A Crumpled-Up Piece of Paper Leads the Way

My husband and I love mysteries and enjoy spending time together doing whatever comes our way. Most of the time, stuff just falls into our lap. But on the day we left for vacation, we didn’t think any mystery would come our way. On the way there, we ordered a meal. We also had a few drinks on the plane. 

We found our shuttle. in no time and had another drink on the shuttle. It was a great ride, bumpy, but we felt no pain as I used my Spanish to converse with our driver, Hector. After a while, two hours worth, we arrived at our destination. Of course, we had another beer before we got there. It was the logical thing to do.  

We step off the courtesy shuttle and immediately feel relief. The air, the sand, and the sound of the ocean’s waves crashing into the shoreline set the mood for the next 12 days. We took the chairs and moved them into a shaded area, and then we started drinking beer. 

After three hours and empty beer bottles everywhere, we realize we’ve sat all day watching the waves and talking, and neither of us is upset about anything. Since our kids reached their teenage years, our life's mission has been to enjoy the places we find fascinating or love. 

We left our room the following day, and I found a piece of crumpled-up paper with a message that blew into me: Special delivery courtesy of the wind. We both laugh, and then I stumble over the words in the message. I laugh some more. 

“What is it?” My partner asks.

“Guess,” I say.

“Impossible.”

“Try it!”

“Okay, let’s see. Harina, lechuga y mantequilla—am I close?” He says.

“Cute, but I mean it. Be serious and guess.” 

“Fine. Is it a statement, question, or list?”

“None of the above,” I respond with a glint of encouragement.

“See, I tell you this is impossible,” he protests again.

“It’s not. Think about who writes notes on crumpled-up pieces of paper.” 

“I don’t know: lovers, kids, mothers to their kids.”

“You’re getting warmer.” 

“Did I mention this is impossible?” He asks.

“Be serious.” 

“Do you want to sit by me today at lunch?” 

“What?”

“The message. From a kid. Is that what it says?” 

“What message from a kid?” 

“Oh, come on. Really?”

“Is it a lover’s note?” 

“It’s a note. You got that part correct,” I encourage.

“Well, I think that’s it for my message guessing,” he said.

“It’s to do with relationships.” 

“Romanitic or platonic?” He said. 

“Figure it out. You’re doing well so far.” 

"Somehow, I don’t see it that way.” 

“Why would someone let it fly in the wind?” 

“Maybe because they didn’t want their person to see it.” 

“Okay, but why?”

“Adulterer? Butcher? Priest? Lawyer? Taxman?” 

“Getting warmer.” 

“Oh, I am done with this crumpled paper stuff.”

I get up and put it down on the table under the pavilion. I am not happy that the game ended the way it did. I forgot about the paper. 

“Jose, come today?” 

“Yes, he left us dinner. Remember?” 

“The note must’ve been his. It’s gone now.” 

“I didn’t see him take it, but that doesn’t mean he didn't.” 

We went to bed, and my partner didn’t ask me what the message on the paper said. I don’t bother telling him. I think Jose is the one who lost the message.

The following morning, we walked the beach, and this time, we saw the crumpled-up piece of paper stuck in the trees on the cliffside. My partner goes and grabs the paper. The jig is up. Now he knows what the message says. 

I cover my mouth with my hand and laugh. He laughs, too. 

The message on the paper read, Just for two—have fun with that! We did.

After that, we crumpled up the paper and tried to let the wind take it, and no matter what we did, the wind wouldn’t take the paper. We threw the crumpled paper into the wind, turning about in the air and then dropping like a stone. 

No matter what we try, the paper sticks with us throughout our time in our tropical paradise home. It becomes a long-running joke—wherever we go, there it is. By our trip's end, we will leave the crumpled-up piece of paper behind. 

We head outdoors to board the plane—two hours away, up and down and over a mountain—when we see a crumpled-up piece of paper blowing across the field where we board the plane. It hit me in the face. 

We both laugh, and I shove the note into my pocket—a souvenir of our trip to Costa Rica. 

When we arrive home, we write notes and leave crumpled-up pieces of paper around for one another throughout the house, which is a major turn-on for both of us. 

After we begin, we can't stop, and the notes continue at random intervals but with a steady routine. Enough so that we look for crumpled-up pieces of paper wherever we go now as a sign of communicating without talking that others don’t seem to recognize or make too much fuss about when they do catch us in the act. 

I suggested it to my daughter, who tried it with her partner, Christopher. He enjoys and embraces it so much, they place crumpled-up pieces of paper—with notes they have written to one another—on the tables at their wedding as centrepieces. 

The head table had so many guests who knew what they were about and came up to peruse them during the evening. But the absolute best part were the messages in the cake, also on crumpled-up pieces of paper. 

At the end of the night, before the bride and groom left, they had a large piece of crumpled-up paper brought out to the front of the hall. They called my husband and I up to the front of the room. 

They gave us the crumpled-up piece of paper; on the inside, it held every crumpled-up piece of paper we ever wrote to one another. But in the centre, we noticed the first piece of crumpled-up paper from Costa Rica, and we both started laughing with tears of joy. 

The guests were blown away and thought it was definitely something they would like to try in their relationship. We smiled and said, “Just for two—have fun with that! We did.”