by Tina Martin
I walk into the office I share with one other mail clerk – Karsheeda. She’s one of those loud-mouthed people – means no harm – she’s just loud by nature. She’s a big girl with a larger than life personality who wears a burgundy and black, mushroomed-shaped wig and fake eyelashes that always look like they’re about to fall off. She made her own nicknames for all the mailroom clerks. I’m Young Izzle – sounds like the name of a wack rapper who didn’t make it (although some of her bubble-gum rapping counterparts probably did). If you ever want to know anything that’s going on in Uptown Place Business Pavilion, Karsheeda AKA ‘Sheeda Baby’ is your girl.
She’s on the phone when I sit at my desk, but she hangs it up and grumbles, “Ya darn fool. You got me messed up if you think I’m gon’ go through all those mail slots looking for one raggedy envelope. The nerve of some folk…”
I chuckle. She’s always getting into it with somebody.
“What up, Izzle?” she asks all loud and boisterous. “I tried to call you, then I realized you left your phone on your desk.”
“Oh, is something wrong?”
“No. I was just going to tell you to pick up your package. First floor reception called and said they have a package for you.”
“A package for me?”
“Yeah. Ain’t that a coinky-dink? Get it? You’re a mail handler and you got a package...”
I laugh absently and immediately get up from my desk to head downstairs. When I’m there, the receptionist asks to see my ID badge then she hands me a box about the size of wine bottle, only square. There is no return address on it – only my first and last name and job title.
“There was no note with it?” I ask the receptionist.
“No. The sender may have put a note on the inside, but I’m not certain.”
“Did you by any chance see who dropped this off?”
“No. My coworker signed for it and he’s out to lunch right now.”
“Okay,” I say holding the box like it’s a bomb. I don’t know if I should take the thing outside or upstairs to detonate – I mean – open it. Being that I have no enemies, and I never get mail, I decide to take it to my office. Karsheeda is already looking, trying to figure out what it is like she has the ability to see through the box.
“What’s that you got, Izzle?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, open it, girl.”
Here goes nothing...
I begin opening the box, anticipation building with each piece of tape I rip from it. When I pull off the last piece, I remove its contents: a bottle of A-1 sauce with a red ribbon tied around it. There’s a note that says, call me, followed by a number.
A smile comes to my face because even though the sender didn’t leave a name, I know this is from Trevor. This is from Trevor!
So, that’s why you were at my building...
“What in the world?” Karsheeda says. “Who done sent you some A-1 sauce, girl?”
“It’s nothing,” I tell her. “Just a joke.”
“A joke with a pretty red bow tied around it? You done pulled yourself a man, ain’t you, Izzle? A freaky deaky man.”
“No, Sheeda,” I say giggling. “It’s nothing like that.” My heart is beating fast again. Do I call him? I don’t know what to do. And this note card smells like his cologne. Just a whiff of it has me warm all over.
Call or text?
Call or text?
What’s an introvert to do?
I know – ignore the steak sauce and pretend I never got it. Or, I could stop being such a punk and call the man. A lil’ while ago, I was just telling Priscilla how I’d never have another chance with Trevor. Now, he sends me sauce and I’m back in the game. Well, maybe...
Call or text?
I go for the less nerve-racking option. Text.
My hands are shaking, palms sweaty as I punch in his number followed by a message:
Elsie: Hi, Trevor. I got your package. *erase*
I backspace to clear the message because I can’t tell the man I got his package. I have to be more careful with how I word my response. Um…okay, got it.
Elsie: Hi, Trevor, thanks for the sauce *erase*
I’m backspacing again. That sounds too corny. Maybe I should just call him. No, I should text. I try again.
Elsie: Hi, Trevor. I got the A-1. Thanks. *send*
I instantly feel like I said the wrong thing, but I can’t backspace this time since the message has already been sent.
Trevor: Didn’t my note say to call me? I could’ve sworn it said call me.
Elsie: It did, but I didn’t know what to say, so I sent a text.
I bite down on my lip, waiting to read his reply.
One minute passes.
Then two.
Then five…
When ten minutes go by, I’m certain he’s not going to respond. So, what do I do? Text him back? My goodness. I really need a guidebook – The Introvert’s Guide to Alpha Males or something similar to it. It would really come in handy right about now.
My phone vibrates. It’s him. Has to be. I pick it up quickly to read his message:
Trevor: Call me.
That’s all it says. Call me. I take a breath. I have to do it. I have to, so I bite the bullet and dial his number. He answers after a half ring.
“There. That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” he asks.
“I guess not.”
“How’s your day so far?”
“It’s…um…it’s—”
“Elsie?”
“Yes?”
“There’s no need to be nervous on the phone with me. Okay?”
“I’ll try not to be,” I say, glancing over at Karsheeda who’s waggling her penciled-in brows at me.
“Let me ask again. How has your day been so far?”
“It was sucky all the way up until I got your bottle of A-1 sauce. I actually smiled.”
“Good. I’m glad I could brighten your day.”
I smile awkwardly, even over the phone. And since he’s quiet now, it must be my turn to say something. Hmm….what can I—oh, I got it. “How has your day been so far, Trevor?”
“My day was pretty laid back. I’m at the condo packing right now. It’s true what they say—you never know how much junk you have until you get ready to move.”
“I know. That’s why I haven’t moved since I’ve been here.”
“Is that right?”
“Yes…same one-bedroom apartment.”
“Well, if it works, why move?”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Silence passes between us and I’m trying hard to think of something to say now that it seems like the conversation has come to a dead end.
“Um, well, I have to get back to work,” I say before I even realize it. I didn’t mean to be so blunt about it. It just came out.
“Oh. Right,” he says.
“And I really do appreciate the sauce.”
He chuckles. “You’re welcome, Elsie.” There’s a pause then he asks, “Hey, what are you doing Friday night?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“I would like to take you out to dinner.”
“You would?”
“Yes. I’ll pick you up around 6:30. Is that okay?”
“Um...” I hum, overthinking again.
“Say yes, Elsie,” he says.
I smile again. “Are we going as friends?”
“If that’s what’ll get you through it. Yes, we can go as friends. Text me your address when we hang up.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll see you Friday.”
“See you Friday,” I repeat. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
“I will. Bye, Elsie.”
“Bye, Trevor.”
I hang up and immediately begin screaming with happiness while texting my address to Trevor before I lose the nerve, or consciousness which is a very real possibility. I can’t believe this is happening. Did the universe hear my silent cries for help?
“Don’t tell me
you got yourself a manz, Izzle.”
I’m on a natural high, so I look at Karsheeda with blushed cheeks and the biggest grin on my face when I ask, “What’s a manz?”
“You know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. When am I going to meet him?”
“Okay, slow down…I don’t have a man. He’s just a guy I met and we’re going on a date as friends. Friends, Karsheeda.”
She quirks up her big, glossy lips. “You let him run that game on you? They all holla friends in the beginning. Next thing you know, you pregnant and he’s ghost.”
I shake my head. I’ve heard the story so many times I know she’s referring to her baby’s father, who she met in a club by the way. They had a quick, three-month relationship – no, situation, she likes to call it – in which time she got pregnant and he left soon after hollering that the baby wasn’t his. Later, when he found out the baby was his, he tried to sweet talk her into not taking him to court for child support but in the words of Karsheeda, she took that dummy for everything she could get, which won’t much.
Should I take the advice of a scorned woman? Probably not. So, I don’t. I load up my mail cart and deliver the rest of my packages with a great-big smile on my face. I get to see Trevor on Friday and the prospect of having something to look forward to has me on top of the world.
Chapter 10
Trevor
Trevor stood at apartment ‘C’, hoping he had the correct building. He rang the bell and hid his ungloved hands in his pockets, waiting for Elsie to answer the door.
And he waited...
He pushed the bell again. The thought had crossed his mind that she would probably stand him up, but she did text him her address. Still she was nervous, he knew, and her flaking out at the last minute was a real possibility.
“Come on, Elsie. You can do it,” he said evenly to himself, pressing the bell again. This time, he could hear her behind the door, opening it.
Finally.
When she opened the door all the way, he said, “Hello, Elsie.”
“Hi, Trevor.”
His lips curved into a curious smile as he waited for her to make the next move or suggestion. While he waited, he admired her from head to heel. She had her hair in a ponytail again, no makeup from what he could tell and her outfit was as plain as she was – a solid purple sweater with black trousers. On her feet were black flats. He wondered if the outfit was what she’d worn to work. Whatever the case, it looked nice on her.
“Are you ready?” she asked him.
“Yes, I’m ready. You look nice, by the way.”
“Thanks.” She stood there a moment longer as if in a daze then said, “Oh, let me get my jacket and purse.”
He waited at the door until she returned, then after she locked up, they headed down the stairs together. She grinned when she saw his Range Rover.
“He opened the door so she could get inside while asking, “What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing.”
He closed the door then quickly got in and started the car. “Nothing has you tickled, huh?”
“I was just thinking about the other day. Wednesday, actually, when I got that sauce.”
Trevor glanced over at her, noticing the gold stud earrings in her ear. His eyes traced the shape of her ear on down to her soft jawline. He quickly turned his attention back to the road. “Oh yeah? What about it?” he asked.
“I was laughing because I actually saw you. I was across the street having lunch with Priscilla when I saw you walk out of my building.”
“Oh. Uptown Place Business Pavilion is your building,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. “I’ll remember that next time.”
She laughed and he glanced over at her to watch her do so. She had a pretty smile, a nice side profile and for some reason, she seemed a tad more relaxed today. He liked the relaxed version of her so much better than the skittish one. He hoped she’d keep it up in the restaurant so they didn’t have a repeat of the steakhouse debacle.
When they arrived at Landmark Diner, he pulled out her chair allowing her to sit, then he sat down and smiled.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good, then you can take off your coat this time.”
“Oh. Right,” she said, unzipping her jacket.
While he was still standing there, he helped her with it, then draped it on the back of her chair.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said as he stepped around the table to take a seat.
Elsie was studying the menu but she could feel Trevor’s eyes on her. She glanced up. He smiled. She shied away from him. Gosh his smile was out of this world amazing. Maybe he knew that and that’s why he kept smiling at her. She couldn’t be sure. All she knew was, she was glad he asked her out again, even if it was only a pity date.
“I think I’m going to get an appetizer and a drink,” she told him. “I’m not all that hungry.”
“Me either, actually.”
“After all that packing, you should be good and ready for another steak,” she told him.
“Nah. I had lunch with my girlfriend earlier so I’m still a little full from that.”
Elsie frowned while glancing up at him, watching him laugh.
“Gotcha,” he scoffed.
“Very funny.”
“What?” he said, still amused. “You said this wasn’t a date. Aren’t we free to see other people?”
“Is that how dating usually works? I wouldn’t know.”
“For some people it does. For me, nah. I’m just kidding. I like to see you smile. You look so serious all the time. You need to loosen up a bit.”
“I’m trying to. Trust me. Agreeing to go out with you took a lot out of me, because, like I told you before, I instinctively want to decline every invite. Every party. Anything that involves leaving my apartment. I’m a natural homebody.”
“Also known as a twenty-first century cave woman,” he quipped.
A smile grazed her lips. “If that’s the way you want to put it.”
He glanced over the menu. “I’ll try the shrimp and cheese. Why don’t you choose something you’ve never had before?”
“Um…” Elsie browsed through the appetizers. “In that case, I’ll try the jalapeño poppers.”
He lifted a brow. “You’ve never tried jalapeño poppers?”
“No. Priscilla’s always trying to get me to try them, but I never have.”
“Why not?”
“Because she gets on my nerves and I hate how she tries to get me to like everything she likes. Like her husband for instance. Ugh. He’s a pain in the rear.”
Trevor chuckled. “Why’s that?”
“For one thing, he talks way too much. He sounds like those infomercial men who are always trying to pitch you something. But I guess it works since he’s successful. And every time he sees me, he calls me Elsie, Elsie. I never understood why he has to say my name twice.”
Trevor laughed again.
The waitress came by to take their orders, then Trevor looked at Elsie and said, “So, Elsie, tell me about yourself.”
“You do realize we had the tell-me-about-yourself conversation the last time we went out.”
“Yes, and I barely learned anything about you. I remember you’re from Boston. I think you said your parents were still there.”
“Yeah.”
“When was the last time you visited them?”
“Oh, goodness. It’s been years.”
“Years?” he asked.
“Yes. I haven’t been back there since I moved here for college.”
“Wow.”
“I talk to them on the phone very sparingly, but—”
“Not in person.”
“Right.”
Trevor could see sadness fall over her face. He knew it was none of his concern but he wanted to know the story behind her purposely staying away from them.
“What about you, Trevor?” she asked, making pointed eye
contact with him. “Are you close with your parents?”
“With my mother, yes. My father…well I could ramble all night about that buster. He’s the reason I didn’t go visit my mother at all last year. I know I shouldn’t let that hold me back, but some things in life are better left alone.”
Elsie nodded.
When the appetizers arrived, she tried one of the jalapeño poppers, liked it, then offered some to him.
“Mmm…that’s a good popper. Would you like to try some shrimp? And before you ask, yes, it is as good as it looks.”
“Okay. You’ve convinced me. I’ll give it a try.”
“Awesome,” he said, proud of her for not saying no. He watched her taste it, taking in the innocent beauty of her face. Her eyes were as dark as charcoal which matched the black hair on her head. Her eyelashes were long and beautiful. Nose, elegant. Lips ample and plump, and she had one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. He visualized in his mind what she would look like without her glasses and with her hair draping her shoulders instead of hidden in a ponytail.
“Not bad, right?” he asked after she ate the shrimp.
“No. Not bad at all.”
He resumed eating, then asked, “Do you enjoy your job, Elsie?”
“It pays the bills.”
“So, the answer is no, then.”
Elsie dabbed her mouth with a napkin, then explained, “It’s just another one of those things that an introvert has to go through. The job is a job and I’m too shy to try to work my way up the ladder or go somewhere else to apply for something better and meet a whole new set of people. It’s nerve-racking.”
“So was coming out with me tonight, but here you are.”
“Yeah. Here I am,” she said.
“What is it about me that interests you, Elsie?”
“Who says there’s something about you that interests me?”
“You’re saying it without saying it, so tell me.”
Elsie grinned, then took a sip of water before she said, “Okay. I know this is going to sound really stupid, but I always had this dream man in my mind and you fit him perfectly.”
