Out For Delivery

In today's story, Out For Delivery, a casual conversation finds some feelings 

Today's prompt came up while I was waiting for a package to be delivered. Tracking information is great until it becomes a distraction you check every few minutes as your delivery get closer.

As always, this story was written from the prompt, with no planning and very little editing. If you enjoy today's story, please share it with your friends and leave a review for Freely Written. Thank you!


More about Susan Quilty

Susan Quilty mainly writes novels, including two standalone novels and her current YA series: The Psychic Traveler Society.  Susan's short stories for Freely Written are created during quick writing breaks and shared as a way to practice her narration skills before she dives into recording audio versions of her novels.

Website:  SusanQuilty.com
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Transcript

Below is the transcript for Season 1, Episode 109 of Freely Written, a podcast by author Susan Quilty:

Welcome to Freely Written where a simple prompt leads to a little unplanned fiction. 

[Light piano music]

Hi, friends! I’m Susan Quilty and today’s prompt is Out For Delivery. 

Today’s story was written on a day when I was waiting for a package to be delivered. One of those deliveries where you have to actually open the door and sign something. And you don’t know when. The estimated delivery time in the tracking information may say between 1:15 and 3:45 pm, but you know the most likely delivery time will be the exact moment something on the stove starts bubbling over or you take a chance on a quick bathroom break. 

While waiting for this delivery, I realized—not for the first time—how distracting tracking information can be. Hence the idea of making Out for Delivery a writing prompt. 

If you’re new to Freely Written, here’s how this podcast works: I sit down with a chosen prompt and free-write whatever comes to mind, with no planning and very little editing, and then I share that story with you. 

There are no rules, or specific genres. You never know what kind of story you’ll get, and you can listen to my Freely Written stories in any order. You may even be inspired to try writing your own story. 

Here’s what came up for me today:

Out For Delivery 

“Well, it says it’s nine stops away, but what does that really mean?” 

Stella squinted at the tracking page on her laptop screen while holding her cell phone near her face. Not against her ear—because she did have the call on speaker—but close enough that she knew her daughter would be able to hear her. 

“It means your package is nine stops away,” Claire told her mother, trying to suppress a sigh. Her phone was sitting on her kitchen counter, sending the call to her ears through wireless earbuds. 

“Well, yes,” Stella huffed. “But nine stops could mean anything. How far apart are the stops? Are they all in my neighborhood or are some of them across town? Nine stops could take 10 minutes or three hours.”

“I’m sure it will be more than 10 minutes.” Claire put the last dirty plate in her dishwasher, closed the door, and pressed start. She turned on the kitchen faucet and was about to flip on the garbage disposal when she paused to warn her mother that there would be a loud noise for a moment. 

“You’re always running that dishwasher,” Stella observed once the grinding noise whirred to a stop. “There are only two of you.”

“It’s more water efficient than hand washing.” 

“Oh, I know,” Stella allowed, using a voice that suggested some level of skepticism. 

Claire closed her eyes and counted to five. 

“It’s on the move,” Stella announced. “Eight stops away. I wish I knew where.”

“Is there a map?” Claire asked, then cringed, wishing she could pull the question back. 

Stella looked at the tracking page more closely. Beneath the text box that showed status updates, there was a map with her house at the center. She had thought the map was decorative, but on closer inspection, she saw there was a dot next to the words “8 stops away.”

“There is a map!” Stella zoomed in closer, panning the map to locate the dot in relation to her house. “It’s just over near Magnolia Street. You know, where Alice lives? Why didn’t you ever tell me there’s a map?”

“There isn’t always a map.” Claire tried to explain that it depended on what service was delivering the package, even if Stella was ordering from the same place, but Stella didn’t believe her.

“I guess I’ve never noticed it before,” she finally said with a sigh. “At least I know to look for the map next time.”

“But there might not be one next time.” Claire had moved into the living room and started folding laundry. She imagined her mother staring at her laptop screen and decided to change the subject. 

“Did I tell you Benny is going to Boston next week?”

“Who?” Stella looked across the room, trying to remember the names of her daughter’s friends. “Is that the new girl you hired?”

“What?” Claire looked across the room, catching sight of a wedding photo with her mother and Benny’s parents standing by their sides. “I said Benny. My husband?”

“Oh, Benny!” Stella laughed. “I thought you said Jenny. Isn’t Jenny your new shop girl?”

“No.” Claire lifted her glasses as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I think you mean Lisa, though she’s been with us about six weeks now.”

“Six weeks isn’t that long,” Stella decided. “How is she working out?”

“Lisa? She’s great. She’s running Story Hour today.”

“Really? I thought you had that, uh, flamboyant woman reading the stories.” 

Claire set down the towel she had folded and counted to five. 

“Miss Maisie still reads to the kids. Lisa is taking care of the logistics, which is great because that let me take today off, and I haven’t had a day off in weeks.”

“But you still love the bookstore, don’t you?” Stella sounded genuinely concerned, and Claire considered her answer. 

She did still love the bookstore. There were days when it was a struggle. When customers were rude, or the bathroom sink leaked, or a distributor sent the wrong shipment of books. Days when she and Robin wondered if it was still worth keeping their little bookshop going. 

Customers often said they’d always dreamed of owning a bookstore in a quaint little town. Maybe with a built-in café. Claire and Robin would smile politely at those comments, ignoring the hint about adding a café, and maybe, gently, mention that running a bookshop is as challenging as it is rewarding. Sometimes, on a hard day, Claire might also say it was tough to watch people come in to browse, then buy the same books at a cheaper price online. 

As the thoughts tumbled through her mind, Claire wondered if she was in the right headspace to have a sincere, open discussion. There were times, especially during the shop’s early days, when talks with her mother were the tonic she needed to keep going. There were also times, especially during the months of wedding planning, when her mother seemed to imply the bookshop was something Claire might not need once she had a husband. 

“Five stops away!” Stella crowed, breaking through Claire’s reverie. “I didn’t even see stops six or seven. It must be moving fast now.”

“What? Oh, your package.” Claire shook her head and picked up another towel to fold.

“Well, this can’t be right!” There was outrage in Stella’s tone, and Claire felt her shoulders tense. 

“It’s farther away!” Stella panned around the map again, comparing the truck’s current location to where she had last seen it. “It was on Magnolia, then Sycamore, which is on the way to my house. Then I missed the last two stops and now it’s all the way over on Riverside Drive. That’s the opposite direction! Why would it go there?”

“Maybe you shouldn’t keep looking,” Claire suggested. “It will be delivered when it’s delivered. Watching won’t make a difference.”

“Oh, I know that. But it was on its way here and now that truck is all the way over on Riverside Drive. I may have a word with that delivery driver when he gets here.”

“Please don’t.” Claire tried to sound calm but firm. “The drivers don’t set their routes. GPS calculates the most efficient routes, considering things like traffic lights and whether there are more left or right turns.”

“I’ve read about that,” Stella remembered, then described an article that had explained the same points Claire had mentioned. Claire half-listened as she folded three more towels. She wondered how Lisa was doing with Story Hour and whether she should offer to drive Benny to the airport next week or let him use rideshare. 

“I’ll stop looking now,” Stella said, bringing her retelling of the article to a close. “It’s not an important package anyway.”

“What’s in it?” Claire asked, realizing that Stella had never said. 

“Just a planner. One of those daily things.”

“A planner?” Claire put the last folded towel in the basket and pressed her palms into the stack of terry cloth. “We sell planners at the shop.”

There was a pause. 

“I know that,” Stella said quickly. “But this is a special planner. It tracks your mood, and sleep, and how much water you drink. Just lots of things really.”

“We have planners that track all of that,” Claire said slowly. It’s funny, she told herself, willing it to be true. Wait until I tell Robin. She’ll laugh, and she’ll know why it’s not funny, even while we’re laughing.

“Oh, I think this is different. Alice has one of these that her son gave her. You know he’s a doctor. It’s more of a health planner, not a day planner for meetings and things. I already have a calendar for my appointments.”

Claire let her go on, extolling the virtues of a planner that sounded identical to several planners they sold at the shop. 

“Did you say Benny is going somewhere?” Stella asked, the abrupt subject change jerking Claire back to attention. 

“Boston,” Claire confirmed. “For work.”

“Good for him!” Stella praised. “It’s nice to have such a successful husband. I always felt safe when your father was still alive, and now I’m lucky to have his pension and savings. Though it’s not the same as having him here.”

“I know, Mom,” Claire said gently, swallowing the lump in her throat and trying not to grit her teeth.

“Now, Claire,” Stella began hesitantly, almost apologetically. “I know I said I wouldn’t look anymore, but I really want to see where that package is now. I just can’t help myself.”

With a shaky laugh, Claire told her to go ahead and look. 

“I know it won’t change anything or get it here faster, but I do like to see what’s coming when I can. Out for delivery isn’t enough to go on. But seeing the stops, well… I guess it doesn’t really tell me when it will get here either. But it’s reassuring to see that it’s coming. To have an illusion of control, you know?”

“Yeah,” Claire agreed, wiping a tear from her eye. “It feels good to have some sense of control. Even if it is an illusion.”

The End

Thank you for joining me. Sometimes free writing brings up unexpected ideas or emotions. It’s hard to run a small business and your patronage is greatly appreciated! If you’d like to learn more about the novels I write, please visit my website: SusanQuilty.com. Or look me up wherever you buy books. 

On my website you will also now find monthly blog posts with commentary on the stories I share here on Freely Written. Links are in the show notes. 

Until next time, try a little free writing of your own. Let go of any planning and see where your imagination takes you. 

[Light piano music]