Who delivered the envelope?
|I study his face. For the first time, I can’t read it. I can’t work out what he’s thinking, he looks happy on the outside, but something else is going on inside.
He continues to talk to the security guard. His arm around my waist, hand sat securely on my hip. There was a time I could have just stayed like this forever, but now all I want to do is leave his embrace. The security guard, Tom, stops the conversation and turns to me, he hands me an envelope.
“A courier left this for you today” I examine it. It’s a plain A4 sized brown envelope with my name written on the front in red ink, no address, no stamp and no return address. I feel it, trying to work out what’s inside.
“Did they leave a name?” Tom looks at a piece of paper on his desk.
“No, they just came in, said they had a letter and left”
Tom’s been at this job for longer than me, he’s there every day with a smile and usually a riddle for me to figure out. The only time I work with him is when someone’s acting up and on occasion, I coordinate with him when we have events here.
He’s kind and always defuses a situation without having to raise a hand, he’s intimidating to look at. His height makes his muscles appear more powerful, domineering. He has to wear a suit to look presentable, company policy, but it does little to mask the protruding muscles. I turn to jack
“Do you mind if I take this upstairs?…” I watch him think it over, I need to sound casual like I’m not trying to hide anything. I don’t like not knowing what’s in the envelope.
“I don’t want to bring work home.”
“Sure, don’t be too long” he winks and releases his grip from around my waist. He’s up to something.
I walk as steady as possible towards the elevator, as I turn round the corner, knowing there will be no eyes on me, I take a deep breath and start to open the envelope. I press the elevator button repeatedly, my anxiety is starting to show. I step inside pressing the button for the top floor. My gaze goes back to the brown paper I have in my hand. I reach in and pull out a piece of card, I feel more of the same things amongst it.
It’s like the world goes into slow motion when I see what I have in my hand. It’s a photo of me and Henry at the beach in the Hamptons. The picture has writing on the back in red ink. ‘someone’s being a naughty girl’.
I pull out more of the contents of the envelope, there are countless other photos. The elevator dings, tears are welling in my eyes, I scramble to put the photos back in the envelope, as the doors start to open I hide the envelope from sight. I brush myself down and swipe away the tears that have found their way onto my cheeks, the doors are open and Henry’s standing on the other side.