Happily Letter After(6)

Devin noticed the look on my face and said, “What does it say?”

I handed her the letter and let her read it for herself.

She handed it back to me. “What the hell are you supposed to do with this?”

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You know, you’ve really gotten yourself into something crazy here, Sadie. It’s cute and all, but maybe you should’ve stopped at the olives, you know? Maybe you write her back and nicely close things off so she doesn’t get hurt?”

“The thing is . . . I don’t write to her. I’ve only sent her things. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to start corresponding back at this point. Honestly, it’s been kind of fun brightening her days. Not sure I would change anything. I wouldn’t have minded sending her more things, either, if it made her happy. But a black horse with long blonde hair running like the wind? I just can’t make that happen.”

As much as I thought I’d meant the words I’d just spoken, the wheels in my head were already turning.



I’d never been what I considered normal. I liked my hot dogs wrapped in white bread with crushed Doritos on top, rather than on a bun with ketchup. When I’m on a date and bored, I plot imaginary escape routes in my head—often envisioning myself hurdling a nearby table or springboarding over a car in the parking lot like an action hero. And don’t even get me started on the insane lies I make up to strangers when I’m on a plane—once when I got bumped to first class, I told a woman I was a duchess of Belgium. But today, today might have taken the cake. At least I was going to have a future article in the bank—Five Ten-Minute Dates.

I’d told each date to meet me at a different location, starting at eleven o’clock.

Sam met me at Prospect Park in Brooklyn first. I’d presold each of them on the concept. We’d meet, set our phone alarms for ten minutes, and say goodbye at the beep. If either of us was interested, we’d wait twenty-four hours and send a text. If the recipient of the text didn’t respond, they weren’t interested. No fuss, no phony excuses . . . clean and simple. The only thing I hadn’t mentioned to my five Sunday dates was the reason I’d picked each place.

Anyway, Sam was cute! The smile on my face as we walked around the park was genuine. Sure, I had an ulterior motive, to write an article and do some Birdie research—two birds, one stone. But finding true love was never out of the realm of possibility. So imagine my disappointment when I started walking with cute Sam and he spit. Spit! Not like Oh my God, a bee flew into my mouth, get this thing out of here. But he hocked a loogie and power shot it onto the ground in front of us.

Ugh.

What was next? Holding one nostril and blowing his nose onto the grass?

Our date was only ten minutes. He couldn’t wait to do that? Maybe until like . . . we were married and I’d already found thirty-four special reasons to love him that overshadowed this major flaw?

Sayonara, Sam!

Date two took place at the Bronx Zoo, followed by date three at Bryant Park, then date four at Hudson River Park. Let me summarize those for you.

Dud. Dud. And dud.

I’d also not had any luck on what I’d dubbed Birdie Quest.

My fifth and final date for the day was to occur in Central Park. I was meeting Parker. I stood in front of Bethesda Fountain at exactly 5:00 pm. It was a crowded afternoon, but I didn’t see a six-foot-tall man looking around for the woman of his dreams. As I waited, I took out my phone and called up a picture of Parker to make sure I remembered what he looked like. They were all starting to blur. After a few more minutes, I sat down and began to scroll through Instagram. At 5:20, I called it an afternoon. I’d officially been stood up. Four out of five wasn’t bad, I suppose. Plus, I was anxious to check out my last stop on Birdie Quest for the day.

I walked the distance of around a dozen city blocks through the park and arrived at the ticket booth.

“Can I buy one ticket, please?”

The young kid behind the glass shook his head. “Closed. Last ride was at five. I’m just sorting things out for the day.”

I looked over at the carousel. “Could I . . . just go inside and look at the horses for a minute?”

The kid didn’t seem fazed by my request. He shrugged. “Whatever. But you’ll have to hop the fence. Security locked it up already.”

I glanced back at the carousel once again. There was a three-foot fence around it. It had been a long time since I did something like that. But hey, why not? “Okay.”

Somehow I managed to scale the fence without ripping my jeans. I started to walk around the colorful carousel, looking for what was beginning to feel more like a unicorn than a black horse with long blonde hair. I made it almost halfway around when I stopped in my tracks.

Oh my God.

There it was.

It was perfect! I clapped my hands together. Not only was it a black horse with a blonde mane, but all four of its hooves were raised in the air like it was midgallop—running like the wind.

I hopped the fence a second time and ran back to the ticket booth. The kid was just locking up the door.

“Can I please buy a ticket?”

He frowned. “Told you. It’s closed.”

“I don’t want to ride it now. I just want to buy a ticket. Two, actually.”

“I already closed out the register.”