You Win!!!

"YOU WIN!!!!!!!!!!" The first item from my mailbox screamed at me with a bold yellow and red glossy print at the top. The whole ad was pandemonium. There were things to scratch off and exclamation points all over the page. I tossed it directly into the trash. The next item had a "Notice" print, so I put that on the counter in the pile of important things to open later. That pile somehow only grows and never dwindles.

The next three items were all addressed to previous tenants, so I put those in the other pile on the counter for being returned to the sender whenever I managed to make it back to the post office. The two countertop piles often get mixed together before anything gets dealt with. The last item had no address. Nothing. Just a blank white envelope. It certainly had something inside. It was sealed with one little piece of tape over the tip of the back flap.

I sniffed it. I'm not sure why. It didn't give off any particular odor, nothing you wouldn't expect from shoving an envelope against your nose, anyway. Whatever was inside of it was bulky and somewhat stiff.

The single strand of tape mocked me. Memories of surgically unwrapping Christmas presents the first night they were presented under the tree rushed through my mind. That tape would be incredibly easy to remove. And it was in MY mailbox after all. Since there was no address, it wouldn't even be against the law to open it. 

I grabbed a butter knife from my utensil drawer and carefully used it to roll the tape backward without tearing any of the paper. I did this to both sides until the flap sprung up from the pressure of the contents inside. The contents? A letter addressed to Thomas Hatchford, several photographs with dates, and a small bundle of cash. The letter read as follows;

“Hello, Thomas,

I know this may be a surprise to you, and this is why I decided to deliver this rather than just show up at your doorstep. I know you may not want anything to do with me at all. I understand that. I have proof enclosed that I am your father. Some of your photos when you were a baby and some others of you and I when you were a young child. There is a lot you don’t know, that is in no way your fault. I really wish to speak with you in person. I know that I may never be able to repay my wrongs, but I want to show you that I will spend the rest of my days trying to. 

Enclosed is also some money. I’m not trying to be crass. It is not a bribe. It is money to come visit me should you decide to. I cross referenced all of the different methods of travel and this was the highest price point I could find for all standard fare. What you choose to do with this money is entirely up to you. I only hope that you could find it in yourself to give your old man a chance and meet up. Here is my phone number and address should you decide to visit, you don’t need to alert me of your intentions though, I am home outside of normal business hours and will always be ready to accept your company.

I love you, son. You have no idea how much.”

At the bottom of the letter was Mr. Hatchford’s phone number and address. I recognized the name Thomas Hatchford from my pile of previous tenant’s mail. I immediately rushed to the pile to look through it. 

The only other pieces of mail addressed to him were some credit card offers and an issue of National Geographic with an overwrap stating it was the end of the subscription.  I felt bad that I never bothered to send anything back or find his new address. Maybe he would have updated it then. 

After a very long internal debate, I decided that I would at least attempt to track down Thomas’ new address and give him the envelope that his father left. I wondered how long his father had waited around. Or, maybe he was too nervous to wait at all. I wondered how much I had missed him dropping it in my mailbox and sneaking away by. 

The next day, I called the leasing office, “Hello, I am calling from Lyon Law Firm and Associates, we were trying to reach Thomas Hatchford but needed to confirm his residency at your complex.”

“Hold on, sir. Let me check our records… No, sir we do not have anyone residing here under that name,” I was happy that I rarely visited the office and Stacy didn’t recognize my voice. An irrational fear I had before calling.

“Do you happen to have a forwarding address then perhaps?”

“Oh certainly, I’d be more than happy to provide that for you,” Stacy seemed all too eager to give me Thomas’ new address. That was almost too easy.  Thomas moved into a house a few miles away in the nicer part of town. I decided to drive over and hand deliver his father’s letter to him. 

The whole drive over I contemplated how to go about the delivery. I wondered if I should just leave it in his mailbox, just as his father had. But then I thought it was possible that he no longer lived at this new address either. I wanted to ensure that it got into Thomas’ hands. A small part of me also wanted to know the full story. What had happened between Thomas and his father?

I pulled up in front of the house that Thomas lived in. I grabbed the envelope and got out of my car as I heard shouting behind me.

“Hey! What are you doing,” a surly looking man with a bad combover and a worse suit screamed at me as he struggled to get out of his car parked directly behind mine.  I tried to ignore him as I walked up to the sidewalk. The man rushed over to me and kept screaming.

“I asked you what you are doing! What are you doing with that envelope?” 

“I really don't see how that is any of your business, sir. But I am delivering it to its rightful recipient.” 

“Are you aware that opening someone else’s mail is a federal offense?”

“The mail that was not addressed to anyone? Not delivered by the post office? No, I wasn’t aware that was included in that.  As I said, this is none of your business, unless you delivered it. In which case, bad job. He moved here. I am simply bringing it where it should have been. Who are you anyways? Are you Mr. Hatchford?” I asked the man as he stopped approaching me. I felt my grip on the envelope loosen a little bit. The front door of the house swung open and a man in his mid-20s stood in the doorway.

“Hello? Can I help you two,” the man asked cautiously from his doorstep?

“Listen, I was hired by the kid’s dad to find him and leave that envelope. I guess I got a bad source and got you instead. Just go along with me here and find a way to discreetly leave it in his mailbox and I’ll make it worth your while,” the private investigator whispered to me before replying jovially “My good sir! My associate and I were simply here to…”

“Cut the crap! Sorry, man. Is Thomas here?” I cut off the shady investigator and briskly walked past him to approach the front patio first. I presented the envelope as I walked. 

“You’re talking to him.” Thomas looked down from the doorway at me. He glanced at the envelope then back behind me at the investigator who was shaking his head in frustration as he walked back toward his car. 

“Well, see, that guy back there left this in my mailbox. I think it was supposed to be for you.” I reached forward to hand the envelope to Thomas without setting foot on his steps.

“Come on in,” he said, ignoring the envelope as he turned around to go back inside. He receded into the darkness. I shook off the disrespect of ignoring my outstretched hand holding the envelope I had now spent far too much energy on and stepped up into the threshold of the house.

Ending 1

“Excuse me, but I really just wanted to make sure you got this, it seemed important.” 

“Oh, I have an idea of what it is. Would you like anything to drink? Water?”

“Uh, no thank you though. Really could I just give this to you so that I can be on my way?” I hoped that I hadn’t come off as overzealous.

“You can leave it right there on the table if you like.” Thomas said as he went into the kitchen and began getting a glass of water. I turned around and headed back to my car, feeling a bit confused about everything that had just happened.

“Wait! Wait, hold on. Sorry!” Thomas ran after me holding the envelope in one hand and the letter in the other. He stopped me just as I was by his mailbox, oddly enough. “Take this,” he said as he took the wad of cash out of the envelope and handed it to me. He then proceeded to open his trash can lid and tore the letter into tiny pieces above it just before crumpling the envelope full of old photos and dropping them in and replacing the lid. He didn’t say another word as he walked back inside and shut the door. I could hear the deadbolt latch from the sidewalk. That was definitely the strangest way I have ever made $25.

Ending 2

FLASH! The whole house lit up like a pinball machine as people began rushing out of every shadow from inside of the house.

“Ladies and gentleman! What a man! Not only did he choose to deliver the envelope! He chose to deny the ruse and be honest with Thomas!” A man holding a microphone came into the foyer followed by a camera crew. He directed his attention toward me. “Our random contestant here was one of several hundred in town given a mysterious envelope! Each one had different mysteries to unfold and different ways to go about it. Some of them had temptations such as this wad of three thousand dollars! Our contestant today, sir, what is your name?” The microphone and cameras and lights and eyes of everyone in the house were all pointed directly at me.

“Uh, Chris…Christian,”

“Christian! Congratulations! For the premiere episode of Mail Mysteries, you win!”