If Wishes Could Come True
By Bart Vogelzang
***
“Could you check General Delivery for any mail for William Matthews, please?”
The voice, sounding as sweet as nectar of the gods would taste, echoed in my head, as I stared at what could only be a Greek god. Sun bleached blond hair, with slightly darker depths near his superbly formed skull, pointed in all directions with enthusiastic abandon. Rather than being repulsive, the ‘just out of a shower’ look served only to highlight the incredibly bronzed and blemish-free skin of his patrician features. Deep green eyes, graced by long dark lashes and a set of naturally groomed eyebrows, gazed with humor and intelligence into mine.
“Uh. Ah. Er. I’m sorry, but I’ll need to see some identification first,” I stammered, only too aware that I was barely able to stand up, with my knees quivering, my stomach in ecstatic butterfly mode, and my throat barely able to feed me a breath. I had been working in the Post Office in this tourist village in Hawaii for only a few weeks, and I was still keen to follow all the rules and regulations. Some, like getting ID before knowing if there was even any mail, seemed silly, but I wasn’t about to rock the boat of my financial future, even for someone so, so….
“Of course,” he smiled, and reached towards a back pocket with his right hand. His muscles moved like one of those black panthers you sometimes see in TV specials. ‘Pure grace’ is almost an insult compared to the sheer reality. His skin pulled taut, abs flexed, pecs stretched, and his golden body hair reflected the indoor lighting in a shimmer that made him look as if he was lit from inside. Perfect nipples were rivaled by an awesome belly button, from which a delicate treasure trail wisped into his low hanging shorts.
I couldn’t stand it. I was instantly tenting my uniform pants, and had to turn quickly away, gasping, “I’ll check right now, while you’re getting your ID.” I was only 22, a pretty confident athlete when it came to hiking, kayaking, climbing, and other mountain sports, but my confidence at dealing with this stranger was miniscule at best. Not being fully out at work, I really didn’t need to be quivering and drooling and acting like a teeny bopper. Maybe I didn’t need that, but I was doing it nonetheless.
After a moment, I recovered somewhat, and was able to check under the M’s. A deep breath, and I turned back to him, barely able to stop myself from raking his body with a long and lascivious stare. “I’m so truly sorry, Mr. Matthews, but there is nothing here for you,” I apologized, as if I’d been the one to cause this affront. I couldn’t help but lower my eyes in shame at failing this god, but joy came to me with the view of his wondrous legs. Long and lithe, they looked like climber’s legs, muscles and tendons in perfect symmetry. Sandals, made with coiled and knotted grasses on a leather bed, highlighted the most elegant toes one could possibly dream of.
“That’s okay. I didn’t really expect anything on a Monday, anyway. Better luck tomorrow, I’m sure. Thanks for looking.” And then, just as he was about to turn away, “You never checked my ID. Take a look. Maybe I won’t need to pull it out for you tomorrow,” he smiled, innocently.
I couldn’t stand it. My insta-rise tent was only slightly less uncomfortable than my instant sunburn. Feeling like I might actually burn up his ID by getting too close, I looked at it, and realized that William Matthews was almost my age. In fact, his birthday was only four days away, on Valentine’s Day.
To say it was a relief when he sauntered out the door, moving as he did, was an understatement. One more flex of an arm, wiggle of his butt, or thought about him at all, and I’d have simply embarrassed myself beyond repair. I already dreamed with dread of his next visit; and the door hadn’t even finished closing.
***
“Could you check General Delivery for any mail for William Matthews, please, ah…Mister…?”
The voice, as sweet as nectar, impressed me, as I looked avidly at this Adonis wannabe. Bleached dirty blond hair, with slightly darker roots showing near his skull, pointed in all directions with a careless look, highlighting the uniformly bronzed and virtually blemish-free skin. Deep green eyes, dark and maybe slightly too long lashes and a set of inquisitive eyebrows, gazed into mine.
“Andy. Uh. Ah. Er. I’m sorry, but I’ll need to see your identification first,” I stammered, only to realize that I was being an idiot. I’d already looked over his ID yesterday, and there was no way I could even pretend to have forgotten him. My knees quivered from embarrassment as my stomach knotted briefly, and I gasped a bit as I tried to draw a deep breath. Whilst I had been enjoying working in the Post Office, for the most part, I was reluctant to follow some of the rules and regulations, since several of them seemed silly, but I wasn’t about to rock the boat this soon in my career.
“Of course,” he smirked, and feinted towards a back pocket, having already realized I’d noticed my gaffe. The skin of his lips pulled taut, reflecting the inside lights off his teeth, looking more like a grimace than a grin. Despite his perfect nips, there was something slightly ‘off balance’, and I realized it was his treasure trail. The color didn’t quite seem to match anywhere else, and I realized Mr. Matthews might just be dying his hair.
I couldn’t stand it. I was forming a tent in my uniform pants, and had to turn quickly away, gasping, “I’ll check right now. Forget the ID.” I was a pretty confident 22, but my confidence at dealing with this former stranger was not as good as I’d have wished for. I really didn’t need to be getting all worked up over a hunky dude, but I was doing it nonetheless.
After a moment, I recovered some more, and checked under the M’s. When I turned back to him I casually glanced over his body with a calm stare. “I’m sorry, Mr. Matthews… William, but there’s still nothing for you.” I lowered my eyes somewhat, to take in his sandals, only to see that he had on some Nikes today.
“That’s okay. I’m waiting for a letter from my mom, but didn’t really expect anything this soon before my birthday. Better luck tomorrow, I hope. Thanks for looking, Mr. Andy.” And then, just as he was about to turn away, “You’re shittin’ me, right? Mr. Andy?” he tittered, and left the office.
***
“Mr. Andy, sir, could you check General Delivery for my mail, please?”
The voice, sounding sweet and friendly as ever, belonged to someone who had seen some training. William’s mildly unkempt dirty blond hair, almost ready for another bout with highlighting, pointed in all directions, just begging for a comb or brush. The first indications of a beard shadow made his skin look more than a bit rugged. His almost unnaturally green eyes peered into mine.
I laughed happily, “No, not Mr. Andy… Mr. Horvath, Andy Horvath, but feel free to call me Andy. My lips quivered from amusement at his obvious joke. I had slowly become disenchanted with working in the Post Office after only a few weeks, and I was getting pissed off at the high and mighty arrogance of some of the other workers. They were postal workers, for God’s sake, not rocket scientists. It was good to be able to joke around with someone for once.
“Of course…Andy,” he smiled a huge grin, with the inside lights reflecting off his teeth, of which his canine teeth looked somewhat larger than the others, and with a different coloration too. He wore a bright red T, hiding his six pack, but looking mighty spiffy over his black shorts.
I couldn’t stand it. I had to grin widely myself. He was just too much fun.
“Did my mom send me anything?” he asked, somewhat more subdued.
“I’ll check right now, Bill.” I was pretty confident, and my confidence at dealing with Bill was growing daily. Even though I was only just starting to come out at work, I wasn’t all that worried that people could see I enjoyed his visit.
In a moment, I had checked under the M’s, and I was sorry to have to tell him, “I’m sorry, Bill. There’s still nothing for you. Is your mom a busy person? Is she a working mom, with no time to write?” I lowered my eyes somewhat, not sure if I would help him by offering excuses for his mom, or upset him.
“That’s okay, Andy. She’s very busy, and may have forgotten. I’m sure there’ll be something for my birthday. She’s always sent me something for my birthday. Birthdays and Christmas are special in our family, especially since dad died 5 years ago. I can hardly wait for tomorrow.” And then, just as he was about to turn away, a tear formed in one of his eyes, and he slowly left the office.
***
“Hi, Andy. Did she send anything?”
The voice, sounding sweet and melancholy at the same time, trembled into my awareness, as Bill displayed the obvious sorrow he had suffered last night. His now disheveled and dirty hair, ready for a good scrubbing, pointed in all directions, daring a brush to even come close. A distinct beard was starting to mar his sallow look, as his lips drooped in a frown. Tiny black pupils surrounded by gray peered at me through red-rimmed eyes; his green contact lenses forgotten.
I shook my head sadly, not wanting to disappoint Bill, but having no choice. My lips quivered in sympathy, as he was obviously succumbing to his growing pain. I was pissed off at the high and mighty arrogance of his mother. How dare that bitch crush her son like this? What had he ever done to deserve this treatment? But what could I do about it? I’m only a postal worker, not a miracle worker.
“I’m truly sorry, Bill, but there is nothing here for you,” I apologized dejectedly, as if I’d been the one to cause the affront to this hurting young man. I couldn’t help but lower my eyes in shame at failing him in his moment of need.
I couldn’t stand it. I had to do something. Anything.
“That’s okay, Andy. She’s very busy, and may have forgotten. I’m sure there’ll be something for my birthday, even if it’s late. She’s always sent me something for my birthday. As I said before, birthdays and Christmas are special in our family. Sadly, my present last Christmas was lost in the mail, but that could never happen twice in a row, right, Andy? It couldn’t, could it?”
And then, just as he was about to turn away, tears formed in my eyes, blurring the world as he slowly left the office.
***
“Andy?” A trembling and tearful voice, melancholy beyond belief, quavered my name. I looked at someone who had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Smelling, dirty, bearded; wearing a shirt that had been ready for the wash yesterday, William Matthews looked like something from a Greek tragedy, or a reject from Hades; a far cry from a birthday boy.
My head pounded, almost overwhelming me, as my heart pumped blood through my arteries with my excitement. “You have a package, Bill!”
Like the Heavens had opened a direct path from God, his smile was back. He pulled himself upright, straightened his clothes as best he could, and grabbed the package, with an ecstasy that knew no bounds. In a flash, he was out the door, as my tears flowed unabashedly.
***
Hours later, as I approached my car after work, I spotted Bill’s familiar shirt. It was still on him, as he sat, slouched but smiling, against my car. I wondered how he knew which was mine, but that thought disappeared in a flash, as he noticed me and quickly scrambled upright, and, with no warning, grabbed me in the biggest hug I’ve ever had from anyone, even my parents.
“Whoa, Bill. What’s up with that?” I asked, not in the least upset at this development.
“I know what you did, Andy. I’m not an idiot,” he said, holding up the now-opened parcel from his mom. “You did this, you lovely man.”
“What are you talking about, Bill?” I returned, faking innocence.
“You’re shittin’ me, right, Mr. Andy?” he tittered. “Even I know that there is no way in hell that a cake with all the trimmings could make it across town in the mail, much less from the States.” Bill’s laughing became hysterical, and rapidly descended into uncontrollable crying.
“Bill…Bill…. Please, Bill…Stop…Stop…Stop.” I finally just grabbed Bill’s face, and stopped him in the only way I could, a huge kiss. Eventually he had to stop crying, not being able to breathe anymore. “Happy Birthday, my Valentine, and many more.”
Then it was Bill’s turn to kiss me, and he still hasn’t stopped…
***
© 2007 by Bart Vogelzang – All rights reserved.