Puzzzle

The package arrived on her doorstep sometime in the night, and was waiting on the step when she opened the door to take Taco, her late husband’s tiny dog, out for a walk. It was wrapped in brown paper, and bore her first name, Amelia. No last name. And no return address.

Puzzled, she brought the package into the house, placing it on the kitchen table while she continued with Taco’s walk. As they walked, she wondered where the package had come from, and who sent it to her. And how did it get to her, with only her first name on it for address? It must have been brought by someone who knew her. A gift from a friend, perhaps.

When she and Taco returned home, she turned her attention to the package. It bothered her, this mysterious package. She felt, not excitement as she contemplated opening it, but rather trepidation. It felt dangerous, somehow.

She laughed at herself and her dramatic imaginings, and set to opening the package. Within the brown paper was a plain brown box, square, about 6” to a side. No label. No picture. Tightly sealed. She shook it gently, and heard a soft rattle, as of small pieces being shaken around. Puzzle pieces?

She got the kitchen scissors and sliced the tape that held the box closed. She took a deep breath to steady herself from the silly nervousness she was feeling, and lifted the lid of the box.

It was a jigsaw puzzle. At a glance, she estimated that it was probably about 1,000 pieces, like the puzzles she and Marvin, her late husband, used to enjoy completing together. She searched through the bright pieces, looking for a picture of what the finished puzzle would look like. But there was no picture.

“How odd,” she said to herself. “No picture? There’s always a picture! How am I supposed to know what I’m making?”

She thought about it for a moment, running her fingers through the brightly colored pieces. “This is silly!” she pronounced. “I’m not going to try to do a puzzle blind, with no idea what it’s supposed to look like!” And she closed up the box, set it on the coffee table in the living room, and went about the day’s chores.

She did some laundry, carefully folding away the clean clothes. There were a few of Marvin’s things in the load. She clasped his favorite sweater to her heart, tears coming to her eyes. She missed him so much! She knew that they were both old - Marvin had just celebrated his 93rd birthday not long before he died - but his death had still been an unexpected shock. A short illness, and he was gone. Just like that. She sighed and set his sweater aside.

She skipped lunch - she hadn’t had much of an appetite since Marvin died - and went out to pick up Chinese for her dinner. Cooking for one was just too much of a bother. Returning home, she took the little white boxes out of the bag and filled her plate. It had cooled some, so she slipped the plate into the microwave to reheat. Taking it out with a potholder, she turned to place it on the kitchen table.

There, in the middle of the kitchen table, was the mysterious puzzle! Startled, she took a step back, resting the hot plate on the counter. “What on Earth?” she thought. “I’m sure I put that on the coffee table!” After a moment, she shook her head. “Getting forgetful, old girl,” she told herself. She picked up the box and brought it into the living room, setting it on the coffee table. Then, feeling a little silly, she stacked a book on top of it. “That’ll hold you!” she said jokingly.

She returned to the kitchen and ate her dinner, then returned to the living room to sit on the couch. The puzzle box was right where she’d left it. Laughing at herself, she turned on the TV and watched one of her favorite shows. After the news at 11, she turned off the TV, took Taco out for one more walk, then went to bed, the little dog sleeping at her feet.

She slept fitfully, uneasy about the mysterious package, and was still tired when Taco woke her at 7 the next day. She threw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt and took the dog out. While she was out, she stopped to pick up a coffee from Dunkin’.

Juggling the dog’s leash and the coffee, she unlocked the door and followed the dog back inside. She refilled his water dish, then went to sit at the kitchen table to finish her coffee.

In the middle of the kitchen table was the puzzle box. She stared fearfully at it, then looked all around the room. “Hello?” she called. “Is someone here?” No answer.

She went to the junk drawer and pulled out a hammer and a flashlight. She looked through every room of the small apartment, hammer in one hand, flashlight in the other, checking that the windows and doors were all locked. She checked upstairs and down, and even in the small attic space. Nothing.

She returned to the kitchen, eying the small box on the table. “I must have forgotten that I moved it,” she said aloud. “That’s all.”

She picked up the puzzle box and returned to the living room with it. She opened the box and stirred the pieces with her finger. Then, with a shake of her head, she fetched the puzzle-board that she and Marvin had always used to work on jigsaw puzzles together. She set it up on the coffee table, dumped out the puzzle pieces, and got started putting it together.

At first, she had trouble getting started. It was hard, without a picture to go by. But edge pieces are edge pieces, and she started with them, as she usually did. After about an hour, she had most of the edges put together. It was hard to tell, but it looked to her like a room of some kind, maybe a living room or kitchen in an apartment. Wood floor, a piece of a red-and-blue rug; bookshelves; cream colored walls. She felt better, more settled, now that she had gotten started putting together the mysterious puzzle.

She took Taco out for his evening walk, then got ready for bed. She slept a little better than she had the previous night, but still felt a bit on edge.

In the morning, she rushed through her usual morning routine so she could get back to the puzzle. It seemed to pull at her, and she found it hard to keep her mind on anything else. It was a relief when she settled down to work on it.

The picture was beginning to form now. It was definitely a living room. In fact - she thought wonderingly - it looked a lot like this living room. The same floor. The same rug. The same furniture. “Weird,” she thought. Maybe it was one of those picture puzzles, the ones that you can have made from a photograph you’ve taken.

By the time she was ready for bed that night, the outline was beginning to really take shape. There was the old rocking chair that Marvin had loved, tucked away under the light by the bookshelf. In fact, she could even see the beginnings of a person in the chair. It looked like Marvin, wearing his favorite sweater. “I must be really losing it,” she thought. “I miss him so much, it’s like I’m wishing him into existence, here in this puzzle!” She laughed (a little nervously) at her fancy, and went to bed.

After another restless night, she took her morning coffee into the living room, where she sat on the couch before the puzzle. She looked at it, sipping the coffee. Then put the coffee cup down suddenly, with a click. The figure sitting in the rocking chair was complete now! Not only that, but it was definitely Marvin! She stared at it, wide-eyed. Blinked. Looked again.

She stood abruptly, grabbing her coffee cup and scurrying into the kitchen. “You’re imagining things!” she told herself firmly. “Or - sleep-walking?” Perhaps she had gotten up in the middle of the night, gone into the living room, and worked on the puzzle? She sipped her coffee, mulling it over. Well, she had been sleeping poorly, and had been unusually tired in the mornings. She supposed it was possible…

Setting her coffee cup down on the counter, she got Taco’s leash and hooked him up for his walk. Taking one more look at the puzzle - that really was Marvin, no doubt about it - she led the little dog out the door.

When they returned, she checked the puzzle again. Same as it had looked when she left to walk the dog. She heaved a sigh of relief, then laughed at herself for it. “Crazy old woman!” she said, shaking her head.

She worked on the puzzle more that night. She finished the bookcases, and part of the ceiling. The wall unit that held the TV. The puzzle was so detailed! The TV even showed the name of her favorite show! By the time she went to bed, the puzzle was over half done, right down to the dog bed at Marvin’s side. She had begun the couch, and she could see that the figure sitting on the couch was going to turn out to be herself. She took a good, long look at the puzzle before she turned out the light and went off to bed.

In the morning, she awoke tired again. And cold. Taco, who always slept at her feet, wasn’t there. “Oh, dear,” she thought, “I probably overslept, and he’s waiting at the door to go out.” She called to him, “Taco! Oh, I’m so sorry, baby, we’ll get right out for your walk.” But when she walked out into the living room, Taco wasn’t there. “Taco?” she called. Now, where had that dog gotten to? “Maybe he managed to open the door?” She slipped past the coffee table, and the puzzle board, to check the front door.

Then stopped. And stared. There - in his bed, in the puzzle, right beside Marvin’s rocking chair - was Taco.

Her knees collapsed, and she sank down on the couch. She closed her eyes and counted to ten, then opened them again to peek at the puzzle. Surely not… But there was no doubt about it. Taco had become part of the puzzle. In the picture, Marvin’s hand reached down to pet him. The dog’s tongue lolled out in his silly dog-grin. And Marvin’s eyes were locked on the couch beside the rocking chair.

With shaking fingers, she completed the puzzle. The couch. The blanket that she always wrapped herself in. Her fluffy red robe. Her hand, bearing her wedding ring, reaching towards Marvin. Her face, lips soft in a loving smile, was the last piece.

Everything went dark, then blindingly bright. She heard his voice.

“Finally you’re here! I’ve missed you so much.”