by Don P. Bick
Spencer. An audible gasp was heard from the crowd, and beside her Blaine’s mouth had dropped open in surprise.
Trisha looked at him with those loving eyes, the way she had always looked at him. And then she began to gently ease the old envelope open. Inside was a single piece of paper, again with the block handwriting of a 5th grader. Once she had the paper out she began to read the secret thoughts she had hidden away in the time capsule 50 years earlier.
April 21, 1962
Dear Blaine,
You don’t even know I exist. I am the girl that sat across from you in 3rd period English, the one with the braces and short brown hair. If you do remember me it is because of that time I knocked your books off of your desk when I walked past. My parents say I am very clumsy. I am writing this for a class project. You don’t have the same class so you will not know about this letter or get to read it for another fifty years!
I had a dream about you the other day. Some day I will tell you about it, but for now I will just write this letter and keep it a secret until we are old. If you knew I was doing this you would probably think I was crazy or that writing this letter is silly. You would definitely be asking one question. Why me? The answer is very simple, Blaine. I love you! I have loved you since the 2nd grade. I want to thank you for giving me the most wonderful life a woman could ever have had.
Trisha
XOXOXO
Trash Day
back to top
Hi, my name is Penny. I have been married for only four days. My husband had to go on a business trip the day after our wedding, he is due back tomorrow. So we put off our honeymoon for the time being, after all, work comes first. We are planning to take a week’s trip to Costa Rica in 10 days. I can hardly wait.
This morning I am beside myself. I have looked everywhere. All morning I traced my activities from last night and my steps from earlier today, everything I did before I realized they were missing. I tried to remember the smallest details of my routine. Apparently I am not remembering something because I haven’t found them yet. I know for a fact I had them yesterday morning. I distinctly recall putting them on my finger. I had taken them off briefly, which I always do when putting on lotion after my shower. My husband would kill me if he knew I had lost my $15,000 wedding ring set!
I’m frantic now! I have looked in the same places so many times I know everything that is in the house, in every nook and cranny. I even found a picture of my husband with an old girlfriend stashed away in one of the drawers. This was his house before we were married. I have found a lot of things but haven’t been able to find the rings, anywhere. I don’t know where else to look.
The loud truck outside drew my attention and it wasn’t a moment later I suspected what had happened - oh my god! Last night I had been down on my hands and knees scrubbing the tile on the kitchen floor. I had on some heavy rubber gloves to protect my hands from the strong cleaning solution I was using. I put the dirty gloves in the trash when I was finished and later took out the trash bag when it became full. After putting the bag in the trash bin I rolled the large plastic container out to the curb for this morning’s pickup. The can had been heavy and full because we forgot to put it out last week.
The trash! The rings were in the trash! And the trash truck was outside picking it up!
I ran as fast as I could to the front door, down the porch steps and across the driveway. It was too late! No, wait a minute, the truck was stopping at the next house and the man was rolling the neighbors can toward the truck, about to unload it. I started yelling, which startled the man since he was actually only a few feet away. I could see my trash bags sitting in the open area inside the back of the truck, they hadn’t been compacted yet to the inside of the vehicle. I started yelling all the more and when I reached the open bin I began to pull out trash bags and throw them in the street. There were three that were ours. They all looked alike so I didn’t know which one was the one I had thrown the gloves in last night. So I had to get all three of them before they were lost inside the truck with the rest of the compacted trash.
The trash man was shouting at me to stop…something about dangerous and dirty. I must have looked a sight: bright colored bathrobe with large fuzzy house slippers, no makeup and hair a mess. But I didn’t stop until I was sure I had all of our bags out of the truck. When they were out I looked down and noticed some dark brown stuff smeared all over the front of my fairly new bathrobe. There was also something smelly all over my stomach and chest. To top it off my bathrobe had come open, providing a nice view of my bra and panties to whoever was watching. Later, I figured most of the neighbors on the block were outside watching, having heard all the commotion and gone out to see what was happening. It was probably a scene worthy of some comedy movie now that I think about it.
After pulling the bathrobe tight around me and retying the belt, I told the man that these bags of mine aren’t going in the trash today. He began to chuckle and said “Okay lady, no problem.” I could see on his face he thought he was dealing with a crazy woman. Then he stood up on the step at the back of the truck and signaled the driver to go. While they were at the next house he kept looking back at me while unloading more trash. He seemed to be wondering what the crazy lady was going to do next. But I had calmed down a little by then.
The bags were heavy so I wheeled our trash can over to the spot where I had dropped the bags and loaded all three of them into the can. Then I wheeled the trash container back up to the garage door. I hurried around through the house and pushed the button for the garage door opener, pulled the trash can inside and closed the door. And then I cried a little, to tell you the truth. I was so relieved I had saved the trash bags that the stress and tension I had been under all morning seemed to melt away. Of course, it was still possible the rings weren’t in the trash at all. I was pleased to know that nothing had left the house and the rings had to be somewhere on the property, hopefully in the discarded glove I had thrown away. After the spectacle I had put on that morning trying to retrieve it, they had better be!
Quickly, I located the trash bag from the night before. It was easy finding the gloves, although they were covered with leftover stew we had had the weekend before. Along with cleaning the floor I had also cleaned out the fridge and emptied some old food into the trash bag.
I was already filthy so it didn’t faze me in the least to pick up the soiled glove and feel it to see if there was something inside. Sure enough, I felt the rings down inside the finger. I began to cry again, this time simply because I was relieved to have found them. I turned the glove inside out and dumped the rings into my palm. To my surprise the large diamond in the engagement ring was broken in half! There were two pieces of the stone in my palm!
After staring at the ruined gem for the longest time I went inside, took a shower and dressed. Then I hopped in the car and drove to the jewelry store at the mall. When I got there I asked the man if he could fix it. He looked at me dumbfounded and said “Lady, this isn’t a diamond. It is only glass, and cheap glass at that. That is why it broke in half.”
“But my husband said he paid $15,000 for the ring,” I told him.
“Not for this ring, he didn’t!” the jeweler replied.
What do I know about diamonds? How was I to know it wasn’t a real diamond, I thought through my tears as I returned to the car. In shock, I sat there for a few minutes trying to regain my composure. And then I was angry! I hit the steering wheel with my palms, started the car, put it in gear and began driving home, all the while thinking three words - lying cheap bastard!
Author’s note: Unfortunately, I don’t know what ever happened to Penny. After she returned home from the jewelers that day she packed up her things, left a note on the kitchen counter for her husband (the contents of which were never revealed) and drove away. Oh, she did make one stop at the bank before she left town. There she withdrew a very large sum of cash from their joint savings account, the vast majority belonging to her husband prior to their marriage. I don�
��t know where she ended up, but it has been rumored that each year on the anniversary of their marriage her husband would receive a post card from her. It would always be a picture of Penny in different locations. She would always be sitting on a tropical beach somewhere sipping a Pina Colada with the middle finger of her other hand raised in angry gesture. All the cards would say the same thing - “Thinking about you, you lying cheap bastard!” The sad thing is, I learned later, Penney’s husband actually did pay $15,000 for the ring. He had been cheated by the jeweler. What did he know about diamonds, anyway?
Loneliness
back to top
It was late fall. The sky was overcast and threatening rain. A stiff breeze blew from the north, its chill penetrating to the bone. I shivered as I walked uphill through the woods. The last of the clinging dead leaves detached from the trees that weren’t evergreens and flew around me. It wasn’t quite freezing or the tears streaming down my cheeks might have been frozen. Instead, they dropped unnoticed onto my heavy coat. It was 9:45 in the morning.
I continued up the winding path lost in memories of years gone by, lost within my thoughts of you and our time together. I know you are watching and
