Letters Found In A Shoebox

Who Saved The Letters, Frank? Donna? Marian?

Michael Sedano

I hoped the garage sale sea chest would yield treasure and as the cut-off wheel made short work of the cheap steel hasp, my hopes rose. 

I pried open the rusty-hinged top, then my hopes fell. Layer upon layer of Reader's Digest Condensed Books from the 1950s. At the bottom lay three postage stamp albums and a crushed cardboard shoebox filled with a confetti of postage stamps and a bundle of old letters.

April 14, 1944

Dear Marian,

I hope this letter finds you well and happy. I know you have your reasons for leaving in the middle of the night, and not for a minute do I believe the ugly rumors about Salinas. And Bakersfield. But I am glad you’re out of that place, those places, and are settling down with the church lady. That’s a safe place for you, especially the no-visitors-upstairs part. No sense putting temptation in your way again. ha ha.

Here is a photo of us Frank snapped at the lake on Ditch Day. Hard to believe it’s been almost a year we graduated good old Montpelier High. Good times with good friends. I’ll never forget how we laughed when you and Frank got lost. Ha ha.

 

Love,

Donna

 

 

September 11, 1944

Dear Frank,

 

After I left Bakersfield, I found a clean place to live in Fresno and ever since then I’ve kept myself busy as a bee typing down at the Chamber of Commerce and going to night school. 

Every d..d night, my landlady Mrs. Felicia, plays the virginal. Don’t laugh, that’s a musical instrument. It’s all church music and I get so I can’t think and I have to go for a walk and a refreshment. So that’s why this letter comes after so long. I know you understand.

 

The men at the office are so nice. I never have to pay for my lunch and my boss winks an eye when I order an extra glass of wine or two. The members are all business owners and let me tell you, they know their way around town. I never thought Fresno would have so many swell clubs!!

 

I hope to hear from you soon, dear Frank. I thought Montpelier was hot in the summer. Fresno heat is worse. The only way to keep from suffocating is I lie around my room with the windows open and no clothes on. Tee hee, I should not have said that.

 

With all my love,

Marian

 

P.S. Here I am on a penthouse rooftop. Not mine, this one is in Mexico City. A business trip.

no date

My Dear Marian,

 

My heart stopped when I got your letter at work. It stopped with delight to know you still think of me after what happened, with your mother, and all the unpleasantness—to say the least.

Thank you for that dream. Some call it a photograph. Oh, for x-ray eyes! 

 

Your Mom blurted out you’d found work, or something, in Salinas. How long did you stay in Bakersfield? I am sorry about the Fresno heat. If I could, I would kneel at your knees with a fan to cool you. Of course I can only imagine how that must be, all that penetrating heat. Again, thank you for that picture.

 

Marian, I do miss you. You know I wish you all the best, you and your adventuresome spirit. Most of all, I remember how you always said, “Never look back, you’ll miss the good times coming up!” Marian, here’s to good times coming up. 

 

We are both well. Donna planted French lilacs against the back wall and they are covered with aphids. Duty calls. I will post this tomorrow from work. 

 

My deepest affection,

Frank

 

 

November 11, 1947

Dear Marian,

 

Happy Thanksgiving to you. I heard from your mother you’d found a place of your own, still in Fresno. And you’ve got yourself a new beau! Michele was so beside herself bragging on you, that she forgot to give Frank the ojo like usual. (That thing between Michele and Frank was all a misunderstanding and I won’t allow that to get in the way of a nice visit with my best friend’s mother. Besides, it was ages ago.)

 

Will you be cooking this year? Your slow baked camotes were always the hit at our table. We missed you last year, the invitation came back. ??? 

I hope you’re settled once and for all in Fresno, the new job will make a big difference. Just be careful, you know what I mean.

 

Well, last year we all ate an extra piece of pie in your honor. And we’ll do so again this year, now that you’re moved into the penthouse. My, the bank must be the place to be!

 

Hoping to hear from you for the holidays. All the juicy details.

 

Love,

Donna

 

 

November 22, 1947

Dear Frank,

 

Well, you’re talking to the Office Manager and Special Assistant for Membership at Fresno Farmer’s Bank. It all came out of nowhere after the trip to Mexico City.

 

My new friend, Mr. Aram Ohanian, the alfalfa king of north county, arranged it. I have me a special break on rent in a building he owns. Frank, don’t be mad at me. I don’t have to do anything bad for all this. I do enjoy Mr. Ohanian’s friends, they’re really loads of fun. Poop poop a doop. Guess whose penthouse—did I say penthouse?--has maid service?

 

Frank, the afternoon sun shines through my penthouse windows and I can see as far as the edge of the world. I love to stand there with no clothes on at all and feel the sunlight warm warm spreading warm across my breasts and down to my tummy and across my thighs. Mmm, wish you were here. We could get lost again. Ha ha.

 

Everlasting love,

Your Marian

 

 

December 3, 1947

Dear Frank,

 

I am so sorry. I put the wrong letter in Donna’s envelope. I did not mean for her to even know I was writing to you. That’s why I sent them to the office. 

 

I hope you can work things out.

 

Deeply regretful,

Marian

 

 

November 29, 1947

Dear Marian,

Greetings from… (on back, Me and My Man). 

 

You are a shameless hussy. There. I bet you thought I’d be mad when I got your billet-doux, to Frank, inside the envelope you sent, to me. Happy thanksgiving. ha ha.

Please tell me you didn’t send mine to him? I hope you did not talk about you-know-who in that letter, if you sent it to Frank instead of me. 

Oh, I am not so worked up about this. I enclose your letter here, send it to him if you wish. 

 

Marian, we have known one another, you me and Frank, since we were children on the same block. I know you, remember? I was right next to you when you became the most popular girl in town. Do you still swim topless? I hope that afternoon sun gives you sunburned nipples. Ha ha.

 

Marian, do this one thing for me? 

 

Tell Frank to pay attention to me, now and again. I am the same woman he married. We used to have fun, Marian. Now all Frank does is work all the time or go off fishing by himself. What is it I don’t have but he found in you? Was it only one time? Does Michele know?

Marian, this has always been your way. I hope you are enjoying your career of other women’s men.

 

I will stop now before I say something I do not mean.

 

Coldly, but with forgiveness,

Donna

P.S. Frank and Michele are on speaking terms again. Your mother can be such a pill. 

A sheet of yellow legal pad paper was folded around a barely scannable photograph of a woman. Nothing written on the back.  I restored the image as well as possible. 

In the handwritten meditation, I recognize the name "Michele," Donna's mother. I figure this somehow belongs to the correspondence. 

As for the woman in the photograph, I shall let her be her own mystery  unless I uncover more letters in my garage sale loot.