The Note

Her note said “your mother called, Pete’s dead.” She never was one to mince words. I wasn’t stunned at this piece of news. We’d been expecting Pete to die at any moment. I wasn’t stunned at the way she wrote it, again, she didn’t like to mince words and she knew I could handle the truth. I was, however, stunned by what she wrote it on.

Normally a note like this might be written on the back of an envelope, or a post it note, or a plain piece of paper. For those with more sensitive wives, it might even be followed by an “I’m so sorry honey.” But you’d never expect this kind of note written on a pair of pink underwear – panties to be exact. Hers, I presumed – though with her, you never could tell.

While processing the knowledge of Pete’s death, I tried to decipher the meaning of the underwear. It wasn’t that we didn’t have paper in the house. And even if we didn’t, she was one of those women who liked to leave cute love notes on the bathroom mirror with lipstick. Maybe she felt that was inappropriate in this situation. But for the life of me, I couldn’t fathom how writing it on a pair of panties was appropriate.

Solving her latest little mystery would have to wait. I called my mother and then started to pack. I neatly folded my suite, tie and shirt into my bag. Then sox and shoes. And then finally, almost forgetting, my underwear.