Lester didn’t want to sound paranoid or anything, but the odds were at least two-to-one that Danny from across the street was snatching his mail. He was well aware of how paranoid-sounding “I don’t want to sound paranoid” actually sounded, which was very.
Leave it to Life, finding a way to screw him when the only thing people could really agree on these days was that there couldn’t possibly be a worse time than now, now, now to have vanishing mail. SimplySend™ finished their trial period for the PerfectGuess initiative a month back. Today was the day it was rolling out to the public at large, meaning there should be at least one package at the door, but what do you know…
So there’s Lester, standing on his partly darkened front step in the shade of a monstrously deep-rooted white oak, scowling at Danny’s made to order ranch, praying the foundation will pass the meanness of his glare along to the homeowner. He’s sporting clothes quietly a year and a half out of fashion, shaggy, inaccurate hair, and a smile made subtly sad by slanted, tawny teeth.
The real tragic thing about Danny and his newly embarked upon life of crime was that Lester really thought he had Cool Neighbor potential. That was back when Les moved in, oh, 2009? eight-ish years ago? But Danny went and got himself married, thoroughly domesticated. Like, maybe they could’ve traded off throwing legendary parties?
After the wedding incident, all Lester got from Danny was: Hey, Les, the reason you have so many woodpeckers going to town on your stucco is because you might have a tiny insect problem in that siding of yours and Want the number for my exterminator?
Not a chance, Danny.
He didn’t come around much anymore, though, not even to tell Lester he needed to get the concrete at the top of his driveway raised because it was a falling hazard, which, until recently, had been the guy’s pastime of choice. Did Danny not know that bachelors and their pads don’t worry for one second about concrete discrepancies or ornithological damage or building codes?
It had something to do with Danny’s wife getting sick. “We’ll do everything we can to make you as comfortable as possible” type sick, if Lester remembered right. And that was sad. It really was. There was something about Mary’s headaches being so cripplingly severe that even the tinciest pecking noise from across the street made her vomit in spasms? Or that she was very wobbly and unsure of foot from the steroids and the neuropathy and Danny was afraid she might fall and really hurt herself if she had to rush over to Lester’s for help with her PICC Line while Danny was stuck at work waiting to make the switch to part-time, which he couldn’t do straight away because of health benefits or coverage overlaps or something like that?
Lester felt he’d been nice enough to volunteer himself with a casual: If you need anything, and I mean anything. More than upstanding, compared to a lot of people, probably. But that was just a nicety you said. Danny was the one who took it seriously, the nut. How would Danny feel if he asked a stranger “How are you?” and they actually took it to mean what it meant and ended up spilling the contents of their sad little heartbroken guts? But Lester knew an offer like his couldn’t really be swallowed back, not once it was out there, unfortunately for him.
As an At Home Consultant, Lester was close to always at home, spending his time consulting various companies and small businesses that needed consultation. He helped Paw Prints Pet Boutique––official Trademark pending––change their slogan from Four Legs or Two, Here for You, to Four Legs or Two, We’re Here for You.It wasn’t world-saving labor, but it was good honest work that needed good honest doing, so why not do it good and honestly from the memorized comfort of home?
Mary never came by, and thank God for that, because Lester was overwhelmingly occupied following any and all rumors, updates, and wild blogger speculation about the PerfectGuess initiative he could electronically locate. SimplySend™ couldn’t mess up if they tried.
Their ConnectingHearts program from last year? Talk about wow. Lester still had every photo and testimonial they’d promotionally slipped into his orders. The only one he hadn’t gotten was Marquez from El Salvador, but that was basically the golden ticket, so he didn’t feel too bad.
All along the mantel in the sadly lit den were pictures and their accompanying blurbs about young Andes Mountain villagers or Southeast Asian floodplainers who were beyond grateful at the opportunity to scrape out a wage––and of a superbly ethical sort! The passages were so heartfelt, their sentiments so incomprehensibly tear-provoking, that Lester couldn’t bear to even think about hesitating when it came time to click COMPLETE ORDER. That’s what earned him the “Credit Card Ninja” achievement badge on his SimplySend™ profile. Those flawlessly elegant testimonial-writers needed help, and even if it wasn’t perfect help, well, nothing’s perfect, and some help is absolutely always better than none. That’s the SimplySend™ magic: save the whole world and still get whatever you want the second you want it.
So, yes, Lester was ticked to the extreme about not getting the chance to wet his toes on the day of PerfectGuess’ grand unveiling. If Danny thought having a sick wife meant he could hijack whatever mail he wanted then he’d really come to a sad point in his life, and what he needed more than anything was a big fat serving of pity rolled out on an immaculate stainless-steel cart by none other than maître d’ of sentiments Lester. He had all the sympathy in the world, all of it, but the planet can’t stop when your wife gets sick, Danny. Wish it could, wish that everyone could chip in to foot the probably heavily zeroed medical bills and so on, but, call me cruel if you want, that’s not the way the cloth is cut.
Because when Lester’s parents split up on his fifteenth birthday, and shortly after––as in two days––his dad ran off with a textbook floozy barmaid and his mom dropped it all and hitchhiked West and ended up joining a commune twenty miles east of Portland, who was there but Grandpa? And when Poppy got sick, probably way sicker than Mary, sure, people helped for a while, teachers and neighbors and that, but they didn’t keep with it. And who could blame them? Everyone’s helping-timer runs out sooner or later, so, let that be a lesson to you, Danny and Mary and anyone else who thinks a kind hand will stay outstretched forever.
The solution to the thievery, though, was simple enough: a mirror. The problem was Lester couldn’t well order one, obviously, so he actually had to go, in his car, outside, to a hardware store, where he figured they’d have one? And they did. And the employee wasn’t at all shocked or paralyzed to see an in-the-flesh customer. And Lester was damn near apoplectic at the fact that there wasn’t just one, but many real breathing humans also buying real, un-picture-attached things. And not a one realized they weren’t helping anybody.
Danny was in a rough patch. These were hard times. He’d be the first to admit it. Potholes were numerous and menacing on this current stretch of Life’s lonesome toll-road. And he really did feel bad about jacking Lester’s mail. But Mary just loved seeing those smiling pictures of the dirt-faced kids in each package, doing their God-only-knows best; he didn’t know why and yes frankly he didn’t care, but there wasn’t half an inch in the budget for orders of his own, not with the home health nurse who started coming around last week. Isn’t there a story about a guy stealing food to feed his family? Was he any different?
Lester didn’t deserve it; that’s why Danny had been waiting for him to take a trip or go on a date or for God’s sake leave the house for two minutes so he could return the orders minus photos. Lester had a big enough heart to offer a blank check of neighborliness. Sure, he’s a little too fake-driven; a little overexcited; a little too stuck-at-twenty-three; puts a little too much trust in that hairpiece––plus there’s that self-convinced smile.
But Lester would understand if Danny could just sit him down and give him the whole, unedited scoop on Mary and how much good it does her reading those blurbs and seeing those pictures. Lester would get it. Poor Mary. Danny didn’t have enough space to worry about Lester and Mary––so Mary it is.
He used to love Mary like the world was ending. Danny knew it was important to remember things like that on the days when love felt drained from the house, which was most days, lately. He used to hate going to concerts with her, back when she could, because Mary was the kind of pretty you didn’t want to bring to a show; there was always this chance that the long-haired front-man would ask her backstage after the second encore, and you’d be left standing in general admission, just hoping for the best.
How is it possible for somebody to get so sick? That’s the ten-trillion-dollar question Danny’s been waiting on an answer to. They’d had plans, so many of them. They still make them, plans, because the psychiatrist the doctors made them see when the diagnosis came up terminal said, “Keep planning. It’s good for both of you.” So they did. They made plans and plans and plans, each one without eye contact.
That’s what makes the mail thing so tiny, so incredibly miniscule that Danny would like to see Lester try to get peeved about it, that way he could show him his sick dying shell of a soulmate and say, Think you have problems now? Take a look at my problems. They’re the only problems in the world and you can choke on it you fat fucking fuck if you think I won’t gouge your fat fucking eyes out over a package.
Mirror = installed. Is Danny slick enough to outsmart his own reflection? Doubtful. It’s a standing mirror: set-up was easy as one, two, lean it straight up against the back wall of the hallway outside his home office and move the old end-table by the front door for a clear and unobstructed view. Lester didn’t have any plans at missing PerfectGuess, where SimplySend™ sends things you didn’t realized you needed until they arrived. It was about the sexiest idea Lester ever heard.
The plan to catch Danny in the act was second sexiest. On his way back from the hardware store, Lester parked a good three blocks away and came in stealthily through the back door to keep the house strategically vacant-looking. There were looks from sidewalk passersby, what with the mirror under his arm. People checked themselves out in it, right there on the street, as if they didn’t know the mirror was to catch a glimpse of others and not oneself. Geez.
Lester checked the AnticipatedDesires tab on his profile––a PerfectGuess package was due this afternoon. He beamed like a supercharged lighthouse.
He also couldn’t have hoped for a better view from the mirror. Through glass side-paneling bordering the front door, which Lester cleaned last night during the prep stage of the operation, there was total viewing-power. Danny didn’t stand a chance.
Okay, the glass was still a bit cloudy, but there’d be no mistaking a body coming up the walk, if indeed Danny came to the house that way and not all sleuth-like, which would present a major problem.
But holy oh good lord there was someone coming. Just like that, the mirror manning its post for barely five minutes. A figure, definitely absolutely a human one, carrying something tall out in front? Like a stack of something, maybe?
Lester licked his chops and said “Here we go” with reasonable euphoria as he made for the door, back to the mirror, not looking at it.
No chance Lester’s home. For the first time in a good two weeks, Danny watched his blindingly orange Jetta peel out of the driveway.
He waited thirty minutes, then another, then one more because Mary was having a slight episode. It’s been two days exactly since she smiled last. It’s been two days exactly since a package was on Lester’s doorstep. There still wasn’t any, so no moral quandaries this afternoon. Just set these dated boxes down at the door and the conscience goes clear.
Lester was bound to think of it as some processing error, some erroneous trip-up in the tracking code, or confirmation info, or hell even in the address. But voila, it finally got sorted out and there’s everything that’s owed, which admittedly is a lot, because Danny had them stacked in front of himself and looked like an off-duty UPS man going for some sort of record. He watched his feet to see where he was going.
One step up. Bend over. Set the packages down with a gentle…
Oh, Christ. Lester. There he was. Christ. Right there in the doorway with his flared-out temples and a crazy smile sharper than the sharpest thing he’d ever seen and set to ultra-overdrive. Oh, God.
“Whatcha got there, Danny?” Lester said.
Danny couldn’t speak. Mail is federal crime, that’s what he’d always heard. Was Lester going to call this in? No. Not a chance. Lester knew about Mary. Danny thought about reaching for a lie: Oh these all came today. All at once, can you believe that? Must’ve been some processing snafu, and to top it off they drop ‘em at the wrong house. I tell ya. No, Les, I think they actually came open?
But, “Lester, hang on,” was all Danny could siphon out.
“I could have you arrested. I should. My sister’s married to a great lawyer.”
“Lester, really, it’s an easy explanation.” Danny wasn’t doing too admirably in the fight against stammering. His heart was going like an artillery barrage. Oh, God, he was going to have to kill Lester. That’s right. Kill him right now. Kill him and hide his body in the basement so nobody’d know he was gone, at least for long enough to get his story straight. Maybe the orders would keep coming. He would kill Lester so Mary could smile. But he knew he couldn’t so fast it made him feel pathetic that he even thought himself capable. He wished he could, kill Lester, but no.
“It’s Mary, Lester. It’s Mary. She’s in it bad right now.”
“Oh, Mary’s the one stealing my mail? You animal. You sick individual. You steal my personal property, then blame it on your sick wife? This world, man, wow. This world isn’t what it used to be.”
“Lester, no. Jesus.”
But before Danny could plead his case, a noise started fizzing above them. A hollow buzzing, as if sped-up and sounding in a tight stone tunnel, but thick, drawn out and staticy and loud enough that the pair looked at the vaguely blue sky, scanning for landmarks of reality as if convinced they were both dreaming the disturbance in unison. Then, with a blurry cloud hung straight overhead, a rigid brown outline appeared, brown beyond comprehension, idyllic and perfect, descending beneath an imperceptible canopy that could be discerned only because the neat clean fat lettering stenciled on the unseen top and sides was made visible by the fineness of the translucent cloth subjected to the sweet warm daylight. Slowly they watched it slink down, like an angel but better or at least more exhilarating because it was in no rush to made landfall, in no hurry or desperate urgency to seek anybody’s repentance, just floating there in the aimless air like a child’s last words until it grew too large and overt to focus on and landed perfectly between them, truly perfectly because the tips of their confrontational toes would have brushed the serene packaging if they moved even half an inch forward; and the lacey white fabric, guider of the deliverance, collapsed and smothered a lucky swath of smooth green grass.
The PerfectGuess logo was clear, just beneath an OPEN IMMEDIATELY warning where the FRAGILE caution might have normally been seen. Lester squatted, and, taking his parcel in hand, began to peel back the transparent packing tape, ignoring Danny not like he didn’t exist but like he never existed in the first place. Inside was nothing but photos, photos and blurbs on top of one another like bricks in a tower for which there is no plan to stop construction. Light catapulted off the glossy pictures as if meant to evoke some ancient emotion on a skillfully set stage. At least a hundred. New ones too, brand new––Lester’s face was too electrified for them to be familiar. Danny hiked himself up on his toes and for the first time looked and saw what Lester saw, and his heart exploded like a bomb built to blow up the universe at the thought of all of Mary’s smiles. “Lester. Les,” Danny said. There were tears forming around the horizons of his eyes, but by the time he wiped them away, Lester was back inside, deadbolt latched. Danny rang the bell, then again, then screamed and screamed and screamed and rang it again and again but Lester didn’t seem like he’s coming to the door, just standing there, probably, in his own unobserved reflection.
John Darcy is an Army veteran, currently enrolled at Edgewood College, a small liberal arts school in Madison, WI.