The Package

It lay on the doorstep of 54 Hulstone Place. Non-descript and brown, the package looked as if it might have been dropped accidentally or tossed aside by a passerby too lazy to find a trash can.

There was no return address, and the edges of the package were worn as if it had had a long and arduous journey. Whatever its history, the package had indeed found its home, for the top of the box contained carefully penned letters identifying its destination:

Podderson Family
54 Hulstone Place
Pittsburgh PA
15219

When Amanda Podderson returned from her shift at the diner, she kicked the package before she noticed it. It slid noisily across the concrete stoop and came to rest with a clunk at the edge of the threshold to the front door. Adjusting her armload of groceries, Amanda peered down at the box, rolled her eyes, and thought, “Not again, George.”

After unloading the groceries and changing, Amanda returned to the front stoop, picked up the package, and put it in the laundry room. George would never find it there, and it’d serve him right, too.

By the time her husband got home, Amanda had forgotten about the package: George was drunk and late. In unplanned unison, George slammed the front door closed, and Amanda slammed their bedroom door shut. Amanda’s slamming was followed by the click of the lock being thrown. She’d be damned if that drunken no-good got into bed with her that night.

George didn’t notice the slamming of either door, nor was he aware of his wife’s banning him from their bedroom. He was ripped and only cared about hitting the sofa squarely before he passed out.

The next morning, George was up and gone before Amanda finished her shower. Had Amanda known this, she’d have skipped practicing the speech she planned to yell at him about his continuing to order things they couldn’t afford.

Thankful in part that he was gone, Amanda went to work and forgot all about the package.

When she got home that evening, she was surprised to find George sitting at the kitchen table. Even more surprising was his fist not being wrapped around a can of beer.

“Why ya home so early George?”

“I went in early, put in my eight, now I’m here.”

Amanda heard the smugness in George’s voice before she saw it hanging on his face.

“Since you’re here. . .”

“Since I am here, I wanna know why you ride me all the time about buying things when you bought that light and had it put in without saying nothing.”

Amanda followed George’s outstretched arm which ended with his pointing finger that was aimed at a light installed in the ceiling over the kitchen table.

“I had nothing to do with that. What’s this about, George?”

George grunted before answering, “That ain’t your light?”

“No, George, that ain’t my light.”

“So, what? We both go off to work, and some fairy comes to our house—puts in a light? What do you take me for?”

“I take you for a no-good drunk, that’s what I take you for.”

“What’d you say?”

“I said, you’re a no-good drunk, George. You forget coming home last night all tied up in a knot?”

George sat up in the chair, drew in a breath, and in a tone as condescending as they come replied, “I had a beer with the boys after a long day. A man deserves a beer with the boys now and again.”

As he spoke, the light the two were fighting about flickered and buzzed.

“There you go George. There’s proof I had nothing to do with that light getting put in. If I’d have had it done, it’d work right. Just admit you bought the damn thing and installed it wrong. And fix it before it burns down this house.”

“I had nothing to do with that light, Amanda, and you know it.”

“Well I’ve never seen it before.”

As Amanda spoke, the light flickered and buzzed again.

“We can fight all night about the light, George, but for now, you need to fix the damn thing.”

“Can’t. I got a meeting with the union boys, and I gotta leave right now.”

More flickering and buzzing.

Amanda gave up on the light and George and headed for the bedroom to change. Over her shoulder, she called out,

“Just make sure you’re quiet when you drag yourself home.”

Her words were punctuated by George’s slamming the front door as he left.

***

“Ma’am, can you tell me what happened?”

“Yes, detective. My husband came home from a meeting. I guess he’d been drinking a bit. I was already in bed, and the next thing I knew, I heard a crash. I called out to him, but he didn’t answer. When I got up to see what was wrong, I found him lying there. That’s when I called.”

Detective Westgrove looked up from his notepad as Amanda Podderson spoke. The out-of-place light that hung above the kitchen table was flickering and buzzing, and it was annoying.

“Ma’am, is there anyone we can call for you?”

“No. No Detective. I have no family other than George.”

“A friend perhaps or a neighbor?”

“You’re very kind, but no. I think I need to be alone right now.”

“Well, if you change your mind, just let one of the officers here know. It’ll take them another thirty minutes or so to wrap things up, and then you’ll have your house to yourself.”

Amanda nodded her head at the detective.

“And Mrs. Podderson, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you detective, you’re very kind. I really don’t know what I’ll do without my George.”

As Amanda Podderson spoke, the light that had arrived in a travel-worn package flickered and buzzed its response.