The wishful filler

The package lay on the back row of seats, unnoticed, even though it was wrapped in shimmering gold paper. Charlotte saw it as the bus slowly emptied; there were still three stops until hers. The package was elongated, and a large red bow hung limp, as if it had gotten wet.

No wonder, with this weather, she thought. Outside, the rain had turned into thick white flakes.

Charlotte stood up and sat down on the seat next to it to get a closer look. Should she give it to the bus driver? They always said if you saw something suspicious, you should report it. On the other hand, Charlotte loved Christmas and presents. But this year, Christmas would only mean a few days off. For the first time in years, she was alone. Daniel had moved out a month ago.

The red bow was the same color as the poinsettia she had bought instead of a small Christmas tree. She slid closer and touched the shimmering gold paper with her fingertips; it felt cool and smooth. Should she just take it with her? Apart from her, there were only two teenagers left on the bus, both hunched over their phones, paying no attention to Charlotte.

Over the microphone, the bus driver announced the next stop, and the teenagers got off giggling. As soon as they were outside, one of them shaped a snowball from the snow on the free newspaper box. As the bus drove off, he shot it at the window, where it splattered with a loud bang against the pane, leaving wet streaks. Charlotte flinched and wasn't paying attention for a moment. At that moment, the bus stopped abruptly, and the package threatened to fall from the seat; she instinctively grabbed it.

"You idiot, don't you have eyes in your head?" shouted the bus driver and honked again before driving on. Charlotte sat up straight, the package in her hand. It wasn't heavy; inside, she felt something rolling back and forth. At the next stop, the bus drove through and then, with a squeal, into the final stop. Charlotte got off, and only after she had walked a few steps did she realize that she still held the package in her hand.

She paused, undecided. Should she go back? But the bus driver was standing at the kiosk, talking to the kiosk owner. Should she just go back and put it back on the seat?
But what if someone just threw it on the floor and the new passengers trampled all over it?

On Christmas Eve, Charlotte lit the thick candle from the Christmas market that a customer at the store had given her. A plate of salmon sat before her, and a tiramisu awaited in the fridge. Even though she was alone, she wouldn't miss out on a festive meal.

Two hours later, the salmon, the beef fillet, and the tiramisu eaten, Charlotte leaned back, full and content. The package she had found on the bus a few days ago lay before her with a freshly tied bow. Finally, she would know what was rolling around inside. She had held it in her hands repeatedly in the interim, wondering what might be in it.

Slowly, she untied the bow and the tape, then folded the paper aside. An simple white box appeared. Charlotte opened the lid with bated breath and briefly closed her eyes. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and looked at what she had, in a way, given herself for Christmas.

Inside the box was a simple dark blue pen. Almost disappointed, she pulled it out and twisted off the cap; it was a fountain pen with a golden nib. Beneath the pen lay a small card on which was written in ornate script "Wish-(Ful)Filler".

She didn't really believe in such things, but then again, it was Christmas, so maybe it was worth a try. She hadn't written with a fountain pen since her school days.

Charlotte stood up and fetched a writing pad. The line flowing from the nib was thin and even. Fascinated, she watched as the dark blue, wet ink began to dry, making her handwriting look so much nicer than if written with an ordinary ballpoint pen. She wrote her name, made loops and circles, then tore off the sheet and began to write. She wrote and wrote.

As the church bell struck for midnight mass, she laid the fountain pen aside.

A dozen written pages lay on the table. A letter to Daniel. That same night, she took it to the mailbox before she could change her mind. The days between the holidays passed, the old year said goodbye, and the New Year came without a sign from Daniel. No call, no text, no email, just nothing.

Charlotte was therefore glad when the holidays were over and she could go back to work. By now, she had pushed the letter out of her mind. As always, the bus was empty when she got on. She sat down in her usual spot and stared out the window. The bus filled and emptied. Just before she had to get off, a voice suddenly spoke next to her.

"Is this seat free?"

"Yes, just like probably the rest of the bus," she replied without taking her eyes off the window.

"In your letter, you wished that I would sit next to you again."

Startled, Charlotte turned around. "Daniel? You, why only now?"

She looked at him; he was pale.

"The flu... I only emptied the mailbox yesterday, I..." he sneezed.

"But why didn't you call? I would have..."

Before he could reply, a voice blared from the loudspeaker.

"Last stop! Everyone please exit."

Both looked up in alarm.

They didn't notice the bearded bus driver looking in the rearview mirror and smiling. It looked as if his magical Christmas pen had once again granted someone a wish.

Written by: Monica Heinz

Website: www.monicaheinz.ch