Not a Fire Drill

I suppose that it is fearing you have reached your end that causes you to confront some truths, some hard and some a little easier. Today, thanks to Jason's lack of … focus, I was seriously confronted with my own mortality. I admit to being more terrified than I had ever been at any other time in my life. Being locked in a bank vault did cause me a little consternation.

As it turned out, we were not in any danger at all, but a couple of unruly boys caused us to think we were. The first boy was a child named Ryan, who was causing his mother all sorts of grief and ended up causing us a fair amount of grief too. When I first encountered him, I did wonder how he would have faired in a class taught by my mother. I think Mrs McInerney would have him sorted out by recess. Unfortunately for us, my mother did not cross his path, and so his sugar-induced excitement (as we later found out) was the beginning of all our calamity. The second unruly child was more of a man-child, who it turned out, did not listen during his staff induction. Jason (the man-child) led us to believe that we had a limited supply of oxygen, hence my panic. In fact, we were in no danger, but later knowledge did not diminish my anxiety at the time.

I was so thankful that Oliver was there with me. I cannot begin to imagine how dire things would have been if it had just been me on my own, or worse still, with Jason alone. I am not sure that both of us would have made it out in one piece. Planning what I would have done with his body in such a small space may have been the … intellectual … exercise that would have kept me sane. Oliver was there (luckily for Jason) and was a rock.

Having a teacher for a mother meant that many of the games we played as kids were of a slightly more intellectual bent. One of Alex's favourite was the word association game, and to stop myself from going crazy, I made Oliver play. He pretends that he isn't interested in my ridiculousness, but I think he likes it because he never tells me to stop. Today's game was fun. He must have taken my comment about no sense of humour to heart because he is definitely improving. He even took my teasing about him ever being a kid in good spirit. In fact, the game was going well until we got to the topic of 'Holly' - the end of fun and the beginning of awkwardness (Isn't she always?). I couldn't help but notice that Oliver's way of dealing with our predicament was to write her a letter.

I think I deserve a medal. Even though I walked behind him, I didn't read what he had to say. That deserves a medal, right? Okay, so it may have more to do with the fact that I couldn't see over his shoulder, but still, I didn't read it. I wonder what he wrote. Come back? I'm sorry? I want a divorce. (Do Presbyterians even get divorced?) Does this mean he is going to ask me for the address? No, how awkward is that going to be? Oliver said that our current circumstance gave him clarity. Clarity that led him to write to his absent wife. What clarity did the experience afford me?

After the game was over, we stirred Jason to open the box so that we could look at the contents, seeking some identification so that we could get the treasure box, and the contents of the safe-deposit box to its rightful owner (if we ever escaped the vault of course). Rita said she wanted diamonds, but I don't know, what was in the box might have been even more valuable. As we thought we might have the several hours required to read all the letters, Oliver and I began.

A few years ago, I saw a production of the play, 'Love Letters'. The two actors sit side by side telling the story of their shared love and life. It is an amazing play, but not always a happy one. As we began, I hoped that our own enactment of these letters would be more cheerful. It certainly became personal. Reading and listening to two hearts committed to paper made it impossible to remain distant from the words, and I felt myself become more entangled in the lives of Jonathan and Katherine with every letter we read.

Some phrases made it impossible to keep the letters and my own feelings compartmentalised.

'Thank you for walking into mine (my life).'

'No accident that we met.'

'The places we run, before coming home.'

Those felt like they were written for me.

Some led me to a place I did not want to go.

'Two hearts joined by a greater one cannot be broken'.

'The one you have been waiting for all your life'.

I will leave them until some time I cannot sleep.

We came to a point where we thought we had enough to identify the owners of the letters. Perhaps we should have stopped, for I certainly would not have made such a fool of myself if we had ended or recitation there. But of course, I had to let my curiosity get the better of me. We should have left Katherine and Jonathan to their imagined future. With them at home with their family or watching a baseball game. Maybe even dancing under the stars as Oliver suggested. We should have stopped, and then we would have been spared the worry of Katherine's illness, of her last plea to be the 'wife in (his) heart'.

I had kept it together. Looking into Oliver's eyes as he read had been a lifeline that kept my worry and doubt from the forefront of my mind. Katherine's fate hanging in the balance caused the fear to burst forth. I am embarrassed to say that I completely lost all decorum and composure. I was worried for her, and for me.. for Oliver and I guess Jason too. I couldn't stop my tears. I was so scared, that I didn't notice at the time that Oliver called me Shane. He almost never does that. I must have been acting like a complete baby, because he held me and shushed me like you would a child.

And then it was over. Norman and Rita came to our rescue. They figured out where we were and even got one of Norman's cousins to help free us from the vault. Postables (and cousins) to the rescue!

I learnt something valuable today. Oliver told Jason to put his heart into his work and to be happy. That really meant something to me, even if Jason didn't grow from this knowledge. I have always felt a certain pride in my work, wanting to succeed and rise through the ranks. I realised today that my ambitions have changed. I don't want to be anywhere but where I am, with the quirky postable crew. Norman said, 'Friends don't leave friend in bank vaults'. He seemed to be looking for some reassurance that we were indeed friends. Yes Norman, we are friends, and we are friends who are there for each other.

At some point today, Oliver said something like, 'What you love says a lot about who you are. Who am I then? What do I love? Who do I love? Facing your own fragility sure can make you philosophical. The first letter we read today said, 'Wherever you keep your treasure, that's where your heart will be too.' I think my heart is in the DLO, for all that I love most is there.

Diary, I am exhausted. I will tell you of Rita and the pageant tomorrow.

P.S. Why did I draw Oliver's attention to the letter he dropped? Leaving Holly metaphorically locked in a bank vault might have been poetic?