An unexpected November in March

For some reason, I woke up in an astonishingly good mood this morning, at least given the circumstances. Sure, I had no money, no employees, and a moody daughter, not to mention the ritual ruckus coming from upstairs, but I had a cheesy smile plastered on my face from the moment I woke up.

"Shh, shh, shh," I said softly, and rocked her back and forth. She stopped making noise, but a couple of extra tears leaked out of her eyes. I felt like mirroring her.

Why did I do this? What was I trying to prove to myself?

So I bounced out of bed, grabbed my clothes, and took a shower, singing over the banging. Then I toweled off and waltzed into the main room. Xiu Li was lying on the couch, half asleep. Even through my strange and unexplainable cheer, I was a bit worried about her. Everything felt a little backwards. Usually I’m the one who’s dragging my feet through a sludge of nonexistent intrinsic motivation, and she bounces. But she'd been so out of it the day before. I didn't really know what to say to her. I was never really an athlete myself, so her sorrow at getting kicked off the swim team was sorely lost on me. I vowed that if she was still in a bad mood come morning, I would make my best effort to be comforting.

I sat there and listened to the dial tone. I tried to call her back once, but on the first ring I heard Xiu Li crying on the baby monitor.

It's over, Renshu, I told myself, and held my breath before hanging up.

Before I went to go get Xiu Li, I deleted her number from the contact menu.

I was on my own hours now, so technically, I didn’t really have to get to work so early. But I wanted to make sure that I was there when any prospective employees dropped by. I grabbed my jacket and swung the door open. I took the stairs by twos, which usually I wouldn’t do on the way down (especially with a recent hospital visit looming over me), but I felt invincible. I walked out of the apartment buildings making a conscious effort not to start skipping. 

"Will I ever see you again?"

"Do you want me to answer that question?"

I didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry, Renshu," she said.

Not very many people were outside at this time of morning, but I gave sunny hellos to everyone who was. Most just grunted at me, and one guy flipped me off. I couldn’t’ve cared less. I noticed that my posters were still up as I walked down the block. I fantasized for a bit about happy, wonderful employees who would have to take orders from me, of all people. I unlocked the door to the post office and walked in joyously, humming to myself. No sooner had I walked in than the phone rang.

"I have a life. What do you mean, I don't have a life? Just because suddenly I can't go to college--"

"You don't. That's the thing. You really don't have a life anymore. You're an adult. I'm a college student. I feel so backwards, Renshu, I really do. But I have a life. You have a baby."

"Don't worry," I said sarcastically. "It's not yours." But I wished I hadn't. I didn't want to be mad at her. I just wanted her to stop talking, or tell me she was kidding. But April Fools' Day is in April. This was mid-August. And she was dead serious about all of this.

"You know what I'm getting at, don't you?"

She was going to make me say it. That was almost worse, in a way. But I couldn't hear her say it. So I did.

"It's over."

"Bingo," she said, a little too lightly. "I didn't lie to you, you know. I did love you. I still kind of do. But I'm outgrowing you, even though I'm trying not to. That's why I had to call today, before it got too impersonal."

I didn't say anything. I didn't cry. I just didn't say anything.

It was going to be a great day.

I had just gotten Xiu Li down for a nap when the phone rang. I picked it up on the first ring, hoping the baby wouldn't be disturbed. "Hello?"

"Hi, Renshu," said the voice on the other end.

"Nova!" Suddenly, the week caught up to me and I missed her painfully. "How is it? How's your roommate? How are you?" I was so overwhelmed. "I--"

"Renshu, stop."

There are four words that no guy wants to hear. They sound hilariously cliche out of context, but it's not so funny when you hear them yourself. Nova paused. And I could tell immediately what was about to happen. I almost wished later that I'd hung up.

"We need to talk."

I picked up the phone. "Hello, this is the post office."

"Yeah, hi. You have a job opening?" The voice was female. I didn't realize that I had assumed most applicants would be male until I heard her speak. But I tried not to let on.

"Yes," I said, trying to use a professional voice only to discover I didn't possess one. "Are you interested in applying?"

"Yes," she said back. "What time should I drop by?"

"Anytime is fine," I said. "We're... undergoing some shifts; we just switched management."

"I'll be there in an hour," she said.

The week after Nova left, I was incredibly busy. I was almost ashamed at how little I thought about her. Not because I didn't care. I did. I slept on the right side of the bed only, religiously so, and occasionally thought I saw her when I was out. But there are a lot of brunettes out there. I busied myself with Xiu Li, trying to figure out how to be a parent while I still remembered mine. 

I hung up the phone feeling remarkably successful about myself. I wasn't sure what to do for the coming hour, so I started puttering around a bit, organizing things and just generally improving the aesthetic appeal of the post office. Not that it needed to be feng shui or anything, but it was a little bit messy. 

Goodbye, I told the hallway full of people. 

While I cleaned, though, the phone rang again. I jumped. It had been so quiet around the place with just me that the noise sounded three times as loud. Then I laughed at myself, nursed my injured shin that I'd just bumped on the table, and answered the call. 

"Hello, this is the post office."
"Hey, I'm looking to get a job." Energetic bass voice.

"Well," I said, "we could use a secretary." I hadn't dared give the job to the woman, for fear she might have thought I was being sexist.
I was half-waiting for the guy to laugh at me or demand one of the mail routes. He defied my expectations by going "Sure."

"Can you come by after lunch today so we can negotiate a plan?"

There was a silence. I wondered if he had nodded. Then, finally, he said, "Oh, sorry. Yes."

The intercom came too soon, as I expected it would, but I hadn't expected how unreal the whole thing would be. Just like another date, but with more people around, and less restaurant. I politely asked her mom to hold the sling for me, and I hugged her. I held her as tightly as I could, until my arms hurt, and she held me back. All the young energy of two seemingly star-crossed 18-year-olds. I didn't want to let go, because as soon as I did, she would get on a plane and go become some remarkable young woman while I became a single mailman dad. So I kept holding on. I half expected Nova's mom to stop me, but she didn't. I don't know how long we stood there, but eventually she stepped back, and I looked at her. She was breaking out a little from stress, and had a couple of bags under her eyes, and I took it all in, because she was beautiful. I expected her to be crying, but she wasn't. I looked at her for a minute until she looked like she didn't know why I was doing that. "I love you, Nova," I told her, and kissed her. She kissed me back for what wasn't long enough, and then took off. 

We exchanged goodbyes and I hung up the phone. This was nice. I already had three employees. I hoped none of them would split due to the financial situation of the post office. 

I went to the airport with her, carrying Xiu Li in a sling. She was with her mom, who had about a bajillion suitcases. I wondered momentarily about the baggage fees. Nova was confusing me; she kept alternating between smiling and laughing, being excited to go, and then catching a glance at me and looking almost piteous, like she didn't know if she was allowed to be happy. 

I sighed and sat down at DuBolaire's old desk. My desk. I wasn't used to this managing business yet, but I was starting to like it.
The door opened in the lobby, and in came a teenage boy with huge glasses. I don't mean ironic hipster glasses. I mean glasses. Like the kind I had in the 80s and 90s.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm here about the job offer?"

It was a question. He was so awkward-looking. I felt for the kid. I'd been his Asian look-a-like seventeen years ago.

"Well, I have another woman coming in to talk to me soon, but we have no shortage of job openings. I can probably get you in for a mail route. What's your name?"
"Curt. Well, Cuthbert O'Reilly, but really it's just Curt."
I tried not to snort at the name Cuthbert. "Curt it is," I said. We shook hands.

While we talked about his hours and his salary, I observed Curt a little bit. He seemed to be really responsible. I wondered how old he was. His face behind the glasses was young, but he seemed to have done a lot of aging for such a small guy. He really needed the job, he told me, and for some reason I felt like I could trust the kid. 

He was so much older than he looked; one of those kids that wears adult clothes when they're not big enough to fit in them. But they grow, and they fill out the sleeves and the chest and the hips, and the pant legs stop dragging the ground. And then you've got yourself a teenager who took on too much, too soon. Curt was one of these. I wondered if that was what had happened to Xiu Li, too.

She came over a few times after that to help me with the baby, but she was even more clueless than I was. "You have to hold her head up!" I said, frantically. Nova looked up at me, grinning. "I'm sorry, Renshu! God, you're so protective of her." She grabbed my hair and ruffled it a bit. 

As we settled on a deal for his hours and his salary, I noticed that a woman, presumably the one I'd talked to, had come into the post office. I gave Curt my phone number and told him to call me with any questions or trouble, and I'd see him after lunch. He stood there for a minute. "Uh. Won't I need keys for that?"

I blinked. "Yes." I went over to the cabinet where all the truck keys were kept and handed him a keyring. "You do have your license, right?"

He nodded.

"Then go ahead. Remember what I told you, pull as far over as you can when you make the stops."

He nodded again, and carried himself out the door on his lanky legs.

"You adopted a baby?"

I couldn't read her tone at all. Disbelief was definitely in there, though.

"The orphanage didn't have any room."

"What is this, a freaking fairy tale?"

"Maybe I just want company for when you leave in August," I joked.

"Renshu, shut up. This is serious. That's a baby."

"Her name is Xiu Li," I said, proudly.

"She's white." "She's Asian," I said, grinning. "I'm her dad, and I'm Asian. It'll be hilarious when she gets older. Every substitute's gonna think she's screwing with them."

Nova sighed.

"It is a nice name."

I squeezed her shoulder.

"You're going to raise her. Like, completely." I nodded.

"You're insane. You're going to be thirty-six when she goes to college, you know that?"

I didn't care. I could tell she was being serious, but I had no idea why I'd done it, either. But,

"She's my daughter now," I said. "And I love her. I love you, too. But I love Xiu Li. And I will be the best father I can to her."

"You're a cheeseball. An idiotic cheeseball."

We sat there in silence for a few minutes, and then her ride pulled up.

I wondered if it would've been too much to ask him about his college plans. I thought back. I don't think I would've wanted somebody to ask me about that. So I promised myself I wouldn't bring it up unless Curt did.

I took the baby back to my apartment, completely in shock about what I'd just done. They don't warn you about these things in high school. Life decisions. Although I'm not sure how many people are accosted with baby adoption at the ripe young age of 18. I think they're usually on the other side of the deal.

"You're just my little ball of irony," I told Xiu Li, and she threw up on my shoulder.

I turned my attention now to the woman in the lobby. She was white, with really tan skin, and was probably in her mid-50s. Her hair was curly and short, and she had on a polo and jeans. Somehow, she still didn't come across as masculine. 

As it turned out, her name was Marjorie. She used to work a mail route in Omaha, and she had just divorced her husband and needed a job.

I gave her the other mail route, and after some quick money talk, she leaves. No instructions needed.

I signed a ton of paperwork, and then they asked me what her name was. "Last name Zheng," I said. "And?" said the guy filling out the forms. I thought a minute. It wasn't a poetic moment. "Xiu Li. X-i-u space l-i." And before I knew it, I was out the door to my mail truck, having doubled the size of my family. 

That being done, I sat back down in my desk and worked some figures, trying to see what we'd have to do to get more money. It was going to be close. I promised myself I'd have a meeting with my two, no, probably three employees that afternoon, for the sake of full disclosure.

I was delivering my afternoon mail route again, finally getting used to the routine. It already felt like an old chore, something I just did, just because. But I was getting paid. I had a package for the orphanage, and I pulled up into the middle of some serious drama. I walked up to the door with the package, and a lady was yelling in the back.

"We have nowhere to put her. This damn town is full of stupid teenagers getting pregnant and trying to pass off their damn offspring on us. DO YOU HEAR ME? NOWHERE TO PUT HER!"

"Uh, excuse me," I said, to the woman at the door. "I have a package for the orphanage."

"Just a minute," she said. "We've had a doorstep delivery, and things are a bit heated at the moment."

"Doorstep delivery?"

The yelling woman came to the door holding a bundle of cloth. The baby was screaming at the top of her lungs.

"Can you sign for your package?" I yelled over the screams.

"What are we supposed to do? No note, nothing. We're the closest place in 50 miles. What are we supposed to do with this girl?"

"PACKAGE," I yelled. I was behind schedule.

"Okay," said the first woman exasperatedly. "I'll sign for your damned package."

"No, you won't," said the second woman. "You're going to go make some arrangements. This is your fault. We didn't have to take her." "Didn't have to? She was on the doorstep!"

"Hold her," said the second woman again, and handed me the yelling bundle of fabric.

I didn't really know how to hold a baby, so I just stood there. She stopped crying and hiccuped. I looked at her. She was shriveled and tiny and fragile and incredibly hideous.

And then I did something ridiculously stupid.

"I'll take her," I said.

Despite the financial situation, I had retained my good mood. I was on top of the world. The top of my tiny little step-stool career ladder. I grinned. It was lunchtime.

I left a note on the door for Curt and Marjorie, and jogged over to Casa D'Waffle. I was starting to notice that I was becoming a regular there by accident. Oh well.

"Can I help you?"

He wasn't very intimidating, thankfully. "Yes," I said, standing tall. I swallowed. Do it for Nova. "I'm interested in applying for a job." "Boy, how old are you?" He laughed.

"Eighteen, sir."

"You graduate high school?"

"Yep. Last month."

"You're hired."

And that was that.

As I buttered my waffle, my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I picked up with a mouthful of waffle. "Mmmph?"

"Uh, hi, Mr. Zheng. This is Curt. I'm having a little trouble."
There was shouting in the background.

"What's going on?"

"Well, this woman is expecting a letter from her husband and I don't have it in my truck. I tried telling her that maybe it just isn't here today, but she didn't want to listen to me." He sounded a bit worried.

"Ah, that's not your fault. Give her the phone."
I tried to console the woman for ten minutes. I succeeded only by convincing her that her letter was probably in tomorrow's mail. I hoped I was right. I had no clue who she was.

I didn't know what to do. If it weren't for Nova, I would have been completely alone. Even she didn't really know how to handle it. I felt like a terrible person, but I didn't have anywhere to go. Anything to do. I was just... alone. Graduating in two days, with no one to see me walk. 

Then Curt got back on the phone and thanked me. He said he was almost done with the route, so I finished my waffle and high-tailed it back to the post office. I got there a couple of minutes before he did. I assumed Marjorie would take longer, even with her experience, because she'd left a considerable bit later than Curt had. That, and she had a much longer route. I hoped she hadn't been kidding about being a mailwoman in Omaha.

I called up the university and told them I had to turn down their offer, unfortunately, because of my family scenario. I spared the details for the admissions counselor. She tried to tell me about the 1-year gap, but I think we both knew by then that I wasn't going to college.

I asked Curt to stick around and help me for extra pay, and he looked over financial stuff with me. Thankfully, he didn't seem too alarmed when I explained about the mugging and Mr. DuBolaire and being thrust into the management job.

She was cremated, and I waited outside. I wondered vaguely what Dad would have thought of all of this. Nova looked at me and squeezed my hand. She had no idea what she was supposed to tell me. That was becoming a theme these days.

As he pored over the computer and helped me get some of the files in order, a big guy walked into the office. "Hello," I said. "Are you the man I spoke to earlier?"

He grinned. "That'd be me. Are you the manager?"

"That's Mr. Zheng to you," I laughed. We shook hands. 

Bill was a congenial guy who used to own a bike shop. He mostly just wanted a job, and he was fine with being a secretary. I thanked my lucky stars. Things were looking up.

"Mom?"

The afternoon sun was coming in through the window.

There wasn't any answer. I walked into the living room dubiously. "Mom! I'm home!"

The silence was really eerie. I walked into her bedroom. The clock was ticking nonchalantly, and the phone was off the hook. I pulled the door to and walked out. I rounded the corner of the hallway.

The afternoon sun was coming in through the window.

Dad's pool of blood had been spattered. Like he'd been filled with jelly and someone had stepped on him.

Mom's, I noted, was artistic, like she was. The entire scene looked surreal. The linoleum pattern disrupted by a sprawled figure and a crimson puddle.

The afternoon sun was coming in through the window.

I dropped my backpack, and then dropped to my knees. I would have panicked, but she was no longer my mother. Just a corpse, I told myself.

The afternoon sun was coming in through the window. It glinted off the knife.

I walked as calmly as I could back into the bedroom, dialed the phone, and fainted.

My last, terrible thought was that if I'd taken Forensics with Nova, I'd have known when Mom killed herself.

I gave Bill a desk in the lobby and explained where all the records and things were. He also got put in charge of answering the phone. After a brief discussion, we decided that he would also be the temporary treasurer, until things were under more control.

Mom didn't do much of anything after the accident. She drove me to school. She drove me from school, sometimes. But mostly she just cooked things, gave them to her friends, drew this, painted that, told me off for something or another. She was dead. Completely gone. Smiling at her was like throwing light at a black hole now, rather than a mirror. 

Marjorie came back from her mail route, and we all had a short meeting. The time had gone by fairly quickly, and it was already almost dinner time. 

Mom drove me home from the hospital in complete silence. I remember wondering if she'd wished it'd been me instead of him. 

I thanked Curt, Marjorie, and Bill for their help. I thought we could probably pull off the operation pretty well if we got someone to work the desk and maybe another mail route, so I told them to ask around and see who they could get. They promised, and then they were out the door into the still-bright evening.

I woke up in a really pale white room, and a nurse came in. She looked like she was thinking twice about being there at all. But she sat down on my bed awkwardly. I didn't want to drag it out.

"He's gone, isn't he?" I asked.

She didn't say anything. Just looked at me.

"Where's Mom?"

Even though I knew Xiu Li was probably long since home, I stayed a little while longer, doing not much in particular. I searched through DuBolaire's computer files. I'll spare you the details.

We drove home on the highway that night, just Dad and me. We were blasting hilarious songs on the radio, and I kept trying to tune it to the Mexican channels. He kept teasing me and saying I was Chinese and not Latino, and that I was getting too American. Maybe we should've stayed in China.

"We're going to be late," I told him. "Drive faster. Mom's going to be mad at us." "No, she won't," he said. "We're both sober, and she'd rather I didn't speed."

He signaled.

I laughed.

The sedan shifted over slightly, into the left lane.

That truck was a little too close for my liking.

It was already getting dark when I stopped tinkering around in the post office. I just liked being there. It was mine now, and that made it look so different from before. I stood on chairs. I moved the furniture around. I went behind the empty delivery desk. Just because I could. But I realized it was really getting ridiculous, and Xiu Li was probably waiting on me.

The last months or so of high school were amazing. I was finished with most of my major projects, and it was early May, and I was coasting. Nova made fun of me for slipping into what she affectionately called the "C-zone." I brushed it off. They weren't going to revoke my acceptance. I had a pretty decent scholarship, too.

So I looked for my mail bag and jacket. 8:46 pm. I wasn't sure why I'd brought them, really.

I asked her out in September.

Everything was going so well, I thought to myself. Great employees. Much better than that guy who used to swear and spit on things. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. 

I looked up.

"The post office is closed..."

She walked into first period on the first day of school. She sat down next to me.

"Your name is?" she said.

"Renshu Zheng," I said, caught off guard.

Hers was November. And she was beautiful.

I startled. "Nova!?"

And now, here she was in the post office.