Post Office

Post Office

“Where am I?” Frankie Lewis asked as he opened his eyes only to feel a wave of dizziness hit him like a hammer causing his stomach contents to lurch. He squeezed them shut again hoping everything would stay where it should be.

“Well, you're here Frankie.” A familiar man said that caused him to slowly open his eyes to see who it was.

“Gary, what the hell is happening?”  He said as he looked up at the other man, a thick bearded white haired fella that he knew from the Post Office that dressed up as Santa Clause every year.

“Let’s get you up first then we can talk.” Gary reached out his hand to help a still very confused Frankie to his feet.

“But I was in the car and now I’m,” Frankie said looking around. “In the Post Office, but how?”

“Well to you it's a Post Office but to someone else it could be a bus station, old house, garden whatever makes them feel most at ease.” Gary said as he rolled the very chair over that Frankie sat in almost daily as he, Gary, Vivian and Ben would enjoy coffee along with conversation at the local Post Office. “Have a seat before you fall down.”

Frankie absently sat as he continued to look around, feeling the familiarity but also the not familiar at the same time. Confusion was mixed with a major headache and for some reason sadness. He just couldn’t figure things out, but that had been the story about most things in his life. At least when he would come to the Post Office he felt comfortable to just be himself. 

“I really don’t understand Gary.” He said as he ran one hand threw his hair which was a habit of his when he was confused.

“Let’s just say this place is like a waystation of sorts in your journey of life. For you I look like Gary.” The man said with a smile before suddenly changing to a dog, then a woman and even a bird before back to Gary with seconds in between. “But to others I’m whatever or whoever they need me to be.”

“Woo, am I dead!” Frankie said, jumping up as now panic slammed into his head pushing his other feelings aside. 

“Not of sorts, sit back down and we will talk some more.” Gary urged as he pulled up the same brown worn leather chair that he always sat in.

“But you're wearing your Post Master uniform and everything and it even smells like coffee, and Viv’s perfume.” Frankie said as he stood behind the chair gripping the headrest either for comfort or just to see if it was real. “Am I dreaming all this then?”

“You see, I have a  gift for making people comfortable. Sort of a job requirement in my line of work. That’s why you can smell and see things the way you normally experience them. You can even hear them, just listen.” Gary said with a smile.

Frankie did just that. “Is that Daniel outside playing his guitar?”

“Well it's him but here there is no outside. But again it's because you hear him out front whenever you come here, playing his guitar with his case open looking for change. So right here and now you hear him just the same way.” Gary waved his hand towards the counter where a pot of coffee sat adding the scent of its brewed goodness to the air.

“No shit.” Frankie said, dropping into the chair feeling confused yet a little calmer. “But why?”

“Now you're getting to the meat of things my friend. Look around at the post boxes and tell me what you see.” Gary waved his hand towards the wall of the little metal doors.

Frankie stood up and walked over. “Well they look like post boxes, is this a trick question?”

“Look closer.” Gary answered suddenly standing beside him though Frankie never even heard him move.

Frankie jumped back startled by the sudden closeness. “You were just over there.”

“Don’t dwell on that my boy, look closer.” Gary urged again.

Frankie looked closer to the boxes and noticed the numbers had changed from simple numbers to dates.

“Each box has a year on it.” He said looking back at Gary.

“That’s right and behind each door, we'll open one and see.” Gary smiled.

“Well, ok but I still don’t understand.” Frankie scanned the dates before settling on a memory that made him happy. 

He reached out feeling sweat in the palm of his hands while grabbing the little latch and pulling the door open. 

“What the heck is happening?” Frankie said as the post office became the front yard of his childhood home. He saw a little boy playing in the front yard , not a care in the world. “This can’t be.”

“It is, but wait it gets better.” Gary said as he nodded towards the beat up old truck that was coming down the long dirt driveway.

“No, it can’t be.” Frankie said as he found himself watching his long since dead dad pulling up to his house. “But he’s gone.”

“This is something that already happened to you so it's a memory.” Gary answered.

“I remember this day, it was the day…” His words drifted off as his dad stopped a few feet from him. He felt sad yet happy at getting the chance to see his dad again so was this supposed to be a good memory or a bad one.

That's when his dad knelt down and set something on the ground he had been hiding behind his back.

“No way, this is the day I got Bandit.” Frankie said as a wave of long forgotten warmth of the returning memory washed through him.

He watched as the little black dog stumbled on puppy legs staggered to his childhood self. Tears ran down his face but he couldn't take his eyes off the scene as the boy and dog met for the first time. It was a memory that had gotten so buried with all of life's heaviness that he had forgotten all about his first puppy and his first real friend.

“Can they see me?” He asked Gary as tears ran down his face.

“Unfortunately no, as this has already happened, consider this a sort of home movie.” Gary answered. “But we need to get back to our conversation and your choice.”

“Ok, just a second longer.” Frankie said half hearing Gary as he watched the boy and dog roll around on the grass together.

“Time to go.” Gary finally said as with a wave of his arm the house and boy vanished only to be replaced once again with the familiar setting of the Post Office.

“So, am I dead, is that what all this means?” Frankie asked as he dropped back into the chair, tears running down his cheeks.

“That’s just it Frankie. You're taught to believe when you're born your life is like an hourglass, more or less. From birth the sand starts to trickle. I can tell you for some people it trickles faster while the lucky few it trickles very very slowly. Then people like you come into play which is the difference.” Gary said as he sat back down across from Frankie.

“What do you mean people like me?” Frankie asked once again, running his hand through his hair.

“Well what I mean is there are people like you that have a chance to, let's say, flip the hour glass. They have two fates for a path where most have one.” Gary said as his words grew more serious. “But with the choices comes some sacrifice but also some rewards.”

“Like what, do you mean I am still alive?” Frankie asked, growing excited with the hope of this whole confusing mess having a good ending.

That's when Gary stood up and walked toward two doors that Frankie swore weren’t there when he first awoke.

“You see, your fate lines are blurred so that means you have a chance to choose your path.” Gary said as Frankie approached him.

“What do you mean, heaven or hell? If that's the case, not much of a choice.” Frankie said as he stopped and glanced from one door to the other.

“Nothing like that my boy, let’s say it's sort of like choosing a direction for fate to take you. The door on my left, your right that's labeled, "Express,” gives you answers on one side and the door on my right labeled "Returns,” is another path.” Gary said.

“What about here, can’t I just stay here in the Post Office with you. It always felt so calming and peaceful to me.” Frankie asked as the confusion once again creeped into his mind again along with the calming familiar sounds and smells of what he came to realize as his safe place. After all, Frankie was never a social person, so much so that ever since his accident years ago he had  worked from home and even going so far as to get his groceries delivered. In short he wasn’t a people person, that is until he met Gary and the others at the Post Office below his apartment. It was the only place he ever went.

“Though I am enjoying our chat I am afraid a great many people have fates of their own that deserve guidance. But both choices aren’t too bad of a deal.” Gary said as he stepped towards Frankie, putting his arm around his shoulder like he had done the very first time Frankie had walked into the Post Office and started having a panic attack. “Your life has been one of struggle and sadness for you despite your great effort. Consider these choices a chance to finally be at rest but this is all I can say. This choice is for you and you alone to do, my friend.”

“But I don’t know what to do.” Frankie said as he ran his hand through his hair while looking from one door to the other. 

“Take a chance.” Gary urged.

Frankie took a deep breath and pushed open a door, a bright light flashed out of the door engulfing him, pulling him inside.

“Good choice my boy.” Gary said, still standing in the Post Office only he was no longer Gary, he was Frankie’s dad and he was smiling the same big smile he had had the day he brought his boy the stray dog he had found on the road. “You’ll get a good life this time.”

With that the Post Office and everything in it faded away to help someone else on their journey through life.