A Sketch by Jean-Pierre Martinez
The postman arrives and looks for a name on a mailbox but can’t find it. A tenant appears.
Postman – Excuse me, Miss Taylor, do you know her?
Tenant – Taylor? No… Well, yes… That was my maiden name. But nobody calls me that anymore… And I’ve been married for twenty years.
Postman – Nevertheless, this is the correct address.
Tenant – Let me see…
The postman hands her the envelope.
Tenant – It’s strange; it looks like a collectible stamp… But look, the postmark is from March 21, 1985… Nearly thirty years ago!
The postman examines the envelope.
Postman – Oh yes, indeed… That’s incredible.
Tenant – What could it be?
Postman – Why don’t you open it since it’s addressed to you?
Tenant – Do you think so?
Postman – Miss Taylor, is it still you?
Tenant – Yes… Well, it used to be…
She opens the envelope and scans its contents.
Postman – So?
Tenant – It’s a letter from my ex-boyfriend… My first love.
Postman – What does it say? If it’s not too indiscreet, of course.
Tenant – He apologises for not being able to make it to our last date; he broke his leg. He’s stuck in the hospital.
Postman – These things happen; I know what I’m talking about.
Tenant – And to think I believed he stood me up…
Postman – True, at that time, there was no internet. There weren’t even mobile phones. What else does he say?
Tenant – He says he loves me… Can you imagine? If only I had known…
Postman – It’s incredible! This letter took 30 years to reach you…
Tenant – Yes… And I don’t congratulate you!
Postman – Excuse me?
Tenant – If this letter had reached me on time, my life could have been very different!
Postman – Yes, of course, but…
Tenant – I really wonder what he has become…
Postman – What was his name?
Tenant – It’s written on the back of the envelope, isn’t it?
The postman checks.
Postman – No? That’s not true!
Tenant – What?
Postman – But I’m the one who sent you this letter! I had completely forgotten!
Tenant – You? Are you sure?
Postman – Absolutely! It’s my name, and it’s the address of my parents. Where I lived at that time…
Tenant – I wouldn’t have recognised you at all…
Postman – It’s been thirty years… I haven’t forgotten your first name, of course, but your last name…
Tenant – So, you became a postman.
Postman – Yes… I was so depressed that you never replied to my letter… Thinking back, I believe that’s why I became a postman. To have the joy of bringing others the answers I never received.
Tenant – And your leg, is it better?
Postman – Yes, thank you… But please, call me Mike…
Tenant – Well, I’m in a bit of a hurry now. My husband is waiting for me outside with the car.
Postman – Of course…
He watches her leave, almost running.
Postman – Miss Taylor…
Black.
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A sketch from the collection Open Letters
Link to the collection for free download (PDF)
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