Mailbox #36

The wind blew the yellow stained curtains, letting in spots of sunlight into the small, hazily lit, loft. She rolled over on her floor-ridden mattress to face the broken window. The children across the street had sent a baseball through it while waiting for the bus a few days ago. She was thankful that it was summer, giving her more time to find the money to pay for the expenses before it became too cold. The light danced across her sheets as it created a rainbow-reflected spectacle. She sighed, sitting up, stretching, and with hesitation, the girl glanced around her apartment. Clothes were thrown around the room, the only furniture spotted was a mattress, a small table, a lamp, and she could still hear the water tap down from the leaky faucet in the bathroom. A younger woman she was, on her own, with nothing to her name but somehow still found the courage to carry on every day. A light yawn woke her up slightly as she rose out of bed and into the kitchen for a glass of water. The kitchen, not spaced out further than a few feet in an open square shape, gave her a sense of accomplishment. She didn't have much, but it was hers. She looked out her perch of a window onto the bright Manhattan streets. Children were running up the street playing hopscotch or jump rope while parents chatted on building steps about the neighborhood gossip. The mailman waved at her from down below, and she gave a kind smile in return. Stepping towards the door, she slipped on her shoes and pulled on a sweatshirt over her messy hair. She grabbed the doorknob to pull but tripped over a small object on the floor. Out of slight frustration, she closed her eyes and hung her head low expecting much worse than the little black book she found lying between her feet. With an inquisitive look on her face, the girl bent down to pick it up. She rubbed her hand over the cover and turned it over a couple of times. It couldn’t have been bigger than a small notepad like the ones she found at the bodega down the street. “Peculiar, “ she whispered to herself. Gently, she opened the book to the first page. It read:

Darling (or as I shall call you now),

Onward, your journey begins

Now you will find something strange

Treasure it with your life

Be on guard of those watching

Especially the ones you expect the least

Apparently, they are disguised

Fragile steps you must take

Round the edges

And pay our dues

In time I will find you

Darling

It was quite a strange way to write a letter she thought to herself. The sentences were fragments and didn’t make sense, even if read altogether. She supposed it a poem: a gift left by a dear friend. Or a silly joke planted by the neighborhood teens. Either way, she ignored the little black book, half-heartedly throwing it on the counter, grabbing her keys off the walls hook, and making her way out her door as she had originally intended.

“Goodmorning Darling.” Ms. Rose called from the floor down.

A woman of few words, Darling waved and offered a smile to the elderly women. In passing, she always resorted to a smile which caused her to question how her neighbors still kindly regarded her despite hardly knowing her. Brushing off the thought, she continued down the stairs, rounding corner after corner until on the main floor. Approaching the mailroom, she fumbled with her key shakily unlocking box #36. She pulled out her mail and closed the box, beginning to filter through the bills and random coupons. A heavy letter caught her attention, one with no return address, or even her address for that matter. Only the word “Darling” in old English cursive graced the front and a red wax seal on the back adorning the letters “DBA”. The girl looked around, curious who could have left the letter without an address or having access to her box, but unfortunately, no one was around. Quickly she rushed up the stairs and back to her apartment. Out of fear, or maybe a feeling she was unfamiliar with, Darling shut and locked her door. Carefully she broke the seal and opened the letter. With hesitation, she glanced at the envelope. All that was found was cash and a key hanging on a chain. She pulled the cash out, counting the bills over and over in astonishment.

“$20,000,” she sighed with disbelief. Her head was spinning. Where had the money come from? Who had given it to her? She pulled out the key and turned it over in her hand. It had the same letters as the ones on the wax seal. Her mind went immediately to the note in the little black book. It had said she would find something strange and she could not think of anything stranger than a mysterious envelope with money lying in her locked mailbox. Scrambling for the notebook off the counter, she flipped it open again and read the note over and over until the words started to mingle together. Darling’s eyes scanned the page as she suddenly caught something. The sentences weren’t as half haphazardly placed as she had originally thought, but the first letter of each line spelled out something: don’t be afraid. And then it clicked in her mind, it was the letters on the key: DBA= Don’t Be Afraid. But what could it all mean? The wind blew through the window, flipping the pages in the book and landing it on an almost blank page with nothing but a street address.

184 Mulberry Lane.

Darling pulled out her phone and entered the address into the GPS. It was only a few blocks away, certainly within walking distance. The mysteriousness of the day almost prevented her from changing into something that would allow her to blend her, walking out the door, and heading immediately to that address. But it didn’t. For whatever reason, one we’ll probably never know, she felt with every part of her that she needed to take that money, that key, and go wherever the mystery was leading her.

“Where are you off to in such a rush dear?” Ms. Rose was standing in her apartment doorway.

“Just off to get some groceries.” Darling charmed.

“I’m not one to poke into other’s business dear, but I’m pretty sure you just got your groceries last night. Now didn’t you?” The tone of her voice took Darling back. It almost frightened her.

“Well yes… but I realized this morning I had forgotten something.” She spoke quickly, eager to leave the conversation. “I really must get going.”

“I don’t know what they’ve told you, but it’s all lies. Why don’t you come to my apartment and we can chat?” She replied, taking a step closer to Darling.

All she could do was shake her head and turn to leave but bumped into an intimidating man in all black who was at least a foot taller than her. Nothing could have prepared Darling for this. She had to think quick, could she get around him?

“Don’t resist it, Darling, just hand it over to me and everything will be alright.” Ms. Rose invited. Darling did all she could think of. She stepped on the man’s foot as hard as she could and darted around him, running down the stairs as fast as she could.

“Get her! Whatever you have to do, just get her!” She could hear Ms. Rose yelling after her. She didn’t dare turn back to see if that man was following her. Running down the street, Darling was met with angry remarks as she bumped into numerous people. Her size was an advantage to her, allowing her to easily hide in between people and she pulled her hood over her head. She didn’t stop until she was certain she had gained some distance from him and slipped into an alley. Leaning against the wall and placing her hands on her knees, she tried desperately to catch her breath. Living in the city never required her to run so she was sure it was the adrenaline that had kept her going. Making sure she was clear, Darling entered the street again and continued on the way to her destination.

Her eyes darted up and down the building. She had arrived. It was now that she wished she had brought the little black book with her, seeing as how the complex was completely abandoned. Cautiously, she skipped up the stairs and stood in front of the rusted red door. As she looked closely, she realized that in a very light paint were the letters: DBA. At least now she knew she was in the right place. Pulling the key out from under her sweatshirt, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. Darling quietly shut the door behind her and walked further inside. It was a dimly lit room with high vaulted ceilings, practically empty. The windows were covered with an old plastic tarp and every inch of the room was coated with a thick layer of dust which made her cough. The room was grey, and dull. It was a strange sight for a New York building. There were no floors, no stairs, but one long passageway to the sky. Darling spun in circles around the room, looking high up to the ceiling. Her eyes landed on a safe in the middle of the room. It was large and skinny, one you’d suppose would keep guns. Stepping closer, she realized it was cracked open. She pulled the door open, seeing a note on the inside.

“Pay our dues.”

It had been written in the little black book, she remembered. There was nothing else in the safe, no more clues. With nothing else to assume, Darling took the envelope she had folded in her back pocket, with the money inside, and tossed it into the safe. She closed the door and sighed, silently hoping there would be more to the journey.

“Found you.” A brooding voice called out from behind her and Darling let out a wretched scream as a bullet found its way into her skin. Time seemed to slow down as she fell to the ground and lost all senses. She knew that she heard other screams, more people entered the once abandoned building, but she couldn’t distinguish what was real from what was in her head. She stared at the ceiling, realizing it was an open skylight and the brightness filled her eyes until they slowly fluttered shut.

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“You can’t keep doing this.” She could hear the voices, but they sounded distant.

“It’s fine. A minor injury and she’ll never know what happened.” It was a conversation she knew she shouldn’t be listening to.

“She was an innocent girl!” A voice begged.

“And she survived!” The other combatted and she heard rushed and heavy footsteps.

“I’m sorry Darling.” The first voice whispered to her and then she knew they were gone.

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Darling stepped into her apartment and sighed. Same old mattress, same old kitchen, same old leaky faucet. She rubbed her side and closed her eyes, her mind flooded with an instant replay of the moment in the abandoned building. No one would tell her anything, she had no real concept of what had happened. All she knew was that she was ok and she had done what she had needed to once she saw the flowers in her hospital room with the note:

“Thank you. You've finished the journey.”

She stepped into the kitchen and peered out the window, remembering the morning where it all started. She was filled with sorrow, a crushing sense of guilt. Or so I suppose. I only know what I see, and the broken window allows for a great view in.