“Next!” The small man behind the desk motions for me to move forward. Abandoning the task at hand I step closer to the counter.
“Yes. Hi, remember me?” I put on a sweet smile but he just looks back at me with a flat expression. Shit. I forgot what to ask.
As it is, my parents already think I’m spiraling out of control, meanwhile Dax is suggesting I avoid going home, and I’m fairly confident Nicholas would not appreciate anyone else seeing this. This is my only option.
“I’d like to mail something please.” His face remains neutral, aside from one eyebrow rising. “Oh right.” I shove my hand in my pocket, realizing I have to actually produce what I’d like to be sent off. “It’s quite small, but extremely important. I need it to be discreet.” I lowered my voice on the last part.
With all the composure of a qualified, seedy mail clerk, he nods once and shuffles over to another area behind the counter. Using a key adhered to his wrist coil, he opens a locked cabinet to reveal a collection of black boxes, each with a small padlock. He removes one of the containers before walking back to the counter, opening the lid for me.
“Place item inside.” He closes his eyes and turns away in succession.
Okay…? We’re the only two people in the shop, but I appreciate the notion.
I place the microSD card into the black box.
“Done?”
I nod before remembering his eyes are closed like a child playing hide and seek.
“Yes,” I announce.
He snaps the metallic box lid shut. From his back pocket he places a worn spiral notepad on the counter between us. “Write name and address here.” He taps his finger on the lined paper next to a pen on the counter.
Not much for small talk I see. I bet Dax would get along great with him. “I can do that. Thank you.” I wrote down the address of the house I stayed at, when I visited the Catskills. My parents need to see this. I know they’re still residing there. This card should be kept safe, especially if my uncle, half the Murrays, and maybe even Officer Kent may pose a threat.
The man hastily puts on the readers which hang from his neck. Reviewing the addressee, then glancing back at me, “Lombardi?” His once neutral expression softens, eyes widen, as the corner of his mouth raises gradually. A “hmm” sound escapes him despite his tight-lipped expression.
In the blink of an eye, he slips the paper with the address into the box, shuts, and locks the box with an even smaller key in his collection.
That’s it?
He migrates over to some kind of label maker and begins changing over to a fresh roll.
Do I not pay because my family is a known Mafia name around these parts? Okay… this is awkward. I feel like I’m taking advantage. I should buy something. Clearing my throat, I pull out my wallet. “While I’m here. Could I purchase a book of stamps, please?”
He nods a few times and proceeds to the adjacent counter to retrieve the item. Giving him my card, he hands me a strip of forever stamps with festive Christmas trees. His face naturally creases when he smiles, nodding once again.
“Thank you.” I leave with the stamps, feeling as though the universe is giving me the middle finger. I really fucking hate Christmas. Now all my outgoing mail will be christened with holiday cheer.
Outside Mail Haven, I finally have a moment to text Dax, but I find he’s already sent me a message instead.
Dax the Friendly Stalker: Don’t go home.
I type back.
Cindel: I figured as much.
A few dots dance at the bottom of the thread, just ahead of another message.
Dax the Friendly Stalker: Where are you? You’re not wearing your present.
Is he for real? I’m not wearing a plug whenever I’m not in his presence.
My phone buzzes,
Dax the Friendly Stalker: Do you like being punished?
Christ… between him, my family, and the Murrays, I’m going to have a head full of gray before thirty! I look down at the taunting stickered trees in my hand. Punishment does seem to come naturally to me, as of late.
