The Package
I don't know where this twisted little thing came from. It sort of hit me on the head yesterday. In honor of the season, I present a new story.
The Package
Leonard was so anxious to get home that he snuck out of the office a half hour early. He’d been tracking the package all week at UPS.com, so he knew that it had been delivered today. He could picture the cardboard rectangle tucked behind one of the pillars of his front porch, ready to be torn open by the box cutter he kept in a kitchen drawer. He ran two yellow lights on the way home.
But when he pulled into his driveway and hurried to the front door, there was no package.
He rushed around the small porch, even peering under the bushes at the edge, but there was no sign of a box there. No note on the door. Nothing.
Maybe the driver had left it by the back door instead! Leonard fumbled with his keys as he tried to unlock the door. Leaving the door open and the keys still in the lock, he ran through the living room and kitchen and flung open the back door, but the package wasn’t there either.
Had he misread the tracking update? While Leonard waited for his computer to boot up, he retrieved his keys and shut the front door. Then he stood at his desk, anxiously tapping his foot and hand.
“Okay…UPS.com…tracking number…”
Yes, there it was. And it said delivered at 3:14 pm. It was now 4:53pm. Where the heck was it?
It’s not necessarily easy to talk to a live human being at UPS, but with some persistence, Leonard managed it.
“Yes,” said a bored-sounding woman with a southern accent. “That parcel was delivered today to 2140 Ambrose Way.”
Leonard’s heart skipped a beat.
“2140? No, no, no! I live at 2410 Ambrose!”
“I’m sorry, sir. Our documents say 2140. You’ll have to contact the shipper.”
He almost swore as he fiercely pushed the off button on his phone. A few more moments of clicking away at the keyboard, and there was a copy of his invoice. Darn it! He had mistyped his address!
Leonard spent several minutes fuming silently at himself, at his incompetent high school typing teacher, at the unfairness of life itself. Suddenly, he grabbed his keys again and fled out the front door.
Leonard hadn’t really run anywhere since high school PE class, and he was winded by the time he reached the end of his own block. It was nearly 80 degrees out, and he could feel sweat sticking his shirt to his back and dripping into his eyes. His tie flapped backwards against his face. Still, his legs kept on pumping until he found himself doubled over, gasping and wheezing, in front of 2140.
It was in the same subdivision and looked like it was the same floor plan as his own house. But 2140 was painted a different shade of beige, the front door was black instead of white, and there was a small scattering of jack-o-lanterns on the porch. Instead of his own white Toyota, a blue SUV was parked in this driveway. The back window was decorated with a family of stick figures wearing Mickey Mouse hats.
Leonard looked up and down the street, but saw nobody else. Still breathing hard, he walked as nonchalantly as possible toward the house. A quick glance confirmed that, save for the pumpkins and a few dried leaves, the porch was empty.
He stretched his lips into a smile and rang the doorbell. “Excuse me,” he’d say in a charming manner. “I believe there’s been a delivery error and you received my parcel by mistake.” But nobody answered, not even when he rang twice more.
Well, maybe the bell was broken. Nobody came when he pounded the door with his fist, either. He heard no signs of movement.
He just slumped there for a moment, feeling the beginnings of tears prickling his eyes. Then he straightened and looked furtively up and down the block. Good. Still nobody in sight.
Leonard walked briskly to the side of the house and was relieved to discover that the gate to the back yard was not locked. With a final glance around, he slipped through the gate.
The small back yard of 2140 was the same layout as his own, yet it looked entirely different. He rarely spent time outdoors and wanted as little yard maintenance as possible, so he’d had almost the entire yard covered with a concrete patio. His patio was completely unadorned, other than an empty blue pot his sister had given him as a gift. The yard at 2140, though, was scrubby grass surrounded by a flower border that badly needed weeding. Scattered everywhere across the grass were balls and various plastic toys. There was a metal table with three matching chairs and a faded umbrella, and in one corner of the yard was a plastic wading pool with a large crack across the bottom.
Leonard poked around the yard for a few minutes to see if the package was there somewhere. He even looked under some of the toys, but of course there was no sign of it. Leonard let out a frustrated growl and kicked at a small plastic lawnmower. The toy went flying across the little yard and landed against one of the chairs with a satisfying crash.
He turned and peered through the sliding glass door into the kitchen. It was much messier than his: dirty dishes were piled in and around the sink and a couple days’ worth of newspapers were piled haphazardly on the table. The vinyl floor looked scuffed and slightly grimy. But as he glanced toward the back of the room, he felt his heart begin to race.
There was a box.
It sat on the counter next to the refrigerator, and it was brown cardboard, and although it was too far away for him to make out any details, he could tell that it was exactly the right size and shape. It did not look like it had been opened yet. It must be his package.
Leonard tried to slide open the door, but of course it was locked. The window next to it was locked as well. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, chewing his bottom lip so hard that it bled. His package was right there!
Suddenly, he whirled around and grabbed the nearest patio chair. He swung the chair at the door with all his might, and the glass burst inwards, scattering across that dirty floor in a million sparkling pieces. He moved too quickly when he reached his arm in to undo the lack, and he cut his arm quite badly on a jagged edge that remained attached to the frame. He hissed a little but didn’t stop, and then the door was open and he was inside, his loafers crunching across the glass.
Leonard darted around the table and was already reaching for the box when a man burst through the doorway next to the fridge. The man was wearing only boxer shorts and his hair was dripping wet. He was younger than Leonard, maybe 30, and he was tall. “Who the fuck are YOU??” he roared, and he lunged toward Leonard. Leonard ran back toward the shattered door, and the man followed. But when his bare feet hit some of the glass, he howled and slipped onto his knees.
Leonard had the briefest moments of indecision. He could scuttle back through the door, and, with his badly lacerated feet, the man would never be able to catch him. Instead, though, he ran back around the table in the other direction and with a feeling of great triumph he scooped his box into his arms.
But by the time he made it back to the door, the man was upright again. He dove towards Leonard and grabbed the box. Leonard was shocked and horrified, but he didn’t lose his head. He hung onto that package, snarling at the man, who was swearing back at him. But the man was stronger, and with a great yank, he wrenched the box out of Leonard’s hands. With an incoherent roar, Leonard swooped downward and snatched a large shard of glass. Unmindful of the damage to his own hand, he plunged the pointed end deep into the man’s chest.
The man screamed and staggered backwards, still clutching the box. Then he froze, and Leonard just watched uncertainly. A moment later, the man’s entire body went loose, and the box fell. Leonard had it almost before it hit the floor.
He looked at the box, which was covered in blood, but he could still make out his own name on the label.
He looked at the man, who now sprawled on his back across the glass-covered floor, unmoving. A great puddle of blood was spreading underneath him, and his eyes were turned sightlessly toward the ceiling.
Leonard smiled.
With the box cradled carefully in his arms, Leonard walked out the back door, across the untidy yard, and through the gate.
For the second time in two decades, Leonard ran, but this time his heart was pounding as much with joy as with the exertion. In just a moment he’d be back at 2410, box cutter in hand.
Leonard was ready to open his package.