Author's note: This is the one episode that I don't re-watch very much. I feel so sad for everyone for so much of this movie that even though the ending is awesomely hopeful, I tend to avoid it. This one will be a struggle. Martha Williamson just makes her characters too real. So here goes – wish me luck.
There are many great things about Denver. It has a decent art-scene with some amazing street art if you know where to look, some great food (including a superb candy factory) and scenery that is awe inspiring. There are some interesting historical sites within easy reach if that is your thing. It also has weather. Locals will tell you about the balmy days that happen even through winter. Don't listen to them. They are suffering from altitude sickness. It is cold. Winter starts in September and is still hanging around in March. Denver's weather is bone-chillingly awful, with a good chance of frostbite.
So, after finding gloves and a scarf and bundling myself up like some twenty-first century Heidi, I was of course the last one to the office again. Working at the DLO is always a journey into the unexpected. Today began with postal poetry and lost wedding rings. And lost letters for Paris. I admit, I have always tended to run from situations and events that are too personal, too full of feeling. So today, I fled to the roof of the post office with a letter I should absolutely not be touching.
Seeing that letter, holding it is my hands, was devastating. Without opening it, did I have hope? Could I pretend that things could continue as they currently are? So many possibilities floated through my head. I could destroy it, I mean it was nearly ruined already, ignore its existence. But could I do that to Oliver? Regardless of my own feelings and wishes, Oliver did send the letter, and how could I deny him the chance of a reply? I could send it on its way unharmed. I could just let things take their course and refrain from interfering. I should. Or dare I take a look inside, either to confirm or eradicate my fears? No, Oliver has just made me promise that I will not open envelopes without his express permission. I needed to talk to Rita.
I will admit, I was 96 per cent sure that I knew that it was Oliver's letter to Holly. Is it wrong to manipulate your friend so that you can use that technicality to say that you didn't do something you promised you wouldn't? Oh, help, I am now speaking in the kind of convoluted sentences that Oliver sometimes can't escape from. Or is that from which he can't escape? Okay Diary, I am stalling. I did something that Oliver would say I should not have, but I just had to! I asked Rita to open the letter, and then I read it. I read more than I need to because I needed to know what he was asking. Now I know. I am almost certain he wants her back. Wow I know how to pick 'em. Here I am hoping after someone else who has priorities other than me. Well done Shane. And then Norman mailed the letter before we could ask Oliver (well until I convinced Rita to ask Oliver) what he wanted to do. Holly will receiver her letter tomorrow. Sacré bleu!
I guess it is pretty typical for how my… friendship… with Oliver progresses that crossed swords are interspersed with moments of connection. Shakespeare says that 'friendship is constant in all things.' We shall see. Even though I knew that an ugly reckoning was coming, while freezing at Rita's stamp dispenser opening, I listened to Oliver talk of the hope that a robin or a crocus symbolises, then told him of my love of our porch swing and the delight that its reinstatement on the porch meant during my childhood. McInenrney you need to watch yourself. You are better at protecting yourself than this!
So, I told him. It is said that confession is good for the soul, but I don't think this one was. And now Oliver is upset with me, and he has every reason to be. I am pretty upset with myself. So, what did I do? Well, the best means of defence is attack, and so I went a little bit postal on Oliver and called him a human antique! I mean he is, but why would I say that? Once again, scared Shane is mean. I broke a promise and called him names as self-preservation. Oliver tried to hit back, but I deserve ever ounce of scorn that he sends my way. The poor man. Does he really think that his work is the only thing that he has done right? Doesn't he know what a light he is in our lives? How much Rita and Norman care for him? How much I …
What a day. Oliver is upset with me, Norman is upset with Ramon (or maybe Rita), Rita is probably upset with me, and I am upset with myself. Joey Castelucci is devastated that we are going to try and ruin his marriage (the divorce papers we are set to deliver tomorrow – divorce papers, really?). Oh, and tomorrow, we have to find out about Holly's poem. Happy day!
P.S. Rita is the worst at charades.