Beige

Rebecca James sipped her coffee as she did every morning as her husband and children got ready for their days. Sugar first in her beige mug which matched the rest of her bland, historic house as the coffee brewed. Greg ran around the kitchen shouting at the kids as if Rebecca was just another installment at the end of the counter.

Two spoon fulls of vanilla creamer after the coffee. Mikayla and Thomas shove each other out the door with Greg yelling for them to hurry not too far behind - tying his tie as he slams the front door.

One sip and the house is silent, just as it has been every day for ten years. A car engine revs to life and tires screech as it pulls out of the driveway and speeds through the quiet suburban neighborhood. Rebecca sighs - the house is safe, sound, and quiet.

She walks from the kitchen, outside to the mailbox, coffee in hand as she does every morning. As she has done every morning for the past ten years. She gets the mail and carries it back into the house under her arm, holding her coffee cup in two hands so they warm up.

Sitting down at the kitchen table to turn on the eight-o’clock news, Rebecca sits down her steaming coffee to flip through the mail. Bill. Bill. Junk. Bill. Junk. For Greg. For Greg. Post card? Rebecca sits baffled staring at the palm trees on a beach with white sand and light blue water under the title Hello From Hawai’i.

Racking her brain, Rebecca can’t think of a friend, family member, or co-worker of Greg’s that went on vacation recently. Shrugging, she assumes it’s her neighbor’s and flips it over. Rebecca gasps as she reads the first words on the card, Rebecca my love. Without a breath, she continues to read,

Rebecca my love,Sept. 2005

I’m sorry I had to leave you so suddenly, but I got a job offer in Hawai’i I couldn’t refuse. I’m not allowed to tell you what it is, but I hope you will forgive me and join me here in this paradise! I will remain faithful to you until you come to Hawai’i, so we can talk - no matter how long it takes. I hope you will forgive me and jump on the next plane to come see me.

I love you - Sam

Below the note is a phone number and a return-address is written on the other half of the postcard. Rebecca sits, staring at the words, reading them again and again as her beige cup of coffee gets cold. She quickly shakes her head to clear her mind and places the postcard on the table.