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“I can’t go anywhere. I’m working on a novel.”
“Are you? How much have you completed?”
She looked down at her blank screen and typed, “Once upon a time….”
“I have a few words.”
“Liar.” She could almost see Meg roll her eyes. “‘Once upon a time’ doesn’t count.”
“Yes, it does. Every fairytale starts with it.”
“You don’t write fairytales; you pen romance.”
“Same thing.”
“He did a number on you.”
“Geez, Meg, what guy takes you to the swankiest restaurant in town to tell you he’s leaving you?”
“It happened inLegally Blonde.”
She couldn’t argue. Her life had mimicked art right down to Daniel’s words, “Oh, you thought I was going to propose? How sweet.”
“I’m never falling in love again.”
“Not every man is a Daniel. You can’t punish the whole of the male species because the one you had was a douchebag. Get back on that horse, sweetie.”
“I don’t know. But you’re correct about one thing. I can’t keep doing the same things and expect a different outcome.”
“So do something completely out of character. Get a new apartment or come to Miami and live with me.”
She thought about the hustle and bustle of Miami. “Similar problems, different city. Bigger bugs and gators. No thanks. Look, I’m turning off my lights and closing the blinds. Catsby is racing by me to lay claim to my pillow. Thanks for always having my back. I love you.”
She hung up and looked at the wall of memories. Meg was right. It was time to purge the past. She dragged over the trashcan and tossed every picture with Dan in it. He was no longer a part of her life and had no business in her home.
If she were being honest, it wasn’t him that she missed. It was this feeling of belonging to someone or something.
A soft warble came from her room. Catsby was calling.
“I’m coming.”
She got ready for bed and pushed her cat from her pillow before crawling under the covers. When she closed her eyes, she said a silent prayer. “Please, give me a sign. Show me what I’m supposed to do next.”
With that, she drifted to sleep, hoping tomorrow would bring her the answers she desperately needed.
* * *
She awoke the following day,her conversation with Meg and the whispered devotion still fresh in her mind. Her mail slot opened, and a pile of papers hit the ground. Her eyes landed on a tattered pink envelope. The return address was from a B. Bennett, and the name immediately struck a chord in her memory. Brandy Bennett had been her pen pal when she was in seventh grade. They had written to each other for years, sharing stories of their lives and dreams for the future. But, like so many childhood friendships, they had lost touch.
Curiosity piqued, Amanda examined the envelope more closely, noticing the numerous forwarding stickers layered on top of one another. She wondered why it had taken so long to reach her.
Settling on the sofa, she peeled the labels away, revealing that it had been forwarded several times. She had moved around a lot after meeting Daniel until they had settled in Chicago a year ago.
She opened the tattered envelope, pulling out several neatly folded pages. The handwriting was elegant, and as she began reading, she discovered it was from Bea Bennett, Brandy’s mother.
Dear Amanda,
I hope this letter finds you well, though I know it has been years since you last corresponded with my daughter, Brandy. My name is Bea Bennett, and I am Brandy’s mother. I wanted to take the time to reach out to you and express my sincere thanks for the kindness you shared with Brandy during your time as pen pals.
