sat down with a soda
and Mac's envelope.
From the second I
pulled the postcard out of the envelope, all I could do was stare at it. And it
wasn't because of his trademark elegant, spidery penmanship at the corner. He'd
inscribed only one word there: Us.
I leaned back and
stared at the picture. I couldn't be seeing what I was seeing, yet I was.
It was a photo of
me at my current age -- the picture could have been taken yesterday. That's how
up to date it was. I mean it was so current that I was wearing the jeans I'd
been wearing a few days ago.
When Mac called.
I frowned. Odd
coincidence. I quickly grabbed the envelope and looked at the postmark. It had
been mailed more than a week ago. From Conwy.
Next to me in the
photo postcard was Mac. As I gave it a closer look, it appeared as though the
photo had been taken years ago and the angle suggested that Mac took the
picture himself from an arm's length away.
Mac was younger
than he was now by at least a decade or two. I've never seen him in person, yet
I was certain it was Mac. I was also positive the female in the photo was me. Or
my Doppelganger.
It didn't seem like
something Mac would do, but maybe he'd had a trick photo created to get a
chuckle out of me. Still, wouldn't he have put us together at our current
ages?
About the only
thing I was sure of was the scenery behind the couple on the postcard. It looked
like the countryside near Conwy. I'd done enough research on the area after I
first talked to Mac, that I was reasonably sure it was the Conwy Suspension
Bridge in the distant background.
That in itself was
strange, as he'd already sent me postcards of all the great and unique bridges
in Wales, including the Conwy Suspension Bridge. There had to be something I
was missing. But what?
Unable to glean
anything else from the front of the photo, I turned it over. When I did, I was
confounded even further.
It read:
Remember.
love,
Mac
Mac was a wordsmith,
though he wasn't a man who used words for filler. He said what he needed to
say. No more, no less. Still, the abruptness of his message, front and back of
the card, was a bit alarming. Maybe Mac's son was getting to him, and he was
beginning to unravel from the stress.
I analyzed the
words. First off, I knew Mac wrote it because of the small letter in the word love .
He must have sensed my American reserve when we initially began corresponding.
He'd write love, Mac, in closing, but I wouldn't respond in kind because
it would have felt a bit like I was leading him on if I used the word love, too. So I had just signed off with Penny.
After a half dozen
missives, he assured me that using the word love with a small letter l was a general
way to say farewell. He assured me that he wasn't flirting with me, so I
started doing the same as we became better acquainted.
However, not long
after I began finishing my notes to him with love, Penny , I began to
feel like I should capitalize the l. The bond between us was much stronger than
boss and employee. Even stronger than lifelong friends.
But then I wondered
if I did use the word Love, would he rebuff me ? Maybe Mac's charming
words to me were just that -- charming words. If his feelings for me weren't
growing as mine were for him, I'd be devastated.
I didn't care about
losing work. I just didn't want to lose a friend I was beginning to feel more
than comfortable with, despite the thousands of miles that separated us.
Because the message
was so brief, I picked up the envelope to look for more clues, not that I
expected any. Then I found a light pencil inscription beneath the stamp that
said very succinctly:
Beneath
Stamp
The words
"Beneath Stamp" were written directly under the stamp he'd used to
post the letter/postcard to me. Was he trying to be clever?
I opened the
envelope and looked inside. Behind the stamp, I saw the faint stain of ink that
had bled through. It looked as though he had