Bliss

4 - Ingrid

Marta's office is small, and of course, identical to all the other offices. Everything is soaked in a nice cream color. All Marta needs is a desk, two chairs, a lamp, and a couple of filing cabinets. She orders me to have a seat, and, willingly, I do. Marta's tone is serious, and I know it's either I'm in trouble, or . . . I don't know. I always follow the rules, show up on time, and do extra help. Maybe Marta wants to congratulate me. No, it couldn't possibly be that. I remember her words "I have a very serious matter to discuss." What would she want to talk to me about?

Marta interrupts my thoughts. "Ingrid." She licks her cracked lips. I can feel myself tense up, and my back straighten from an arch to a ruler. "Ever since you have turned eighteen, and been in the mail department, you have been of my best workers."

"I am?" I ask, biting the corner of my lip nervously. I never doubted myself, but I've only worked in the mail department for a few months, and there are so much more people with experience. I have to admit though, I am very consistent.

"Indeed," Marta continues. "As everyone knows, the soldiers are being stationed today. Who knows how long they'll be staying, and they'll have mail, too. You probably are already aware that certain people are being picked to help deliver and work with said soldiers' mail and . . ." I lock my knees in fear. She's choosing me? No, I can't jump to conclusions. "If we mess up the mailing, it will be very disrespectful to them, and I must know I can trust the workers who are in charge of the soldiers' mailing and delivering." Marta pauses. "And I trust you, Ingrid. You are perfect for the job."

"I am?" I repeat. I didn't know Marta was so keen on me. Me? A mailer for the soldiers? Is it even allowed? "Is it okay for a woman to deliver the mail to them--"

"Yes, it is perfectly okay if it's a government issued job, like ours," says Marta. She sighs, and leans over the desk a little. "I know you are a strong, responsible young woman, and you can handle the job. You've never created problems before. You've, in fact, solved them." I can't just refuse this. She's asking me even though I have no choice to resist at all. It's quite ridiculous.

"So you'll do it then?" she asks, leaning back in satisfaction, knowing I'll say yes. I stare at the desk in front of me, thinking. A promotion to mail to the soldiers?

"Of course, I'll do it," I say, trying to sound excited. I manage a fake smile. "I'd like to." Marta returns an uneasy smile.

"Excellent! Thank you, Ingrid," she beams, standing up. I do too, the chair screeches against the floor when I stand up. "Go to room 5. That's the special room we've reserved for the soldier's' mail." I nod, even though I already knew that. I thank her, and leave the room. I sigh when I walk out the door. This cannot be happening.

I've never been in real contact with a soldier, and now I'll have to go to their houses and deliver mail to them. All by myself. Let alone, I've never really been in contact with boys--er, men in general. It's not allowed unless you have your marriage papers. Which I don't, and I won't probably anytime soon.

I walk past the lobby; I have change into my uniform. People are passing by me as I quickly go into the girls' locker room. No one's in there, so I change comfortably. The uniform isn't much; just a navy blue shirt that says 'mail department' in the corner and khaki pants with whatever shoes of your choice. I choose sneakers. When I get into room 5, I look around. There is little staff in the room. A girl with short, dark brown hair comes up to me. She has pale skin, sharp cheekbones, and red lips. Her eyes are dark, and they match the color of her hair.

"You must be Ingrid Bertaud," says the girl, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Brenna Smith."

I nod. "It's nice to meet you, Brenna. What will I do today?"