My Dearest Madelyn

“Get out.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.”

“Maddie, please—”

“Don’t."

John tried to open the door further. He had just returned home from a long business trip in Philadelphia, and he could hardly wait to see his girl. Well, he had wanted to see her. The moment he walked in the door, he was greeted by the lovely but livid figure of his girlfriend, Madelyn. Her blond tresses were flowing freely over her shoulders, and she was even wearing her most attractive dress.

“Maddie, I just—”

“Get out!” she threw his suitcase at him as he tried to coax his way back into the room.

He exhaled sharply as the suitcase hit him in the chest. His knees buckled under its weight. Staggering, John managed to regain his balance only to have another bag launched at him. This one caused him to drop the suitcase, bursting open and spilling its contents all over the apartment floor.

He groaned.

“Maddie, let’s not—”

“All you ever do is work, John! Work, work, work!” she yelled, her voice cracking on the last ‘work’. “I never get to see you! And when you finally get back, what happens? You give your secretary an engagement ring!” Her lower lip trembled as her voice increased in volume.

John stopped. She had seen him?

He closed his eyes and shook his head. No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen!

“No! Maddie, you don’t understand. It was just—”

“Just what, John?”She interjected, tears sprouting in her eyes. “I thought you loved me, John. Only me.”

“I love you more than anything, Maddie.”

“But how can I know that?” Her voice held every ounce of her rage and sadness. “You told me that before, John. And I was stupid enough to believe it.” She closed her eyes as tears flowed down her pink cheeks.

John took a few hesitant steps over to her and sighed. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Maddie. Please, just look me in the eye,” he placed his hands on her shoulders.

She shrugged them off.

“Don’t touch me.”

John’s eyes widened for a moment, then fixed their gaze onto the floor. He turned, gathered up all of his bags and walked out of the apartment. He couldn’t bring himself to turn his head to look back at her as he shut the door, her quiet sobs ringing in his ears.

Madelyn just stood in the middle of the room, arms wrapped tightly to her body in attempt to anchor herself while the rest of her felt like caving in.

***

John was never much of a romantic. He loved Madelyn with all of his heart, but he wasn’t one to put it into words. As he sat on the bed in his apartment, head in his hands, he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

The plane had arrived much sooner than expected, and during most of the flight he had been contemplating something of utter importance. Once he got off of this plane, he was prepared to change his life. He was going to live the way he wanted to, not the way he was supposed to.

After calling a taxi, he decided to head over to the mall. Upon arrival, he called the only other woman who lived close enough by (and who wouldn’t mind being called so late in the evening). His secretary, Cheryl, arrived a few minutes later and he explained his new ideas to her. She agreed wholeheartedly and offered to give him a ride home after they were finished at the mall.

It was difficult for John to find what Madelyn might like, but Cheryl helped immensely. He couldn’t have done it without her, really. It was a shame that the moment he asked for her opinion in the jewelry department, he didn’t see a young woman quite a few display cases down gasp and leave suddenly. She had just been to the beauty salon so she would look nice when her lover arrived later from a business trip.

When Cheryl dropped John off at Madelyn's apartment complex, she gave him a small hug and a heartfelt goodbye. She told him how happy she was for him, and how she would see him around. John made his way up to Madelyn's apartment, eager to see the woman who held his heart.

But something went wrong.

He straightened his back and rubbed his eyes, his head throbbing. A few minutes passed when his gaze fell upon a blank sheet of paper lying on his bedside table. He sighed and picked it up, fishing through his suitcase for a pen. If this was what he had to do, he would.

All for Madelyn. He couldn’t lose her. Not now.

***

The postman hated his job. He hated it with an absolute, indescribable, fiery passion that could only be compared to the flames of Hell. Because of this, he treated everyone who dared to associate themselves with him like the dirt beneath his shoes. Many often wondered why on earth someone like him continued his occupation, but his answer, if anyone bothered to ask, was always because he "just couldn't quit".

It was December 10th, 2008. A cold day to be out delivering mail to those who, in his opinion, were "too lazy to get it themselves". The air was rather foggy as it often was come winter, and the postman could see his breath stream from his mouth in small puffs. He wrapped his scarf around his neck once more and adjusted his earmuffs.

The only thing that kept him going that evening was the promise of going home to see his wife. He didn’t like her all that much, but boy, could she cook. Tonight would probably be pork chops, and the old postman couldn’t wait. This blasted cold weather always made his head pound and his stomach ache for some good hot food. But he still had quite a way to go before he could head back home.

He groaned and began making his way down the streets when he came across a street vendor selling roasted peanuts. Stomach rumbling, he crossed the street towards the vendor. He was just a step away from the other side of the road when a bright red Camry came to a screeching halt no less than an inch from the man.

Because the driver of the vehicle had managed to successfully avoid ending the life of the city's beloved postman, he jumped out of his car and began to shake his fist at the jay-walking perpetrator.

Meanwhile, the postman had attempted to jump out of the way, but failed and landed in strange position on the curb. His bag had spilled and letters flew everywhere. Bills, magazines, invitations; all were scattered across the curbside. The mail carrier scurried up and managed to snatch up all but one. It had landed between the grates of a gutter, and the postman decided that it was too filthy for him to pick up.

He shrugged, figuring it was better off in the gutter.

***

After John left, Madelyn had cried the remainder of the evening. She even cried herself to sleep while wondering what had gone wrong. What had she done that had driven John away from her? Why did it have to happen?

The next day she stayed in her apartment and waited. She sat by her phone, anticipating a call. For something. For anything. For a shred of hope that things were going to be the way they were, and John would love her once again.

Night had begun to fall when Madelyn made her decision. If he really loved her, he would make the first attempt to speak with her. If not, then he really did love Cheryl, and Madelyn wouldn’t get in the way. She would let them be happy together and let them love one another, just as she had loved John.

She would wait for John.

Madelyn never heard from him again.

***

At a small French restaurant across the town sat a man. He occupied a single seat at a table meant for two. The restaurant would be closing in less than an hour, and he was the only customer there. He arrived at 5:00 pm and had been there for almost four hours now. Much to the annoyance of the manager, he hadn’t eaten a thing. For the first three hours he had checked his watch several times a minute, his eyes straining as if hoping he was reading the hands wrong.

For the past half hour he had taken up staring in silence at the empty seat across from him. A young waiter had tried and failed many times to offer him something to drink, but the man just refused with a shake of his head. Once closing time came around, the waiter approached the man once more, feeling a strong sense of sympathy for him.

“I’m sorry, sir. It’s closing time.”

The man said nothing, but kept his head in his hands.

The waiter leaned forward.

“Sir..?”

The man shook, and several wet drops slipped through his hands and onto the clean tablecloth. Lifting his head, he opened his right hand. The ring he had been clutching had left distinct marks on the inside of his palm. The man turned his hand downward and allowed the small ring to drop onto the table.

He left without a word.

He had to get some rest. He had to go back to his job in the morning. The job he had been going to quit.

Just to be with her.

***

“Mommy, what’s this?”

A woman who looked to be in her thirties replied, “What's what, sweetie?”

The child held up a crumpled piece of paper from the side of the street. It was ripped, dirty, soggy, and looked as if it had even been run over a few times.

“Ryan! Put that down! That’s disgusting!” she quickly swatted the paper out of the boy’s chubby hands and thrust a small green umbrella at him. “Here, it’s starting to sprinkle. Hold this.”

The boy proudly held up his umbrella as the two began to walk back down the city streets towards home.

The crumpled paper fell back into the gutter where the child had found it. True, the paper was dirty. There was mud and water, rips and tears, and even tire marks. And it was the most beautifully sad thing in the world. Through the ink smudges and the dirt one could see written:

My Dearest Madelyn,

Please, hear me out.

You know I love you more than life itself – you have to. Who else but you would stay with someone who’s gone for months on end? I don’t know, and probably will never know why you always insisted that you’d be right here when I got back. Sometimes the only thing that would ease the pain of not having you was the thought of being with you again. The only thing that kept me from feeling broken was the assurance you gave me every single night when you called— only to tell me that you were still there.

Madelyn, darling, what you saw yesterday was a mistake. I was not cheating on you, nor would I ever. Cheryl was helping me shop for you. You have to understand that I don’t know the first thing about shopping, let alone what women like. I didn’t want to tell you because…well, here. I’ll show you.

Maddie, if you still love me and will still hold me in your heart, then I want you to meet me.

Tomorrow, December 11th at 5:00 pm, at the Château Fantaisie.

I will wait for you all night if I must, but if you decide not to come, then I understand. I will never deserve someone as breathtakingly ideal as you, Maddie. I never have. I knew that God had smiled upon me the day that we met. But I still cannot understand why you wanted me. You deserve so much better, Maddie. Someone who will always be by your side. Someone who will never leave you. I want to say I’m so sorry I’ve never been able to live up to that.

If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I will see you tomorrow night.

If you find that my love isn’t satisfactory, then you don’t have to show up. If I leave for home tomorrow night without you back in my arms, I will never burden you again. I will keep my things at my apartment, and I will not bother you with calls or letters. If we should ever meet again after that, it will be as mere acquaintances.

I love you, Maddie.

And if this is it, farewell.

John