Correspondence
Week 3, Day 1
Joy crumpled the half-read letter and stuffed it into her cardigan pocket. Tears gathered precariously on her lower eyelids, ready to plunge down her cheeks, but she squeezed her eyes shut, wiping away the excess saline, and steeled herself to go back inside. The sidewalk from the mailbox to the front step stretched ahead, an epic journey divided into eight neat squares of cement. She trudged across them, one after another, bracing herself against the rising sorrow inside.
Beth’s obnoxious toy poodle scrabbled at the screen door as Joy drew near, yapping in that incessant way that Beth somehow found endearing. Beth and the dog had been staying with Joy for a mere two weeks, and already half the door trim in the house bore deep scratches on its bottom six inches. Joy gently pushed the dog back with one foot while edging in through the screen door, keeping the dog from running outside. Why, Joy thought, do we keep this dog cooped up inside if she longs to roam free? Is it cruel to keep her contained in this artificial world, where she lives a pampered but wholly unnatural lifestyle, when she would clearly rather make her own ways in the wilds of these suburban streets? The answer to that question was that Beth would murder Joy if she let the dog out, because Beth loved that dog more than she loved her own sister. Joy stepped over the dog and through the small entryway to the too-dim living room.
“Anything good in the mail?” Beth was sitting in the shadowed corner farthest from the windows, holding her glowing phone close to her face. She didn’t look up at Joy, which was a mercy. If there was any evidence of Joy’s emotional distress, Beth would never notice.
“Bills all the way down,” Joy lied. The crumpled letter in her pocket rustled accusingly, and she ignored it while setting the mobile phone and natural gas bills on the coffee table.
“Nothing from Joseph?” Beth prodded, still not looking up from her screen.
“Nope,” Joy lied again.
“That fool,” Beth said, shaking her head. “He’s picking a lock he doesn’t open. No good comes of that.”
Joy let out a mirthless chuckle. “No good indeed.”
Beth looked up at that, finally sensing something was off. “Are you ok?”
“Fine,” Joy said, and turned to leave the room. “I’m making myself tea. Do you want any?”
“Wait,” Beth said. “Yes, I do want tea, but you seem off. What’s going on?”
Joy sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She walked away from Beth, heading to the kitchen, but Beth rose from her seat and followed.
“Come on, out with it. You’ll feel better if you tell me whatever it is.”
“I’ll feel better, or you’ll feel better?” Joy asked, reaching for a tin of loose-leaf tea and setting the kettle on the stove.
“Both,” Beth said. “This is a win-win proposition. So come on. What’s on your mind?”
Click click click. The gas burner roared on, a tiny inferno held captive to do Joy’s bidding.
***
This is a story-start — if you’d like to see where the story goes, “clap” for it. My “winning” start (based on number of readers who clap for it) will be developed further and might grow into a full short story!
