Tad tripped his way into my living room. I motioned for him to sit on the sofa, while graciously ordering him to sit, saying, “Sit.” As if he were a golden retriever rather than a, um, a Tad.
“Look, Tad, I didn’t send you this letter so I’m wondering who did and why. Did you write it as maybe some kind of ploy?”
“Ploy?” he queried.
“Yes, ploy, you know, ploy – as in a ploy to conspire to meet me or some such thing.”
“Why would I want to meet you?”
“Thank you, Tad.”
“No, I didn’t mean I wouldn’t want to meet you.” He blushed again. “I just meant I didn’t conspire or ploy or any word like that….”
“So when did you get this?” I persisted with “w” questions.
“Today – in the mail – I thought it was unusual to even get a personal, handwritten letter like that. People don’t correspond much in handwriting any more. Then when I read it – well, it was too strange.”
I looked over the letter again. Dear Tad it began. “Who would name someone Tad anyway?” I muttered. I said that out loud, which, in my own defense, was not deliberate.
“Beg your pardon?” he spoke rather peevishly, I thought, as though I’d hurt his feelings.
Maybe I actually did hurt his feelings. After all, it’s wasn’t his fault his name was Tad. My turn to beg his pardon. “I’m sorry. It’s just – I mean, Tad? Is it short for something?” All I could think of was tadpole, which I didn’t say out loud in case you’re judging me harshly.
“My Mom loved Tab Hunter, the actor,” he explained. “But she wasn’t crazy about the name so she reversed the “d” and now I am Tad. Is that why you lured me over here with this letter? To mock my name?” He smiled an engaging smile so I smiled back.
The phone rang. We both jumped. I noticed the light blinking on my machine as I grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hello, Daisy Monrod?” The caller butchered my name unmercifully. “This is a courtesy call from your platinum Visa and we would like to offer…”
“No!” I interrupted, not now. I have a situation here that money won’t fix but thanks for thinking of me.”
“But Ms. Monrod, if you have just five minutes….”
“I have to hang up now but please don’t take it personally.” I pushed the play button as I hung up on courtesy guy and listened to the message.
This message is for Dagny Monroe. I assume you’ve received my letter
and I’m hoping we can discuss it in person. Please call me at 664-6007
to set up an appointment. Good day.
Good day? Who says good day?
“Who says, good day?” Tad asked.
“I know – what is that about?” I liked that Tad got how odd that was.
“So you got a letter today?” He continued.
“Yep, and it’s almost as absurd as the one I didn’t really send to you.”
“May I see it? The letter you received?”
I retrieved it for him. I needed an ally and it could be that Tad was the one. Assuming he wasn’t my arch nemesis – an expression I have never uttered before in my life.