Bitter-Sweet


I’m often faced with a frustrating predicament; an unavoidable catch-22 that comes as the unfortunate down-side to the opportunity of peeking randomly into people’s lives as they navigate through their travels and stop at the Inn along the way. Limited by our position in time, their respective journeys may have just begun or stand only mid-way through. Most frustrating is when their fascinating expeditions are nearly complete and lack just a few pieces to reach the finish. This disadvantage; this absence of closure and lack obligation to follow-up can be a hard pill to swallow, but they make the rare encounters with people like Earl Garrett - a guest at the very end of his extraordinary journey - so much more special.

It was at the end of six long months that Mr. Earl Garrett, a private investigator, found his way to the Inn. Despite his dapper blue suit and well-groomed hair, his weathered eyes were red from the extended travel and lodging and he was tremendously relieved to have it come to a close. More than he, his client (whom he called Cassandra) would be ecstatic as her story had begun more than thirty years earlier…on her birthday.

Cassandra’s twenty-third birthday was much different than her twenty-second. In just a year’s time she would go from a confused college senior, regretting and second-guessing her choice of a communications major to transform into a popular personality in multiple radio and television markets. The witty young woman with the soft, charming voice took on fans by the droves as the side-kick on a popular morning radio show and landed re-occurring spots on local TV weekend programming. The speed of the sudden fame and prestige didn’t go to her head though, rather it just made her work harder. No time for social events, dating or late nights out of the office for Cassandra. Before she knew it, the year had passed and her birthday made her pause.

Upon reflection of her hard work and success, she decided she was ready to let lose a bit and enjoy the special day, but reality and disappointment would soon set in. She received only empty, emotionless birthday greetings from acquaintances and generic paper cards that filled her office mailbox from advertisement sponsors and company big-wigs, but no meaningful birthday wishes that seemed to matter or fill her with any warmth. Her parents called by noon that day, but by 8PM she hadn’t heard from any friends and her mind focused on regret.

Depressed and lonely, Cassandra began to drink and weep at her work desk under a pathetic dim light. She had confessed to Mr. Garrett that the light was just bright enough to catch the shine on a marvelous gift basket placed on the counter space in the corner of her office. She staggered towards it and marveled at its beauty. The wooden basket was wrapped with green plastic that continued to catch the light and bounce it back in varying shades. Inside, Cassandra could see a series of treats and trinkets, but pulled back the small white card attached before going any further. Taped to the card was a delightful piece of mint chocolate, which she unwrapped and devoured as she read the note:

“Somewhere there's someone who dreams of your smile,
 And finds in your presence that life is worth while,
 So when you are lonely, remember it's true;
 Somebody, somewhere is thinking of you.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and mint chocolate down the corners of her mouth. The unsigned message was exactly what she needed to hear and she vowed to herself that success and personal happiness would both be present on her next birthday and every birthday to follow from then on.

Making good on her commitment, Cassandra continued to progress in her career and relationships; by the following birthday she was promoted to co-anchor of the local morning television news program, she had established a meaningful romantic relationship and she struggled to get any work done between answering all the singing birthday song phone calls and telegrams throughout the day from her closest of friends. She made it a point to leave the office early that second year, but noticed a marvelously familiar green gift basket on her way out. It wasn’t alone on the counter this time, but it remained the most alluring. She detached the anonymous white card from the green plastic wrap as she had done the year before, discovered another tasty mint chocolate which she gobbled down hastily and read the lovely new poem on the elevator ride to her car.

Years past on and the number of gifts and calls increased steadily each birthday. Her office filled with cards and baskets and for the first five years or so Cassandra made certain to keep her special green basket to the front of them all - the most prominent as it arrived each year on that day. Further along to ten and fifteen years she paid less and less attention. She wouldn’t notice it sometimes until days later; in years when she was dieting she skipped the chocolate mint; by year twenty she had stopped reading the poems.

Having achieved as much success as her local media outlets would allow, Cassandra finally retired from her work in front of the camera and took an editorial job for a long while at a newspaper before finally deciding to retire all-together and write a novel.

After her departure from the TV news the calls and gifts dwindled. When she left the newspaper and started her retirement they slowed and lessened to only her closest friends, but she could always count on her dependable green basket, note and mint… that was until just six months ago - when suddenly Cassandra’s birthday came and past with no special delivery.

“So here I am,” said Mr. Garrett wiping his brow, “when it didn’t arrive, she was instantly filled with regret; she had never looked into the source of the gifts and had taken them for granted. Now she fears it’s too late.”

“Is it too late?” I asked; I bit my lip as I awaited his answer.

His eyebrows furrowed as he pressed his lips together and nodded his head slightly. Mr. Garrett was relieved that his case was closed, but saddened at the news he had to give his client. The private investigator traced the last eight years worth of gift baskets to a law office in town near the Inn. He took a meeting with an attorney that was not completely surprised to hear from a private investigator inquiring about the matter. The attorney told Garrett that he had organized the deliveries for the last eight years on behalf of ‘the diseased’ and conveyed a shocking story of how the mystery gift-giver was Cassandra’s father. After she was conceived, he would be shipped away to war and expected never to return. To save the child heartache, he urged her mother to take another man’s hand and keep the true paternity a secret. The agreement was that Cassandra would never know of him and he could never contact her.

Later, having survived years of combat, he returned alive to face his decision and life without his daughter; he longed to know her and lived in loneliness because of his sorrow. Bound by his agreement, he stayed loyal to his word in hopes that her life was somehow better; he could only wonder.

Then one day she showed up on his television.

At the age of twenty-three, with the face of her mother and last name of the man who had taken his fatherly place - there she was. He could not stop himself from sending her gifts and poems to express his love even if it was anonymous. He hid clues throughout the years to provoke her curiosity, but even the mint chocolates that were made at the candy factory he worked at for twenty years went over-looked.

At the end of his life, he put aside an account to be drawn upon each year to ensure she received her basket, an additional amount was added to cover the fees for it’s personal assembly by the attorney and to guarantee its accuracy and poem selection. Last year, the account balance dropped to zero and the baskets forever ceased to be shipped.

I never saw the private-eye again and I have only my imagination for the heart break Cassandra must have suffered when she heard the news. I am grateful to have been provided with closure for this chronicle, but I realize that Cassandra’s closure may never come and the revelation of her loving father will remain forever bitter-sweet.


~The Innkeeper    


*Next Chronicle Post: Thursday*


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Posted by Innkeeper at 6/14/2010 11:00 AM
Categories: Love and Sex, Collection 1 Chronicles
Tags: Closure Birthday Catch-22 Confessed Private Eye
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