Leonard awoke to a shower of dirt being poured on him, followed by something long and heavy. “Agh!” he shouted, getting to his feet. Looking down, he saw what had so rudely intruded on his slumber. It was a ficus. “A tree?” he said incredulously to the young man standing before him. “Who throws a way a god damn tree?”
The nervous young man stared blankly at him for a moment. “This is a dumpster,” he said dumbly.
“Really?” said Leonard sarcastically. “Because I could have sworn I went to bed in a motel six last night! What the hell are you throwing away a tree for?”
“Uh...” said the young man, “New girl, in the office, uh, she’s allergic.”
“So go plant the thing in a forest or something, don’t come dumping it on me when I’m trying to have a nap!”
“I only dumped it on you,” the young man said, apparently growing brave, “because you were in a dumpster.”
Leonard opened his mouth to shout something, but he couldn’t think of anything. “Fair point,” he said, scratching the back of his head.
They were silent for a few moments, then the young man said, “Should, uh... do you want a dollar, or something?”
"No I don’t want a fucking dollar!” Leonard yelled. “What do I look like to you, a vending machine?”
"I, uh... I have to go back to work,” the young man stammered, and he hurried out of the alley back to the busy main road. Leonard stretched and scratched his stubbly chin. Truth be told, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep in the dumpster. He was stumbling home last night, drunk out of his mind, when he saw someone throwing away a particularly nice looking chair, and he thought he might bring it home. The last thing he remembered was trying to hoist himself over the edge of the dumpster. He must have passed out as soon as he landed on the inside.
Bending, he picked up the ficus and lowered it down neatly beside the dumpster. It would look nice in his bathroom. Leonard was a regular dumpster diver, and he never ceased to be amazed by what people threw out. The best place to look was in college campuses at the end of the school year, when students threw out everything from bedsheets to microwaves rather than be bothered to bring them home. There was very little of what Leonard owned that he had actually payed for.
He knelt down to retrieve the chair that he had meant to retrieve the night before, but evidently he had landed on it when he fell in, and two of the legs were broken. He examined it in the sunlight that slipped in from the top of the two buildings surrounding him. It was a very nice chair. Hand carved, by the looks of it, the wood was cherry. At least, he thought it was. It was red, at any rate. Sighing, he lifted the now worthless chair and threw it out of the dumpster, casing two cats that had been attempting to hump to yowl in surprise and dart away. “What’s this?” Leonard said, for underneath the chair was a smooth, wooden box, the same wood as the chair, and it too, appeared to be hand carved. He lifted it out of the rubbish and sat back, cross legged, the box in his lap. He opened it.
Inside there was a number of photographs, greeting cards, and sheets of notebook paper. He picked up one of the photographs. It showed a young woman, chestnut brown hair falling carelessly around her face, laughing sheepishly as she sat in the hand carved chair. Another showed the same woman, this time with her face pressed close against that of a handsome young man with short, brown hair and blue eyes. They were smiling broadly, and from the arm extending from him toward the right of the photo, Leonard guessed that it had been he who had taken the picture. Another photo showed the same young man, shirtless, standing before a work bench, a large block of wood before him and a chisel in one hand, the other trying to cover the lens of the camera. He was smiling. There were countless others, all showing one or both of the same young couple, and sometimes including another piece of hand carved something.
Leonard picked up one of the cards and opened it. It read:
Dear Lilly,
I know how much I complain about having to take my shoes off in your house. If you place this chair by your front door for me to sit in while I take them off, I promise you’ll never hear a word out of me about it again.
Happy Birthday.
Love,
Trevor
Setting it down, Leonard picked up another card. This one said:
Dear Lilly,
These past three months with you have been the best of my life. I’m not good with words, so I say simply this: I love you.
Love,
Trevor
He replaced the card carefully into the box. This time he picked up one of the torn pieces of notebook paper. But the only thing written on this was a phone number, decorated with an abundance of hearts and designs. He picked up a larger piece of paper.
Lilly,
Please don’t let what my mother said yesterday evening get to you. She’s never liked anyone I brought home. Please know that it in no way changes things between us. I love my mother very much, but I wont let her ruin this for us. I love her, but I love you more.
Love,
Trevor
P.S. You left your phone at my parent’s house. I’d have left it with this note, but it wouldn’t fit under the door. I have it. Please come see me soon.
He picked up another, longer letter. This one was difficult to read, as it was blotched with tears.
Lilly,
You won’t answer my calls, and you’re probably blocking my emails. Please, I need to talk to you! It didn’t mean anything, we were both drunk, you weren’t answering my calls for days. She was there, that was all. She meant nothing to me.
God, I must sound pathetic listing off all these excuses. Please call me.
Love,
Trevor
Leonard shifted the contents of the box around, but there were no more sheets of paper. Disappointed, he was just about to close the box when he spotted a particularly new-looking white envelope. He picked it up. It was still sealed. He hesitated only a moment before opening it. Inside was another piece of paper, folded neatly. It read:
Dear Lilly,
You said you forgave me. You said you’d give me another chance. But now you’re ignoring me again. Maybe you never forgave me, or maybe you just don’t want to talk to me right now. I don’t know. All I know is that I can’t take not knowing anymore. I’ve been offered a job in Los Angeles, and I need to respond by tomorrow. Please, if there’s any chance at all for us, if you have any interest in staying with me, meet me at the place where I first told you I love you. I would stay for you, I would give up that job in an instant for you, only for you. But if you wont have me, then I can’t stay here.
I don’t know when you’ll be getting home, so I’ll wait there for you until 11 tomorrow morning. That’s when I need to give them my answer.
Love,
Trevor.
P.S. It’s the 20th. I don’t know how long you’ll be out, maybe for a while. If you get this after tomorrow, the 21st, I’ll have already signed the papers.
Leonard replaced the letter and turned over the envelope. There was no address, only the name Lilly scrawled across it. Thinking, Leonard tried to remember what day it was. As if in answer, a newspaper landed on top of his head. Glancing at the date, he saw that it was the twenty-first.
Springing up, he turned to the old woman who had thrown it away, who jumped and clutched her chest. “Is this today’s paper?” He asked. The old woman nodded slowly. “What time is it?” he asked. When the old woman simply starred at him, wide eyed, he repeated, more loudly “What time is it?”
The old woman jumped again, before looking at her watch. “It’s ten-thirty,” she said, her voice shaking.
“Thanks,” said Leonard, and he sat down again, thinking. It was really none of his business. Clearly the girl wanted no more to do with this guy. But Leonard felt bad for him. She hadn’t even opened his last letter. Then again, maybe the guy was a slimeball, how would Leonard know? He picked up one of the photos of the smiling couple. Girls usually didn’t hang on to letters and pictures of slimeballs in a hand carved box. This is ridiculous. I don’t even know where she lives. He looked at the envelopes. None of them had an address. Making up his mind, he stood up, just in time to receive a half full water bottle to the face. “Dammit!” he shouted, frightening away the teenage boy who had thrown the bottle.
Leonard made to get out of the dumpster, but was distracted by a small tabby cat that had just jumped into it. The cat began rubbing against Leonard’s legs, meowing softly. “What the hell are you doing,” Leonard said, but quietly. This was very strange behavior for an alley cat. “Friendly little thing, aren’t you?” he said, bending to pick up the cat. It did not resist, but instead purred contentedly as Leonard held it out in front of him. “Ah,” he said. The cat had a collar. It was a house cat. Squinting, Leonard read the golden tags hanging from the collar. It read Pepper Garret. Turning it over, he read the other side:
Return to:
Lilly Garret
24 N. Wilder street,
Falls Church, VA 22040
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Leonard thought. It had to be a coincidence. There must be a thousand Lillys in Falls Church. The cat meowed softly and stared curiously at Leonard.
“Pepper?” called a voice from somewhere beyond the alley. “Pepper, where did you run off to?” Looking past the cat, Leonard saw a woman with chestnut brown hair turn into the alley. When she spotted Leonard holding the cat out in front of him, she said “Pepper! There you are.” She rushed forward to them, and Leonard handed the cat down to her. “Um,” she said, looking unsure of what to say.
“Thanks.”
“You must be Lilly,” said Leonard, looking down at her from where he stood in the dumpster.
She looked scared, “How did- oh, right!” She laughed a little. “The tags.”
Leonard studied her for a moment. Her eyes were red and swollen. Kneeling down, he opened the box
and retrieved Trevor’s most recent letter. Standing, he held it out to her. She eyed it apprehensively, as if it were going to bite her.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Uh,” Leonard was unsure of how to proceed. “It’s, uh... it’s from Trevor.” Lilly’s face stiffened. Holding Pepper tightly to her, she peered into the dumpster and spotted the open box. “Do you always go through people’s garbage?” She asked. Her voice wavered a little as she spoke.
“Yes,” said Leonard. “I think you should read it, at least.” He waved the envelope in her face, and she snatched it from him. “I, uh, I already opened it. Sorry.” But Lilly ignored him. She was staring at the letter, wide-eyed, as thought it were shouting at her. She held it in front of her, and her eyes welled with tears. She looked back at Leonard, then the envelope, and then, ripped the letter from it awkwardly, Pepper still clutched in her arms. She let the envelope fall to the ground and read, tears streaming down her face as she did so. When she had finished, she took a shuddering breath and looked down at her watch. She gasped audibly. Turning back to Leonard she started to say something, but the words apparently caught in her throat. She thrust the cat back at him and he took it. Before he could say anything, Lilly had run off. Leonard stared down at Pepper, who stared back. “Is she always this crazy?” he asked. Pepper simply meowed.
Sighing, Leonard climbed out of the dumpster and, cradling Pepper in one hand, he grabbed his ficus. He only had to walk a short way down the main road before coming to Wilder street, and number twenty-four was the second house on the right. He sat the ficus down on Lilly’s porch and tried the door. It was unlocked. She must have left forgotten to lock it when she went after Pepper. He set the cat down inside and closed the door. This wasn’t the best neighborhood. If the door was left unlocked all day, Lilly Garret would be robbed blind by sunset. Sighing again, he sat down on the porch and waited, staring absently down the street. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He just hoped she’d be back sometime that day, at least. She’d probably want to check on her cat.
His gaze fell upon a middle aged woman in slippers walking down her driveway, curlers in her hair and a cigarette in her mouth. She was dragging behind her an old cushioned dining chair. It looked as though the seat of his had been chewed by a dog, but other than that it was intact. She set it down beside the garbage bin at the end of the drive. Leonard smiled. It looked like he’d be getting a chair after all.
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