Run Away Baby

“Then do it.”

Abby hung up feeling like Celeste wasn’t being very nice, all things considered. Resentment over the material abundance within her reach was affecting her friends’ opinions of her. Despite what she had lost, they had their opinions and jealousies over her getting free trips and presents while they ate toast and ramen noodles and worried whether they had enough money for the gas required to get to work.

On the second night of the trip Randall came into Abby’s room. He started rubbing her back and she was too tired to fight it. She let him have sex with her. He proposed to her on the last night of their trip. She felt guilty about letting him take her on such a nice vacation so she said yes.

Part of her had died with her family. She’d been numb ever since. Whatever, who cares, she thought. She’d had this idea that she didn’t have much time left and what difference did it make if she finished her remaining days with him. She was glad that she was able to make anyone happy, since she couldn’t make herself happy. Now, years later, she wondered how she hadn’t realized that each day was still going to take twenty-four hours, and that she’d had her whole life ahead of her. At that time, back when she was a hundred million years old and half dead, it hadn’t felt like that.

Chapter 9

“I suppose I can stick around today if you need me to,” Abby told Danielle.

“Thank you. I’m having lunch with a friend from college and we couldn’t schedule it any other time. Thank you so much.” She actually looked like she meant it.

“Really, it’s nothing.”

Randall had been surprisingly indifferent to Abby going from eight to ten hours per week, so she’d begun covering for Danielle’s lunch almost every time she worked. These two hours, when the office was empty and Danielle was not around to hover and criticize, were becoming Abby’s favorite time of the week.

A few minutes after Danielle left, the front door opened and in walked the mailman.

“Well, hello there,” he said.

“Hi,” Abby said. The letters were ready, set aside in a tidy pile.

“It’s Abby, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Charlie,” said the mailman, sticking out his hand to her. He’d only introduced himself to her five or six times now. These introductions were becoming his little game.

“Nice to see you again, Charlie.”

“Is that a new dress?”

“It’s not a dress. It’s just a top with a skirt.”

“Well, it looks good on you. You look tan.”

“Thank you,” she said, glancing down at her daisy patterned blouse.

“So, what have you got for me today?”

“Just these,” she said, handing him the pile of outgoing mail.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Do you think it’s fair,” he asked, setting the plastic bin of letters by her feet, “that I keep bringing you all this, and all I get in return is one little stack of mail?” He propped his elbows on the little ledge in front of her, leaning over her, grinning.

“Who ever said life was fair?” she asked him.

“Huh.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t take you for the jaded type.”

“I’m not jaded. I’m a realist.”

“A realist, you say.”

She nodded, glancing at the door. She didn’t want Clark Lorbmeer to walk in and discover the mailman hanging over her, dripping sweat onto all the partners’ business cards.