Mary sat on the front stairs the same way she always did, waiting for the mail to arrive. She breathed deeply the scent of the old house. The sweet musty odor of the basement permeated the broken cold air return and blended itself with the smell of freshly dried varnish from the steps. Mary found comfort in this marrying of smells.
Mary had always lived in older homes. She had been fortunate enough to acquire this gem. It had been a labor of love to repair and mend what had been neglected for so long. Mary and her husband had spent much of the past two years remodeling their home and having a baby. Mary was only twenty-five but she felt much older. She was very tired and very sad. She was going to miss living here.
Mary had given herself completely to her husband. When they first met she had been a mess. He took care of her every need because she was capable of nothing. Mary never thought it was strange, and it never bothered her to ask him for permission to do the most innocuous of things.
Whether for great or small, Mary always asked for permission. Mary asked for permission to go out, and Mary asked for permission to buy a stick of deodorant. Mary liked to do whatever it was that would please her spouse. Now there seemed to be no pleasing him at all and this left her feeling lost.
Entering therapy two months before they were married, Mary sought to correct the damage her dysfunctional childhood had wrought. Now she was finishing up with her treatment and was wondering where the last three years had taken her. She was left wondering who she really was.
The front hallway was the only project left that needed completing. The front door ran parallel with the stairs. Mary normally kept the stairwell blocked off in order to keep the baby from harm. Mary's own personal room which was used for her own personal things was at the top of this particular set of steps.
Spending much of her free time in the stairwell, Mary was very much at home. She was on a regimen of diet soda and stair running. Mary had been feeling very unattractive as of late.
She had never been a beautiful woman or a thin girl. She did not have the longest lashes or the thinnest ankles, but she was nevertheless a woman. She had womanly desires and a need to be desired in return.
Always a devoted homemaker Mary took every duty seriously. Every dinner made, every shirt pressed to perfection, every mopping of the floor was an act of love. Every time she was called worthless, stupid, or bitch; every time a door was slammed in her face, and every time an object was thrown at her Mary's heart broke a little more.
Out of a sense of responsibility to her daughter, Mary left the home that she had made with her husband. Determined, Mary would never let her daughter grow up the way that she had. After much cajoling on the part of her spouse, she was back not three months later. Things seemed slightly better this time. Unfortunately Mary's husband had neglected many things in her absence.
Finances were such upon her return that her primary goal was to ready the house to sell. Mary's heart broke every time she ran her hands over the wallpaper that she so lovingly put up on those neglected walls. She always sighed wistfully as she moved her hands over the silky texture, knowing that she would no longer be able to do this in a few months time.
For now, Mary had a lot of time on her hands. She kicked herself for giving up her car the previous year in order to help with the bills. Much of her time now was spent in the house completely secluded from the outside world.
Mary thought of all these things as she waited for the mail. Sunlight filtered in through the window at the top of the door. She was acutely aware of the sunshine and warmth that lie on the other side. It had occurred to her to open the door, but she never did. Things were just safer this way.
Many older homes have lovely quirks that make them unique. Mary's home was no exception. The mail slot especially was unusually high on the door. Roughly three quarters of the way up, it lay only two feet in length below the window at the top.
Mary was a little over five feet tall, and could see directly into the mail slot. Due to physics, the outer cover, and the depth of the slot, an observer from the outside of the house could see almost every thing in the hallway. A person on the inside could only see the eyes of the outside observer, and this was only if looking straight on. Soon after they had moved in Mary observed this phenomenon.
She was startled back to reality by the heavy sound of boots thumping up the front steps of her house. The mail slot creaked open. The man briefly looked into the slot before a thick wad of mail held together by a rubber band was thrust inside. The mail fell to the floor with a dull thud.
Mary happened to be wearing a dress on this one particular occasion. She counted her blessings that she had not sat higher up on the staircase. Mary chuckled to herself at the thought of the mailman getting a good view of her.
Lonely was Mary. Lonely enough to seek comfort from the outside world, Mary used her computer and she used the mail. She had made a few friends and even experimented having a Master on the phone, but that was a shallow relationship. As with all shallow things which give us pleasure it had always lacked luster, and that became more obvious with time.
Six months earlier this would never had occurred to her. Mary had only had eyes for her husband. Now their bond was broken. Mary had her fun on the phone but she wanted to take one step further in making that human connection that binds us all.
