Page 9 of Dear Mr. Firefighter
“I guess that makes sense…” Lola’s face twisted into an expression of understanding. “But if you need my help, I’ll be right here—working on my letter.”
“I need to finish this job application first.” I turned back to my laptop.
I couldn’t believe that I was actually going to go through with it, but I couldn’t deny that it was an interesting way of meeting someone. Communicating with the guy I had been matched with through letters was a lot safer than just going on a blind date with him. It definitely wasn’t the route someone would take if they were just looking to hook up. That was already an improvement over the guys I had been dating. The age difference was slightly concerning, but I definitely wouldn’t mind a dose of maturity in my dating life—if we ever got past the letter stage.
“Alright, I got the application sent in.” I closed my laptop after reviewing the rules for my first correspondence with the guy I was matched up with. “I guess I’ll go work on my letter.”
I went to my bedroom and found some stationary that I had received as a gift at some point, although I couldn’t remember who it was from. I pulled out a sheet of paper, picked up a pen, and stared at the blank page. I really didn’t know how to begin. I hadn’t written anyone a letter in—years. I was probably in middle school when I sent my last one, because once I got a cell phone, that became my only method of communication. I chewed on the tip of the pen and tried to figure out what I was going to say. Finally, I decided to just be honest. Wrapping my thoughts around pretty words and calligraphy was pointless—that wasn’t who I was.
Dear Mr. Firefighter,
I hope this letter finds you well. You should know that I didn’t go into the matchmaking agency expecting to actually get matched up with someone. My best friend forced me to go, and I was just trying to get her off my back. If you’re looking for some grand love affair, I’m probably not the girl for you.
Truthfully, I’m not even sure I believe in love like most people do. It just seems too complicated.
If you haven’t thrown this letter in the garbage and asked Grace to match you with someone a little more interesting yet, I guess it’s only fair that I tell you a little more about myself.
“Damn it, this letter is awful.” I aimlessly spoke out loud and stared at the page. “What should I even say about myself? I guess I can be honest… If he doesn’t like the real me, it’s a total waste of my time.”
My name is Chloe and I’m twenty-three years old. I just graduated from college and I’m looking for my first real job. That takes up most of my time right now. I majored in marketing and I’m hoping to find something in advertising. It won’t be as exciting as fighting fires, but it’s what I’ve always dreamed of doing.
I mentioned that I’m not sure I believe in love and there is a reason for that. I’ve never really seen it work. It always seems to lead to someone getting a broken heart. My parents loved each other once upon a time, but it didn’t last. My own experiences have been similar.
Anyway, I guess this is enough for one letter.
-Chloe
I stared at the letter for a few minutes after I wrote it. I thought about making some changes or rewriting it, but I realized that what I had written was from the heart. There was no reason to hand him a bouquet of hope when I felt like there really wasn’t much room for it in my life. He might as well know that I was a basket case from the beginning—a girl that had already been ruined by what most people called love. It was complicated and impossible. I certainly didn’t think I was going to find it with some random guy I got matched up with at a dating agency.
Maybe he won’t even respond. That would make it a lot easier.
“Okay, I’m done with my letter.” I walked out of my bedroom to find Lola hard at work—on the second page of her letter.
“I’m still going.” She looked up at me and smiled.
“What are you doing, telling him your life story?” I chuckled as I took a seat and folded my letter.
“I figured I should let him know as much about me as I could fit into one letter.” She nodded quickly. “I guess you just hit the highlights?”
“And the lowlights.” I shrugged. “I covered the important stuff.”
“Let me read it. Maybe I can make some suggestions.” Lola reached across the table.
“No, like I said before—they’re my words. If he reads them and never responds, then I won’t have to be disappointed later.” I pulled the letter away before she could grab it and immediately sealed the envelope.
Lola finished her letter and decided to drop them off later that afternoon. Grace had mentioned that some of her clients exchanged letters through a post office box, but I didn’t see any reason to bother with it. We were both local and I didn’t mind her acting as our intermediary. Lola thought that was a good idea as well—it seemed better than constantly checking the mail. I wasn’t sure that I was motivated to keep checking anyway. If Mr. Firefighter never responded to my letter, then it would be a bullet that I dodged.
It would be better to dodge it completely than to stand in front of it expecting it to go through my heart like Cupid’s arrow—I’ll never be that kind of girl.
I seriously considered taking the letter and tearing it up several times throughout the day as I walked by the table and saw it sitting next to the one Lola wrote. It was nice to see her so hopeful about the whole situation, but I just couldn’t get rid of the lingering doubt inside me. I was happy and content with my life. I was ready to move on to the next chapter, and I didn’t need a guy to help me write it.
Maybe he won’t. Maybe he won’t write back at all.
