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Back THE MAILMAN Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. DEDICATION
  2. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55

He stared for a moment at the woman’s triangle of reddish pubic hair and the pink hard nipples of her breasts. He felt guilty for thinking such thoughts, and he quickly closed the magazine and put it on top of the pile. He tried thinking of Mr. Ronda again, of the things the mailman had done and would never do again, of the man he had been but was no more, but the moment had passed and, try as he might, he could not make himself cry.

3

They neither saw nor heard the new mailman come by the next morning, but when Tritia walked out to the mailbox around ten to drop off a letter, the mail had already arrived. “Damn,” she said. Now she’d either have to go down to the post office and mail the letter herself or put it in the box and let the mailman pick it up tomorrow. She reached into the metal receptacle and took out the mail, sorting through the envelopes. There were only four pieces of mail today: three for Doug, one for her. There were no bills, she noticed, and no junk mail.

She closed the mailbox door. Doug would be going into town sometime today for groceries. She’d let him drop the letter off at the post office.

She studied the envelope addressed to her as she walked back up the driveway. There was no return address and the postmark was from Los Angeles. She opened the envelope and unfolded the letter itself, glancing first at the signature. She stopped walking. No. It couldn’t be possible. Paula? She looked again at the signature. Paula. She ran quickly up the porch steps into the house. Doug was rummaging through the junk drawer in the kitchen, looking for something. “You’ll never believe it,” she said as she walked into the kitchen. “I just got a letter from Paula.”

“Paula?” He looked up. “Paula Wayne?”

She nodded, scanning the letter.

“I thought you didn’t know where she moved to.”

“I didn’t.” Tritia shook her head. “I wonder how she found me?”

“Your parents, probably.”

“But they’ve moved twice since the last time I saw her. And they have an unlisted number.” She grinned happily. “I can’t believe it. I don’t know how in the world she found me, but I’m glad she did.”

“Well, aren’t you going to read the letter?”

“I am,” she said, looking down at the paper, waving him away. “Wait.” She read quickly, her eyes moving easily through the neatly scripted, almost calligraphic letters. “She divorced Jim and moved to L.A. and now she works as a paralegal.”

“Divorced him?” Doug laughed. “I thought those two were a perfect match.”