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Back THE MAILMAN Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
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  10. 8
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  57. 55

“But I’m afraid for us. Our relationship. I mean, I get the feeling that you’re keeping things from me, that you’re afraid to talk to me. Or that you don’t want to talk to me.”

“That’s not true,” he protested.

“You know it is.”

They were silent for a moment. “You’re right,” Doug said. “We have been drifting apart. I don’t know why. I’d like to blame it all on the mailman, but I know that doesn’t account for everything. It’s my fault too.”

“It’s our fault,” Tritia said.

And they held each other, and they snuggled closer, and Doug had the feeling that they had averted the disaster toward which they’d been heading, that they had bucked the trend that had been developing between them, and that they had successfully screwed up the mailman’s plans.

29

Tritia awoke feeling jittery and out of sorts, the emotional residue of an unfortunately remembered nightmare that had, of course, been about mail. She’d been young, a child, but had been living here in this house, and she’d walked down the drive to the mailbox. It was a gorgeous day, the sky blue, the sun shining, and she was wearing her favorite pink dress with the little pinafores. She opened the mailbox and drew out a stack of brightly colored envelopes, the top one decorated with dancing teddy bears. Careful not to rip the beautiful paper, she pried open the sealed flap…

And a white hand shot out of the envelope and grabbed her neck.

She screamed, dropping the other envelopes, and they flopped open, hands shooting out from each of them. One hand shot immediately up her dress, grabbing her crotch. Two more stretched up to knead and fondle her fledgling breasts. Another shot up between the crack of her buttocks. Others grabbed her arms and legs. She screamed, but a final hand covered her mouth and she was pulled to the ground.

And then she woke up.

Not a good way to start the day.

It was her turn to fix breakfast, and she made bran muffins and squeezed the last of the oranges before going outside to check her garden. She felt tired and more than a little unpleasant, but she remembered her vow of yesterday, her promises to Doug, and she tried to push aside her negative feelings. She picked up the hose and turned on the faucet. Her plants had really gone to seed. She had continued to water them, but she had not weeded the garden for quite a while, had not taken the time to fight off bugs or prune leaves, and as a result, the vegetables this year were the worst she’d ever raised.