” I pause as I think of an excuse. “I have to go to the post office later, I’ll grab something on the way there.”
Christopher frowns as he walks in. “Why would you go to the post office?”
“To have an eight-course banquet, what do you think?” I mutter dryly as I turn back to my computer.
He sits on the edge of my desk. “Heard from Kate?”
“No.” I hit my keys. “What makes you say that?”
“You haven’t been out, you haven’t seen anyone else. You’ve barely left your property other than to come to work.”
“So?”
“She’s been gone nearly six weeks, Elliot.”
“And your point is?” I snap, exasperated.
“She’s not coming back, man.”
“Listen,” I bark. “Kate is my business, and what happens between us is none of yours. I fucked up, and come hell or high water, I’m going to fix it.”
“Then go to her and bring her home. You know where she is, what are you waiting for? This isn’t like you.”
“You don’t know her. She’s too stubborn and if I push her, I’ll lose her in the end anyway. I’m giving her the time she deserves.”
“Or the time to get over you.”
My eyes rise to meet his.
“Come on, lunch. We can go send your love letter on the way.”
I exhale heavily. “Fine.” I open the top drawer of my desk and pull out a red envelope. He snatches it off me and reads who it is addressed to and he frowns.
Miss Pinkie Leroo
98 Grosvenor Street
Mayweather, Oahu.
“Why the hell do you call her Pinkie Leroo?”
“Long story.”
He turns the letter over and reads who it’s from.
Edgar Moffatt
Garbologist Extraordinaire
Enchanted Kingdom
“Huh? Who the hell is Edgar Moffatt?”
I snatch the letter from him. “I’ll explain on the way.” I put the envelope safely inside my suit jacket pocket. “Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later I stand in line at the post office, Christopher next to me on his phone.
“Next,” the cashier calls, and she looks up. “Oh, hello Mr. Moffatt.”
I cringe. She knows me by name now. “Hello.” I slide my letter over the counter.
“Same as always? International tracked and signed to Oahu.”
“Thank you.” I take out my wallet.
“I hope these are love letters.” She smiles dreamily as she puts it through her computer.
Just ring it up, stupid.
“I mean, it’s so romantic, you sending a letter to Pinkie every day for a month.”
I glance back at Christopher and he gives a subtle shake of his head in disgust. “Loser,” he mouths.
I twist my lips in disapproval as I turn back to her. Why don’t you tell the whole post office, bitch?
“I wish I had an admirer as devoted as you.” She smiles.
Shut the fuck up.
That’s it, tomorrow I find a new post office.