THE LETTER

“Open it, Glenda. It’s been sitting on the table for almost two days. For godssake, It makes my fingers itch just wondering what’s inside! It must be something important, something serious. I mean to use old-fashioned snail mail. Old-fashioned registered snail mail. Let me get my old-fashioned letter opener. “

“No! Keep your hands away from my mail, Cat. Remember, we may share an apartment, but the letter is addressed to me. “

“Maybe someone you know died? If you open this too late, you’ll miss the funeral. Or the memorial or whatever!”

“I don’t know why my unopened letter makes you think of death, Cat!”

“Or, Glenda, maybe you inherited a million dollars? Or even more! Imagine!”

“Don’t be silly, who would leave me a million dollars? Nobody I know would even leave me even a million Legos….”

“If you don’t open it pretty soon, it will be collecting dust, Glenda. “

“Fine, then it will be vintage snail mail. I can sell it on eBay. “

“It’s a registered letter, Glenda. Registered. That means something.”

“People send all kinds of things registered. …… Including collection letters. And spam.”

“Oh, now you took the fun out of it. What if it is just someone collecting back fines on your old VW ? All the romance is gone. “

“You’re wrong. There was no romance to begin with. Anyway, I thought you were making us French toast? That would be more interesting than this silly guessing game.”

.

“How can you think of your stomach at a time like this? I know! It’s a letter, a sweet message from an old boyfriend, a long-ago lover, an ex-something. Some dude (or girl) who wants to rekindle that flame. Come clean, Glenda. Let’s open it and see.”

“Cat, Stop. Now you sound like some corny romcom .I hope you don’t talk to your first-graders like this.”

“Or Glenda, how about this? It’s some Mr. Dreamy who wants to start something. A secret admirer who has been watching you come and go from the office, and he likes the mystery and throwback idea of snail mail to seduce you. That would be appealing to you, Glenda. With your old-fashioned name, you are a modern romantic, even if you are only 28. Look at the books you read and the movies you watch!”

“I’m 31, Cat. And what the heck, are you saying this mystery man, who sounds like a stalker to me, is so old he doesn’t use email??? Next, he’ll be calling me from a payphone to take me to the local sock hop. Is that your weird fantasy?”

“You’re impossible. My brother Ted used to be like you, Glenda. At Christmas and birthdays, and graduations, wherever there were gifts to open, he would take forever to get down to opening his presents. It made everybody crazy. He would putter around in the kitchen, and once he even took the dog for a walk while we all sat there in front of the Christmas tree with all the unwrapped gifts. I could have killed him! I never get any good surprises.”

“And when he did open his gifts, it was probably anticlimactic after all that collective breath holding. Like you’re doing now. “

“Ok, if you're going to be that way. Let's make a game out of it. We’ll both take three guesses. And then you’ll open it, and whoever is right gets to spring for dinner tonight.”

“Dinner? We haven't even had brunch yet. And now you’re setting the rules? It’s my letter, after all. Even if I don’t care whether I ever open it,”

“But you have to open it. On the other hand, it could be something bad. What if the landlord is raising our rent, the bastard? This is just how he would do it, the bastard. Glenda, I don't have any spare cash at all. I went through the 40lK from my last job to pay for the car. The bastard! He is probably in Antibes right now with that fat, cross-eyed wife of his and his two slacker kids. Maybe I should have kept the Ford Escort and made do.”

“Cat, relax. Wade told us the law restricts him from raising the rent again for at least a year. Anyway, that Escort was a joke. You did the right thing to junk it.”

“I guess. Maybe the letter is a charity looking for donations. One of those cat charities you support that sends you calendars every year!”

“It's not cats, it's wildlife. And they don't send calendars anymore. Not in 2026. Anyway, I haven’t had any spare change either this year, so dinner out is out.”

“ What if it’s one of those unclaimed property letters? You hear about them all the time. Oh, Glenda, imagine what if you were the owner of an island somewhere in the Caribbean?”

“It would be a pretty small one…”

“Yes, a small but exotic island in the Caribbean that your folks never told you about. And the deed is sitting there unclaimed, waiting for you. They have your name in a database somewhere. Omg, it is so exciting. Glenda, we could pack up and move to the Caribbean and be sitting on the beach in our bikinis in just days. We could tell Wade where to shove it! You could quit your job at that boring insurance company. What are you waiting for, Glenda? You could give that no-good boyfriend of yours a short goodbye. He’s never bought you a single piece of jewelry. And what has it been, 3 years? Loser.”

“Cat, my parents weren’t that absent-minded. They actually had a will. There was no mention of a small exotic island in the Caribbean. That's not the kind of thing that slips your mind. Or that you keep a secret from your children, is it?”

“ Ok, well, maybe you won something in the lottery!”

“That would be a miracle because I never play the lottery.”

“Ok, but it could be a free giveaway–tickets to the musical theater or the ballgame at Shea Stadium or free airfare somewhere …what if that’s what’s in there, Glenda? “

“Sure, how about airfare to an exotic Caribbean island that it turns out I actually own ??? Cat, you’re letting your imagination get the best of you.”

“Glenda, you sure you don’t have an old auntie somewhere who died and left you, her only niece, her jewel case with the Hope diamonds and emerald brooches?”

“More likely, she would have left me her aging King Charles spaniel, the one with the arthritis and the incontinence. That is, if I even had an auntie anywhere. And I don’t. Cat, what's in it for you, all this fussing about my letter? “Chances are it's just a long overdue bill that I forgot about. That's why I am not itching to open it. Bad news can always wait.”

“But you don’t know it’s bad news, Glenda. There’s only one way to find out.”

“Ok, Ok…. Because you are my best friend, and you refuse to stop nagging me. We’ll open it. Be prepared to be underwhelmed. Hand me the letter opener. Here goes. Hold it, who the heck is it at the door? Get it, Cat.”

“Hi, Cat and Glenda. I’m Cathy Conlin, from upstairs, number 203. And that’s my letter over there on the table. I know it seems strange, but I had it addressed to you, Glenda, because I didn’t want the landlord to find out that I just inherited a Caribbean Island from an old aunt. Not when I’m behind in the rent. Just imagine, a real island.

I knew you girls would understand. I don’t know how to thank you.

Well, there is one thing. I know you love animals, Glenda. You get those cat calendars every year, and well, I also inherited Auntie Grace’s jewels and her King Charles Spaniel. He’s aging and all, but he’s sweet and yours for the taking.

You don’t have to thank me. Well, I have some bikinis to pack!”

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