EPISODE 4: THE PACKAGE 📦
922 Words
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Day 4.
I wasn’t expecting anything.
That’s why when the delivery guy knocked at 11:30am, I almost didn’t answer. I was in pajamas, hair in a bun, halfway through cold tea.
"Morie Phiri?" he asked.
"Yeah?"
"Package for you."
It was a small box. No note on the outside. Just my name, my address, and a Toronto return label.
My stomach did a weird flip.
I carried it to the couch and just stared at it for a full minute. Tariq and I hadn’t talked about sending things. We were 4 days in. Too early, right?
I opened it.
Inside:
1. His grey hoodie. The one he wore at the airport. It still smelled like him, faintly.
2. A bag of Tim Hortons coffee. "For your terrible tea habit" was written on a sticky note.
3. A Polaroid. Him, in the tiny apartment, holding up two fingers. Behind him on the wall was a piece of paper that said "Day 4".
4. A small folded paper.
I opened the paper last.
_Hey you,_
_The apartment is too quiet without your voice in it. I kept reaching for the hoodie and it wasn’t there. So I’m sending it to you. Wear it when you miss me. Drink the coffee when you miss me. Look at the photo when you miss me._
_182 days is long. But we’re doing it one day at a time._
_Call me at 9pm. I have something to tell you._
_- T_
I cried. Not a lot. Just enough to make the ink on the note smudge a little.
I put the hoodie on immediately. It was too big and warm and it swallowed me. I made the Tim Hortons coffee even though I had no idea how and it tasted burnt and perfect.
At 2pm I texted him.
*Me: I got it. You idiot.*
*Me: I’m wearing the hoodie. It’s huge. I love it.*
*Me: 9pm. Don’t be late.*
*Tariq: Was worried it wouldn’t get there fast.*
*Tariq: Wear it to bed.*
*Tariq: I’ll be there at 8:59. Promise.*
The day went fast after that. Having his hoodie on made the house feel less Tariq-empty. I caught myself talking to it. "He sent you, huh?"
At 8:55pm I sat on the couch with the hoodie, the coffee, and the Polaroid on the table in front of me.
8:59pm.
His face popped up.
He looked... nervous. Excited.
"Do you like it?" he asked before I could even say hi.
"I love it," I said. "You’re an i***t for mailing your only warm hoodie in Toronto."
"I have another one. And I wanted you to have something of mine."
He looked around his room like he was checking if it was clean enough.
"So," he said. "I have news."
My heart jumped. "Good news or bad news?"
"Good news. I think." He ran a hand through his hair. "My boss said if this contract goes well, they might extend it. Or offer me something permanent."
The words hit me.
Permanent.
"Permanent in Toronto?" I asked carefully.
"Maybe. Not decided. It’s just... an option they mentioned."
I nodded. Picked at a loose thread on the hoodie sleeve.
"That’s... big," I said.
"It is. And I told them I need to talk to you first. Because it’s not just me."
Something warm spread in my chest.
"You told them about me?"
"I told them about us. That I didn’t move here alone."
We were quiet for a second.
"I don’t know what I think yet," I admitted. "6 months I can count. Forever is..."
"Scary," he finished. "I know. I’m scared too."
"But?"
"But I also keep thinking, what if we’re good at this? What if 6 months turns into us figuring out how to be together, just in a different way?"
I looked down at the Polaroid. Day 4.
"We’re 4 days in," I said.
"And we haven’t killed each other yet," he joked.
"True."
"Can we not decide anything now?" he asked. "Can we just... do 6 months first? And then see?"
"Yeah," I said. "6 months first. One day at a time."
He smiled, relieved. "Okay. Deal."
"Deal."
We spent the rest of the call talking about small stuff. I showed him how the hoodie fit. He showed me his new mug that said "World’s Okayest Employee." I told him the coffee was terrible. He said he knew.
At 9:45pm he yawned.
"You look cute in my hoodie," he said.
"You look tired in Toronto."
"Fair."
"Same time tomorrow?"
"Same time."
"Don’t send me anything else yet. My heart can’t take it."
"I make no promises." He grinned.
We hung up.
I kept the hoodie on. I put the Polaroid on my fridge. I put the empty coffee bag in my drawer like it was something precious.
In my notebook:
_Day 4: He sent me his hoodie. He might stay in Toronto. We decided not to decide yet. 178 days to go._
At 10:30pm another text.
*Tariq: How’s the hoodie?*
*Me: Warm. Smells like you. Miss you in it.*
*Tariq: Miss you in it too. Save me a spot.*
*Me: Always.*
I fell asleep on the couch. Woke up at 2am and went to bed, still in the hoodie.
Day 4 felt different.
It wasn’t just calls anymore.
It was a piece of him in my house.
It was the possibility of more than 6 months.
It was scary and hopeful and real.
And somehow, the package made the distance feel a little smaller.
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to be continued...*
- Writer
