The Silent Sister

1.

June 2013
Riley

I'd never expected to lose nearly everyone I love by the time I was twenty-five. I felt the grief rise again as I parked in front of the small, nondescript post office in Pollocksville.  The three-hour drive from my apartment in Durham had seemed more like six as I made a mental list of all the things I needed to do once I reached New Bern, and that list segued into thinking of how alone I felt.  But I didn't have time to dwell on my sadness.
The first thing I had to do was stop at this post office,  ten miles outside of New Bern.  I'd get that out of the way and cross one thing off my list.  Digging the flimsy white postcard from my purse, I went inside the building.  I was the only customer,  and my tennis shoes squeaked on the floor as I walked up to the counter where a clerk waited for me.  With her dark skin and perfect cornrows,  she reminded me of my friend Sherie,  so I liked her instantly.

"How can I help you?" she asked.
I handed her the postcard. " I'm confused about this card, " I said.  " My father died a month ago. I've been getting his mail at my address I'm Durham and this card came and -----"
"We send these out when someone hasn't paid their bill for their post office box, "  she said,  looking at the card. "it's a warning. They don't pay it in two months,  we close the box and change the lock."
" Well I understand that, but see"--- I turned the card over----" this isn't my father's name. I don't know who Fred Marcus is.  My father was Frank McPherson, so I think this came to me by mistake. I don't even think my father had a post office box. I didn't know why he would.  Especially not in Pollocksville when he lives--- lived---- in New Bern." it would take me a long time to learn to speak about my father in the past tense.
"Let me cheek. " She disappeared into the rear of the building and came back a moment later holding a thin purple envelope and a white index-type card.  "This is the only thing in the box", she said,  handing the envelope to me "Addressed to Fred Marcus. I checked the records and the box is assigned to the name at this street address." She held the index card out to me. The signature did look like my father's handwriting, but his handwriting was unique.  And besides it wasn't his name "That's the right street address, but whoever this guy is,  he must have written his address down wrong." I said,  slipping the purple envelope into my purse.
" Yiu want me to close the box or do you want to pay to keep it open?" the clerk asked.
" I  don't feel like it's mine to close,  but I'm not going to pay for it so... " I shrugged 
"I'll close it, then. " she said.
"Alright " I was glad she'd made the decision for me. I smiled.  " I hope Fred Marcus doesn't mind. Whoever he is." I turned towards the door.
"Sorry about your daddy." she said.  "Thanks." I said over my shoulder,  and my eyes stung by the time I got to my car.