The Deer, Amanda & other Short Stories, Page 2

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  Jessica

  Marilyn walked into the kitchen. She leaned her head against the doorframe and paused, staring at the table. There sat the letter. It was still on the table, leaning against the green translucent napkin holder. Marilyn listened for a moment, but the only sound she heard was the hum of the refrigerator. She looked at the plate of cold scrambled eggs that sat in front of the letter. The tortilla that had dropped from Jessica’s hand was next to the plate and was lying across the fork. A tear ran down her eye as she remembered Jessica’s face when she had laid the letter down in front of her yesterday. Before the tortilla had hit the table Jessica had run from the room covering her face with one hand and holding in her tears. Marilyn had watched her go and before she could say something, the door to the bedroom slammed shut.

  Marilyn walked to the kitchen sink and starting filling the metal coffee pot. The water rang out as it hit the bottom of the coffee pot and she filled it to the dent, which was the exact spot needed for a full brew. She put the pot on the stove and set it to low simmer. It would be a few moments before she could add the instant coffee, so she walked to the table. She read the letter again and stared at the return address. There on the bottom was the letters, U.S.A., in blue like the rest of the writing on the envelope. Steve had almost always used blue ink after Jessica had sent him a blue pen for the day of the kings a few years back. It was addressed to Jessica and it was all written in caps. The few letters that Jessica had shown to Marilyn when she needed help translating them were always in caps and though Marilyn found it unusual, Jessica thought it showed his character. One time, Jessica had told her that he always had to be clear, consistent and understood, so he never used cursive writing. Marilyn smiled at that comment as she read the bottom of the return address. Peru, also in caps, was written on a slant and Marilyn thought she could see a stain towards the bottom of the letter. It looked like water and for a moment she thought it might have been tear.

  The coffee pot screeched and released a belt of steam behind her. She turned and ran to the stove to turn the gas down. She set it to a low simmer and reached into the cupboard to pull down the coffee. The cupboard was bare except for two cans of powdered milk and a box of crackers. She had wanted to go shopping today, but the paychecks had been held up another week because the government still hadn’t recovered from the uprising. She needed to ask Jessica for some money, but it wasn’t the right time.

  She set to work on the coffee and wondered if this was really the final letter Jessica was going to see from Steve. The last few letters had been strained and Marilyn kept telling her to explain everything to him. Marilyn didn’t blame Steve for feeling the way he did and Jessica wouldn’t listen. She had told her that she couldn’t bring herself to explain the situation to him through a letter. “Why can’t he just come to Peru, so I can show him my life, my situation, my……well, me.” Jessica had told Marilyn over dinner when the last letter had arrived. “You can’t expect him to fly to a different country, a different language, a different everything, when he can sense that you are holding something back. If you can’t trust him enough to tell him, then you are going to lose him.” Marilyn had felt guilty about saying that, but she didn’t want to see Steve end the relationship because her friend was being stubborn. “You have nothing to be ashamed about. We’re not that poor and even though things are tough you have to be honest with him before, not after.” Jessica had nodded her reply and then continued eating. Marilyn had noticed the tears that night, but remained silent.

  She took a cup out of the sink and poured herself a cup. Putting her cup aside, she looked for Marilyn’s cup. It wasn’t in the sink, in the dish drainer or in the cupboards. She leaned her hips against the sink and gazed around the kitchen. Her eyes fell on the cup. There it sat on the table next to the letter. It was still full of coffee.