Forwarding Address...

"Hey, you got an interesting piece of mail today."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

He shuffled through the stack of cards, "Look, it's addressed to you with your maiden name. Maiden name. Is that right? I mean, I know it's what we've always said, but is there some new term for it? Maiden name seems like super sexist now that I'm saying it out loud. Like maybe your name before you changed it when you got married name? But that's really long. How about your old name, yeah, it's addressed to your old name."

"One you might be overthinking it, but old name seems like a safe choice. And two, that's really odd. Why would someone have my old name? I've had our last name for twenty years."

"I don't know but here, look at it, that's not the only odd thing."

She took the card from him. Not only was it addressed to her with her old name but there was a yellow forwarding sticker on it from their last address.

"I thought they didn't forward mail after a certain amount of time. We've been in this place for five years now. There is no way it should have been forwarded."

He took the card from her again, "It wasn't forwarded. See? This is one of those stickers they put on it when they send the mail back to the sender. You get like six months where they will forward stuff, then a year, I think, where they will return it to the sender with your new address on it. Then that's it. Whoever sent this just stuck this on the letter and used it for the address to mail it this time. And I don't think it's the first time, that's really thick. See?"

She took the card back. The address sticker was thick. She peeled a corner of the sticker up and saw another one below it. She kept peeling and there were 10 stickers all together. She finally got down to the original address and it was her dorm. This card had been sent and resent since she was in college.

"That's my college address."

"You had an actual street address in college? We only had PO Boxes."

"Technically we had PO Boxes as well, but to vote you needed a physical address. The college was trying to get a bond measure passed and wanted all of us to vote so while they fought the arbitrary address rule in court they found a way to get us all street addresses. The apartment number? That's my PO Box number."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah, I mean usually the mail got delivered right on time."

"No, I mean did getting you all registered to vote to pass the bond work?"

"You know, I don't remember. I remember the fights about it. That we would all be voting for something that benefitted us but that we most likely wouldn't be on the hook to pay for. But I don't remember if it actually passed or not."

"Did you vote for it?"

"I didn't register. I stayed registered at my parent's address. I knew that's where I was moving back to and I thought it made more sense to vote there. Though I did appreciate the college figuring out how to make their addresses work for anyone who did want to vote there. I mean, we lived in that city for over half of the year, that really is where we should have voted during that stretch."

"I can see it both ways. Interesting. Now I want to look up bond measures from when you were in college to see if it passed."

"Of course you do."

"So..."

"So what?"

"Are you just going to hold it all day or are you going to open it?"

"I'm not. I mean I don't think I am. I'll think about it."

"What? Aren't you super curious about it? It's time capsule. Who sent it? Why did they just keep recycling the same envelope over and over? How did it never catch up to you after all these years. I mean, we've had the same address more than two years in a row a few times."

"I know it seems weird but it almost feels like I would be opening someone else's mail."

"But it's not. It's yours."

"Yeah, no. It's not. That's not me. Not anymore. It hasn't been in a long time. That girl and I share some history but I'm not her. Look, I'll think about it. Maybe I'll change my mind."

"You're killing me, Smalls."

"Sorry. Why don't you go research bond issues and at least you'll have that answer?"

"Fine. I know a brush off when I hear one."

She kissed him and he left to go chase old voting results online. She put the card on the kitchen counter and subconsciously wiped her hands on her pants. She knew who it was from, of course she knew. She recognized the hand writing as soon as she got the stickers all off.

She could hear her mother's voice in her head, "I know I shouldn't say anything but I'm glad you and that Michael's boy broke up. I just, I'm just glad."

But they hadn't broken up. Not officially. They had just stopped seeing each other when she went away to school and he joined the Army, but neither of them had ever said the words. As he reminded her senior year when he showed up on campus one night. Technically he was still her boyfriend, he had laughed. She had laughed too. It was funny, and they both knew it wasn't really true. They had gone out for pizza and caught up on what had been happening in each other's lives. It had been a lovely evening and reminded her of what a sweet guy he could be, most of the time. Even if her mother didn't think most of the time was enough of the time.

He walked her back to her dorm and kissed her cheek. Then leaned in and whispered in her ear, "I'll always know how to find you. Always."

She shivered thinking about it.

There were times she could almost convince herself it was supposed to be supportive and sweet. If she didn't think about the times he would just show up places when they were dating. Watching her from across the street when she was at track practice. Dropping by her afterschool job on a day she hadn't been scheduled to work, but had been called in unexpectedly. Thinking about the times she was sure she saw him someplace she hadn't expected him to be and when she'd ask him why he had been there he'd deny he had been. If she just didn't think about why her mother had been relieved when they stopped seeing each other. How her father had actually called the Army recruiter to verify that he had left for basic training when he said he was going. Then she could convince herself it had been sweet.

He would always know where she was. Always be there for her. It could have been sweet.

If she didn't think too hard about it. Didn't think about how he would have had to wait almost a year after she moved each time to mail this card. Not send it too soon so it was forwarded, not wait too long where it wasn't returned with the new address. And he had done it over and over again.

He always knew how to find her.

And now he wanted her to know he had.