“You have a package,” Brad is saying and Jeannie is holding out a white envelope with a blue tie-string. I think the blood visibly drains from my face because Jeannie’s smile drops as she lowers the envelope. What is she doing with it?
I snatch it from her hand and I watch Brad flinch, first away and then toward me, almost aggressively. I lurch backward as he does, protecting my prize.
“Where did you get this?” I demand.
Jeannie frowns as her brow curls up. “That’s a terrible way to welcome someone! What’s going on here?”
I’m hugging the envelope awkwardly, “What were you doing with it? Why did you have it? Who gave it to you?”
Both she and Brad are walking toward me as I involuntarily retreat. Brad speaks through strained words, “What’s so important about that envelope?”
“It was on your doormat, Liam,” Jeannie is explaining, still following me in my backward path toward the kitchen, “I just picked it up for you. As a courtesy.”
“Are you okay?” Brad demands. “What is this all about?”
I feel a small sense of relief wash over me with the news of how it came to be in her possession, but the heat in my neck is still rising. “Oh,” I drop the envelope to my side and try to laugh an apologetic laugh, unsuccessfully I’m sure. “It’s nothing. It’s just something I was expecting.”
Jeannie and Brad share a glance that communicates a lot between them. A lot that I’m being left out of. There’s silence in the room for a heartbeat as they both look back to me and then down to the envelope swinging awkwardly in my hand. “That’s no ordinary package, Liam. Not by the way you’re acting,” she says.
“What’s in it?” Brad demands, “And why is it so important that it makes you react this way?” I really want their tone to be playful, like they’re teasing me in a fun way, but their entire body language radiates deep concern and worry.
I’m suddenly searching for words and trying to rub the heat from my neck.
Retreating for safety on the other side of the small kitchen, I set the envelope on the kitchen island now between us. The distance helps my breath relax, and Brad slides out a stool and plops himself down at the island bar. Jeannie leans into the counter with her palms, her eyes digging into me.
“I’m sorry. I was just shocked to see you holding it.” My voice fractures. I can’t make eye contact with either of them as I fumble with a drawer-knob for comfort.
Neither respond. Their eyes are burning holes in me. They don’t move.
“I have a secret person.” I hiss finally, looking up at them, slamming one hand on the countertop with a sting. “That envelope is from my secret person.”
“Your secret what?” Brad breathes, and Jeannie reaches across the counter to squeeze his arm.
Jeannie starts: “You have a secret…”
“Person. Admirer. Whatever you want to call it.” I’m running my hand through my hair involuntarily.
There’s a heartbeat of silence that I just can’t bear, so I fill it with something: “I have a secret admirer, or person, or somebody who I’m communicating with but I don’t know who they are, so they are a secret person. Like a pen pal, but without letters.”
I look up to see Brad completely bewildered and Jeannie smiling so tightly she’s squinting, her teeth glistening as if to blind me. “You have a secret admirer?” she sings, almost ecstatic.
“A what? A pen pal?” Brad’s face is curled up in knots. Jeannie squeezes his arm again and he looks her way, which seems to help his face relax, so I’m assuming he’s caught on.
“This is exciting Liam. You should tell us all about it.” Jeannie is beaming and her posture has straightened. “So your secret person sends you stuff in that envelope?”
“And leaves it on your doormat?” Brad is assembling the pieces together.
“Well, not always on the doormat,” I stammer, still playing with the drawer knob. “Actually, never on the doormat. I think that was the first time for the journal.”
“Journal?” Jeannie is huffing her words. “That’s a journal? Your secret person sends you a journal?” She looks to Brad with excitement, but his response is quizzical.
“It’s a notebook and we both write in it,” I say.
The room seems to exhale. It feels like the universe has just let out a giant sigh. “You both write in it? That’s so sweet.” Jeannie is nearly singing again and she begins to hug herself. “What do you write?”
Brad looks from her to me with the same question on his face, but his face makes the question seem more analytical than Jeannie’s.
“About the things my secret person has me do. Like the places they send me. Stuff like that.”
