“orry I missed you—I swung by on my way to
if you’d be here but that was a long shot.
such a long time, and I’m sorry for that too. My
ave some time that afternoon and maybe we could
Cup? It’s the one by the airport. If you were free—”
Sunna stopped. At the bottom of the letter, instead of a signature, there was a tiny letter B. Could it be for her after all? She remembered the way her stomach had dropped every time her phone beeped for months after Brett disappeared on her, with some mixture of hope and preemptive disappointment and anger. She remembered it vividly because, for the first time in a while, she was experiencing it right now.
“Keep going,” said Maude. She sounded anxious all of a sudden.
“I can’t. That’s all there is.”
“A little water isn’t going to make a whole letter illegible,” said Maude stubbornly. “Are you sure there’s not more there?”
“No,” said Sunna. Her anxiety was making her even more irritable. “Maude. Half of the letter is missing. Gone.”
Mackenzie’s face bore the same eager expression as Maude’s. “Can I see that?” she asked.
But before Sunna could hand it to her, Maude reached forward and snatched the letter, almost dropping her groceries on the ground. A little more of the paper tore off, but it was so soggy it made no sound. “I have an inkling this was meant for me,” Maude said. She spoke in a reverent whisper and moved toward the door, fumbling with her keys, the letter pinned between her elbow and her body, a damp spot growing on her coat.
“Maude, I was trying to hand that to Mackenzie.”
Mackenzie smiled gratefully.
“Well, it’s not for Mackenzie,” said Maude. “It’s for me. I know exactly who wrote it.”
“You think you know who wrote it,” said Sunna. “But maybe Mackenzie does too. You can’t just declare that it’s yours and not let her look at it.”
Maude glared at Sunna. She looked Mackenzie up and down. At last, she sighed. “Fine, then—come inside. It’s too cold out here for this.”
The shared entryway was a small room with three locked doors: behind one was Sunna’s apartment, and behind the other two were staircases to Maude’s and Mackenzie’s. Maude unlocked the one on the right and tromped up the stairs clutching the letter; Mackenzie and Sunna followed at a safe distance, like Maude was a bomb.
At the top of the stairs was another door, and behind that, a living room with big naked windows and gleaming hardwood floors. Maude’s square heels echoed throughout the room. A blue-and-white floral couch rested against the far wall, looking crumpled and out of place. A cat perched, statue-still, on one of the cushions, contemplating the visitors. There was a TV/VCR combo on the floor with several precarious stacks of videocassette tapes on either side. This was what there was and nothing else, not even a speck of dust.
“You’re not moved in yet?” asked Mackenzie.
Maude didn’t seem to hear the question. She had already disappeared into the kitchen. Sunna and Mackenzie stood at the top of the stairs, unsure if they should follow.
“Come!” Maude barked, her voice reverberating off the walls, and they scurried after her. The kitchen, like the living room, looked empty and unused. It smelled like bleach and lemons. The appliances and cupboards, at least, took up a little space, but the countertops gleamed, and the open shelves had nothing on them but a plastic salt and pepper set and a couple of plates. There was a dining table with four mismatched wooden chairs, and the bag of groceries Maude had been carrying was now on the floor by the refrigerator. Maude was already seated at the table, the letter in front of her, wrinkling up as it dried to match the hands holding it.
“Sit down,” she said to Mackenzie. Hunched over her dinner table with her black blouse and sharp chin, she reminded Sunna of a vulture. “What are you doing here?”
The question was for Sunna.
“You said to come inside.”
“I said for Mackenzie to come inside. This isn’t your business.”
Sunna sat down defiantly. “It’s my mailbox too. Possibly my letter.”
Maude frowned but didn’t press the issue. She set the letter in front of her and fixed her eyes on Mackenzie. “I need to put my groceries away—goodness knows everything’s going to melt in there—but first we need to sort this nonsense out. Read it again.”
Sunna picked the letter up. “I already read everything I could—”
“So read that again.”
“Stop talking and I will.” Maude looked wounded and Sunna couldn’t make herself feel bad about it. She cleared her throat, drawing it out until she noticed the look on Mackenzie’s face—not quite impatient, but silently pleading with her to hurry—and felt guilty. She read what she could once more and then added, “And there’s a B at the bottom.”
Maude almost jumped out of her chair at this. “A B? You didn’t say that before.”
“I’m saying it now. I didn’t realize I hadn’t said it out loud before. I’m sorry.”
“That’s a pretty important detail to just leave out.” Maude took the letter back again, searching for the B.
“Right there.” Sunna pointed. “I’m pretty sure it’s a B.” B for Brett.
“May I?” Mackenzie held out her hand, and Maude reluctantly gave her the letter.
“I don’t think that’s a B. I think it’s a heart. Tipped over on its side a little,” Mackenzie said, excited. “This looks like it was written by a woman. It’s very pretty handwriting.”
“Some men have pretty handwriting,” said Maude, staring past Mackenzie at the clock on the wall behind her. “I’ve known a man with gorgeous penmanship.” She plucked the letter from Mackenzie’s hands and squinted at it. “Like this. It looked just like this. I’m almost certain . . .” Then she seemed to reconsider her tone. She handed the letter back to Mackenzie. “You have younger eyes than Susan. Could it be an R? An R could look like a B or a heart, couldn’t it?”
Sunna opened her mouth to correct Maude but closed it again. Maude could call her whatever she wanted. It wasn’t like they’d be talking much after today, but she’d have to talk to her more now just to say that her name wasn’t Susan.
Mackenzie shrugged. “I’m so sorry, Maude. I wish I could read more too. But what’s not there just . . . isn’t.”
Maude pressed her lips together and raised the forehead where her eyebrows presumably once were. “Okay. Well then.”
Sunna took the letter back again. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. That what’s not there isn’t, I mean. There’s enough here to assume a few of the words that aren’t, right?”
“True,” said Mackenzie, leaning in. “Oh! Like, that ‘Cup,’ there—that’s Paper Cup. It’s a coffee shop. It’s by the airport, like it says. Just on the other side of the Lewvan. It’s cute. They have good pastries. That’s what it was supposed to say.”
Sunna nodded. “Yeah, like that. Great. I don’t know this town well enough to know stuff like that. Maude, you got a pen? And paper?”