Return to Sender

Emily,

I find myself thinking of you again after so many years.  I wonder what you’ve been up to, how things have gone since we parted.  I’m sorry it didn’t end so well… I’ve thought about that final day together, perfect in sun and water yet so utterly wrong.  I meant for it to be a chance to rediscover ourselves, but maybe we learned how wrong we were for each other at that time.  But even so, I wonder.  What if it was just a bad day?

Of course, I still love you.  I never stopped.  I’ve had other people in my life, but never really moved on.  Despite myself I compare and contrast, wondering how I’d react if you suddenly showed up on my doorstep.

No, that’s not true.  I know how I’d react.  And it scares me a bit.

Anyway, I’ll keep this short.  Just trying to make contact, and maybe if you can revise history a bit, see that last day as something other than a disaster, perhaps we can start anew.

I miss you,
Richard

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Dear Mr. Sorensen:

I am not Emily, nor do I know any forwarding address for her otherwise I’d send your lovely note onto her.  I wish I could help, really, but the kindest thing I could think of was to let you know your letter was received, but not by its intended recipient.  I apologize for opening the letter, that was probably wrong, but I’ve gotten so much mail for the girl I’ve gotten into the habit of opening it before throwing it away.  Does that make me a bad person?  At least I’m being honest with you.

Mr. Sorensen, please, I am curious.  I write novels (well, try to) and am terribly intrigued by the story implied in your letter.  Would you be willing to share some terribly personal details with a complete stranger?

Of course, I’ll understand if not.  Please disregard if it’s uncomfortable.  I’ll surely understand.

I hope you find Emily.

Kind regards,
Roberta

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Dear Roberta,

Please call me Richard.  Mr. Sorensen was my father, and I’m nothing like him.  It makes me feel old whenever I hear students call me “Mister Sorensen” like I’m some kind of authority figure, which I am I suppose, but have never worn that skin well.

I’m pleased to meet you, and thank you so much for your kindness in a personal response.  A simple return-to-sender from the post office would leave questions unanswered; now I know, at least, that she moved and left no forwarding address.  It doesn’t further my search for her at all, but at least I know your address is a dead end.  Thank you.

You are a writer!  How wonderful.  I teach English Lit at a local university, nothing prestigious.  I would dearly love to see a sample of your work if you’re willing to share.  I promise not to grade you.

That final day: oh, what a disaster!  I’d surprised Emily with a beach holiday, nothing extravagant, but something special and personal to us.  I’d hoped we could clear the air, but I was preoccupied with work and it triggered the same reflexive bickering, the same button-pushing, the same automatic responses.  It was like we were arguing via remote control, both of us too exhausted to give a shit.  And when the day was over, instead of returning to our hotel room together we ended up going our separate ways.

I imagine the hotel management puzzled a bit over our personal things left behind.  Or at least mine; perhaps she went back to get hers.  I never did.

So there you have it.  A mistake made years ago, never rectified, and now I fear it is too late.  A tragedy, no?  Because a day does not go by that I do not miss her.  She was a friend first, you know.  Everything else was a delightful bonus.

Anyway, I ramble.  Thank you again for taking the time to help a lost stranger.

Much appreciated,
Richard

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Richard,

Send me your email address and I’ll torture you with a few chapters from my historical opus, 600 pages and growing!  I don’t think I’ll ever finish.  Come to think of it, you’re probably the best person to give advice on such a thing.  Might I impose?

I understand lost opportunities, Richard.  From reading your account it’s clear you loved each other very much, and I am sorry you disconnected so badly.  That’s indeed tragic.  Had one of you been just a little more forgiving, I imagine I would not be writing you today!

However I’ve learned second-guessing oneself is a mistake.  You were the people you were, and wishing it were otherwise only drives you insane.  I hope you do find your girl, and reconcile, or at least catch up on friendship.

I note that your address is local.  Would it be too forward of me to invite you out for a cup of coffee sometime?  I can bring my manuscript, if you like.  That seems like a reasonable excuse, no?

Warm wishes,
Roberta

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Roberta,

Of course I would be delighted to read your book!  And help any way I can.  Coffee would be delightful.  Name the time and place and I shall join you.  As it happens there is a wonderful coffee place close to campus that is not Starbucks… would that suffice?

In other news, something you wrote in your last letter triggered a memory I’d lost, or probably suppressed until I retold the story.  I am following up on a lead, and may have something interesting to report soon.

Wish me luck,
Richard

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My Dear Richard,

Coffee it is!  How about 1:00 pm this Thursday?  And I think I know your place, it’s the one with the umbrellas, right?  And I’ll bring my book and you will regret it, but now you’re on the hook, mister, so no complaints from you!

You must also know I sneaked a peek at your university webpage.  My goodness, you’re handsome.  I thought you would appreciate hearing an honest opinion from a near stranger.

Please keep me updated on what your lead turns up.  I’m very interested.

Fond thoughts of you,
Roberta

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Roberta,

Just a quick note before I dash.  Exciting news!  On a whim I called the hotel where we spent our last day together and the management remembered us!  Even after all these years.

And she wrote me a note!  I have it here, and my god, how wrong I was.  She didn’t run away, she just wanted some time to think and left me her parents’ contact information in Paris with instructions to call when I was ready to talk.  She went there, that night, and now I too fly to Paris to see her.  She’s been there all this time, waiting for me.

Oh, Roberta!  What wonderful news.  I’ll be gone for a few weeks (at least) but we’ll have to do coffee when I return.  I promise to take lots of photographs.

Your friend,
Richard

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My Dear Richard,

How wonderful for you!  I admit to some disappointment but fully understand.  Get back to me when you can.

Love,
Roberta

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My Dear Richard,

I haven’t heard from you since February.  Hope you are well.  Please let me know how things went in Paris when you can.

Love,
Roberta

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My Dear Richard,

I know it’s been years.  But I cannot forget those few weeks of happiness I felt when reading your letters.  It’s stupid, I know, but I miss you terribly.  My life seems to have ground to a halt as I wait for… something, I’m not sure what.

It’s wrong for me to fall so madly in love with somebody so quickly, I know that.  And I can also imagine how awkward it is to hear such a thing.  How ridiculous.  You probably fend off students all the time, but this is different.  I felt an immediate connection, like it was meant to be.

Please know I would never make trouble for you and Emily, but also know that I love you.  Please write when you can.

Roberta

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Dear Ms. James,

I have recently assumed the lease for this house and as there is no forwarding address in place for Richard Sorensen’s mail, I am taking it upon myself to write you this brief note by way of explanation.

I am sorry your letter cannot be forwarded, but if I hear from Mr. Sorensen I will surely forward your contact information.

Regards,
Samuel K. Lighter

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Dear Mr. Lighter,

Thank you for your kindness…