The Letter

She woke gradually, dreaming of a white dress with pearls, and roses, lots of roses. It warmed her place in the bed and coaxed her back to sleep. “Too early to get up, I still smell roses; oh yes; the roses along the walk out to the mail box. I’ll get the letter today. He left Monday. Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday…” Today was Saturday. “I’ll get it today for sure. No, maybe he’s too busy unpacking or he has run out of stamps. Sometimes the mail holds things up…back to sleep.” But the dream wouldn’t come again and she woke hot and damp from sleeping in the sun too long. She got up and went to the window. There was a new layer of dust on the sill on the window. “It will be hot today; oh, it gets so hot, but look at the roses.” She remembered the letter and counted the days to be sure, but it should have come Wednesday.

She dressed and went into the kitchen. “So you’re up,” her mother said from the next room.

“Yes.”

“Have a good sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Better get some breakfast.”

She found a piece of bread and stepped out onto the front porch; the boards were warm under her feet. Looking up the road, the girl saw that the neighbor’s mail flags were down. She wiped her hands on her shirt and stepped out onto the hot cement. She walked slowly, stopping to look at the roses. Most of them were brown around the edges.

The neighbor boy sat across the road poking a stick at the dirt. It rose around him and settled on his jeans. She reached the box and touched the lid.

“Your mother already got it,” he said. She dropped her hand and looked at him for a moment. Then she stepped toward the house, but stopped when she saw her mother standing in the door way, holding open the screen and shielding her eyes with her other hand. “Did you want me to get the mail?” called the girl.

“I already got it,” called the mother.

“I told you,” shouted the neighbor boy.

She bit her lip and walked back slowly, looking at her mother for the answer. Her mother shook her head.” Not much, just a bill.”

She walked up the steps. I think I’d better water the roses,” she said. She walked past her mother and went into her room.