You Have Won

It’s been a month since the cell phone incident, and Oscar and Dolores have returned to their usual selves. That is to say, she nags him, and he ignores her.

Oscar is sitting in his favorite overstuffed easy chair when he sits straight up and looks toward the front window. He begins slipping on his slippers and gets out of the chair.

Dolores’s head snaps up. “Where are you going?”

“The mailman just came. I’m going out to get the mail.”

“Dressed like that!” “Slippers? You’re going out just wearing slippers!”

“Yeah, so?”

“Yeah, so it’s the middle of winter! It’s freezing outside!”

Oscar rolls his eyes. “So I should wait till spring when it’s warmer.”

“Nooo. I’m saying if you go out just wearing your slippers, you could slip and fall and end up breaking your hip or something. Oscar, your seventy-eight!”

“And you’re seventy-two. I should let you go instead?”

“Well, if I did, I’d wear something sensible on my feet and a coat and hat.”

“Just to go down the driveway?” Oscar shakes his head in disbelief.

Dolores clucks her tongue.  “If you’re going to get the mail, put on your rubber boots and winter coat.”

Oscar mutters as he gets dressed and heads for the front door.

“And zip up!” Deloris shouts.

Over his shoulder, Oscar yells, “Yeah, yeah.” He closes the door behind him. Standing on his porch, Oscar rubs his hands together.  “Brrr, damn it’s cold.” Oscar walks down the three porch steps, and when his foot hits the driveway, it slips out from under him. Luckily, Oscar grasps the handrailing to keep from falling. He glances at the front door. “Whew,” he thinks. “That would have cost me a million, “I told you so’s.” Cautiously, he shuffles down the driveway, looking like a penguin. As he pulls the mailbox open, a piece of mail falls out and lands address-side down in the wet slushy snow. “Aw, Hell!” exclaims Oscar as he bends, grunting and groaning to pick it up. Looking at the envelope, Oscar reads, “You Have Won!” across the top.  The rest of the address is wet and runny. Without thinking, he wipes the wet snow off and, in doing so, wipes away the name and address of whom this piece of mail is meant.  Growling, Oscar shoves it into his pocket and removes the remaining mail. 

It’s all just a bunch of ads. There is one for a walk-in tub, another for hearing aids, a folding cane, and a notice that his car warranty has expired.

Oscar safely navigates his way back to the house and goes inside. As he throws the mail onto the kitchen counter, he rumbles to Dolores, “I wish there were a way to keep spam mail out of the mailbox like there is for the computer!”

Dolores snaps, “That’s stupid! Just throw it away and take off your coat before you catch a cold.”

As he starts taking off his coat, Oscar remembers the letter. He pulls it out, shakes it a few times, and then places it on the counter with the rest of the mail.

Dolores puts down her knitting and asks Oscar, “What is that?”

“It’s just a letter that fell out of the mailbox when I opened the door. It fell into a slushy puddle of snow and got all wet.”

Dolores waits for more, but when none comes, she demands, “Well, who’s it for?”

Oscar fumbles with the envelope and mumbles, “I don’t know.” 

 Knitting her eyebrows together, Dolores folds her arms across her chest. “What do you mean you don’t know?  Isn’t it written on the front?” Her eyes widen as a light bulb goes off in her head. “Don’t tell me. Because the letter was wet, you wiped it off on your coat sleeve, right?”

“No! I did not wipe it off on my coat!” Oscar says emphatically. Glancing again at the letter, he speaks more subduedly, “I used my hand.”

 Dolores throws her hands out to her sides. “Oh, Oscar! Why didn’t you bring it to dry? Then you would’ve been able to read the address even if it were blurry. Now we can’t be sure if it is ours or not.”  

 Refolding her arms, she turns away. “I swear, Billy the mailman is getting too old for this job! This is the fifth time we’ve gotten someone else’s mail this month.”

“I’m not so sure it isn’t ours,” says Oscar. “Look, it says across the top, You Have Won.”

“Why do you think the notice is for us because it says “You Have Won?” Another idea strikes Dolores. You didn’t enter one of those computer contests again, did you? You remember what happened the last time!”

The last time, Oscar had gotten a notice in his email that he had won a five hundred dollar gift card to Amazon. All he had to do was to fill in his name and address. Oscar didn’t read the whole message and signed for a year’s worth of service at an over sixty dating site for forty dollars a month. Dolores notices this until three months later while going over the credit receipts.

“Oscar! How many times must I tell you to read the whole thing!” she shouted at him.

As Oscar stares at the floor, trying to think of some way to escape this past humiliation, his son Bill walks through the front door.

“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad. I thought I would swing by and salt the front walk and driveway for ya. It’s pretty slippery.”

With a little too much enthusiasm, Oscar pipes up. “That would be wonderful, Bill. Can’t have your mother slip and fall. She might break a hip!”

“Yes, that would be terrible, wouldn’t it, Oscar? Then you’d have to care for me twenty-four hours a day.” Dolores smiles an evil-looking smile. Oscar winces. 

Bill sighs, “Same old loving couple. So what are you two up to today?”

“Your father wants to open someone else’s mail.”

“No I don’t either. It was in my mailbox, and I am sure it’s ours.” Confused, Bill asks, “Well, who’s it addressed to?”

Bill’s mother answers, “That’s just it. Because it fell in a puddle, your father wiped it off on his coat.” 

Oscar interjects, “Hand.”

 “All right,” Dolores says, “Hand.” He also managed to wipe away the entire address. But because it says You Have Won on the top, your dad wants to open it. I think it’s junk, and he should throw it away.”

“Look, son, it might be nothing, or it might be that I won a car or something. I just got to open it to find out, that’s all!”

“You didn’t enter another computer contest, did you, Dad? “asks Bill

“Nooo!” retorts Oscar.

“Hmm. I think Mom is right on this one, and it’s just a lead-on to get you to buy something. But Mom, I don’t see any harm in letting Dad open it.”

Dolores rolls her eyes. “Go ahead, Oscar.  Open it up.”

Oscar snatches the letter off of the counter and rips it open. He begins to read it out loud. “That’s right, Oscar Best!  You’ve won the opportunity to purchase a brand new Ford at close-out prices at Smilin’ Jack’s Ford!”

Dolores feels her heart go out to Oscar as she watches the look of excitement slide off his face to be replaced by disappointment. She takes Oscar by the arm, saying, “I’m sorry, Dear.”

Ripping the letter up, Oscar throws it into the trash. “It’s okay. You were right, as usual.”

Dolores pushes the two men forward. “Why don’t you two boys sit at the kitchen table, and I’ll make you a nice cup of hot chocolate.”

Oscar’s face brightens with wonder. “You will?”

“Yes,” says Dolores. “But don’t expect it again.”