Delivery Guy
Delivery Guy
by Anthony Pope
I opened the front door to find the delivery guy standing on the rackety porch, pen and clipboard in hand outstretched with an inviting grin on his face.
“Hey Tracy! You already know the drill,” he said.
I took the pen with my hand and said, “You’re my favorite delivery driver, Jeff. Did you know that?” This wasn’t just any delivery guy. This was Jeff, the love of my life, but he just didn’t know that yet. I scribbled my signature with my unsteady hand. My knees trembled with nervousness when his hand brushed against mine while handing the pen back to him. I felt the warm rush of blood to my cheeks, making them a rosy red that I’m sure was noticed.
“Here’s your package, have a nice day.”
I barely understood what he was saying to me because I was mesmerized by the movement of his lips, hoping one day that mine would be on his. I’m sure I looked like a freak, staring at his face while he was offering me my package. I broke my trance and grabbed the cardboard box from his muscular hands.
The interactions I have with Jeff, I noticed, are my happiest moments. Not much excites me anymore. In this small town, we always get Jeff as our package deliverer. He handles me, my neighbors, and the rest of the houses on my 2-mile long street. I’ve been acquainted with Jeff for a few years now. Sometimes, I order something that I don’t even need, just to see him. I want to tell him how I feel about him soon. I just can’t build up the confidence.
At least he doesn’t have a ring on his finger, I reassure myself after a quick glance. He starts to walk back to his dirt-splattered van as I study his magnificent figure. Those tight-fitting jeans, the button-up black collared shirt, his confident gait, all were things that drew me closer to him.
“How are the routes this month?” I questioned to prevent him from walking further away. At this point, he is where my driveway ends and the unpaved road starts.
“Pretty dry, honestly. You’ve actually been my most frequent buyer. I’m not complaining though, I like our little visits.” This time, he definitely witnessed my cheeks turning beet-red, even from our fifteen foot distance. That was the first time he said something to me like that. I never knew that he actually liked seeing me.
“I love seeing you too,” I responded. I could have said something more, but I didn’t have the guts to. I have a history of having unhealthy obsessions. I was that weird girl in high school who still played with her Barbie dolls and dyed her hair every few months. For this behavior, among other obsessions, I was bullied all the time, which made my confidence level extremely low.
One time during my junior year, I brought one of my barbies to school and left it in my locker . It was on a day where I was really anxious and depressed; I just needed to have some comfort during those 7 long hours. When I went to my locker at the end of the day, however, I saw that it was broken open. I peered inside and saw my doll with its arms and legs ripped off, laying next to the mangled body. The inside of my locker had writing on it with words like “freak” and “idiot.” For the next week, I pretended to be sick so that I could skip school because I was too embarrassed to go. When I finally returned, everyone was calling me “Barbie Girl.”
I never recovered from that day. It sits in the back of my mind like it’s stuck to me or something. I’ve been haunted by that day for the past 8 years. Even nowadays I am too scared to express my feelings because I feel like I’m just going to be judged and harassed.
I’ve just always had a problem with letting things go. Once I have something, I don’t want to lose it or mess it up. I think that’s why I’m too afraid to say anything to Jeff. I don’t want to tarnish our simple friendship because of my dumb feelings.
I noticed that he resumed walking to the van after our conversation seemingly ended. I just couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. Once again, I am mesmerized by this perfect man, with a million thoughts going through my head at once. As he entered his vehicle I got the sudden urge to say something. If I don’t say something now, I’ll never know how he actually feels about me. All of the thoughts of that day came rushing back to me. I didn’t care.
“Hey, Jeff! Hold on!” I blurted out.
“Yeah, Tracy? What do you need?” This was my chance to really tell him how I feel. I could feel the anticipation building up inside my bones. My confidence peaked as I locked eyes with him. His were a striking green, so beautiful. I stared at him for a couple seconds inadvertently. I had to say something to him. This was my moment.
“Uh,” I stuttered, “Have a good day.”
“Alright Tracy. See you later,” was his response.
I stood paralyzed by my front door as I watched him drive away, off to the next delivery. I could not believe myself, but at the same time, I could. I trudged back inside and sat at my lonely kitchen table, stuffing my head into my arms and sobbing.
I don’t know if I’ll ever get that delivery guy.