Fan Courier

The story was originally written in Romanian for Creative Writing Sundays on the theme „the pandemic in the rural world”, and was selected by writer Marin Mălaicu-Hondrari to be published in Revista de povestiri (click here for the Romanian version).

The Fan Courier van slowed down and pulled over in front of the wooden gate. Dutifully following protocol, Father Virgil took out the medicinal mask from the glove compartment, adjusted the patch of blue fabric over his white beard, put on the tight rubber gloves and picked up the parcel from the seat next to him. Holding it at a distance, he read the name on the label one more time: Maria Josan. He didn’t need to see the address. This was his village. He had known Mama Măriuța for over forty years, since she had baptized her first child and she was pregnant with her second. Now her boys were all grown up and living in Germany and kept sending her packages.

The parcel under his arm, Father Virgil got out of the van, jumped over the ditch at the edge of the unpaved road and pushed open the gate.

“Mama Măriuța,” he called out into the empty courtyard.

An old woman came out of the house wiping her hands on a dirty towel. She was wearing a black head kerchief and a pair of glasses with lenses so thick that her enlarged eyes barely fit inside the bright violet frames (probably another present from her children).

“Good day, father.”

“God bless you, Mama. I have another package from your children.”

“God give them health.”

“Amin,” said Father Virgil cheerfully.

“How are you, father?”

“Thank God, I can’t complain.”

“How is the new job?”

“It’s going well, very well,” said Father Virgil quickly. “Before, I used to bring the word of God, now I bring His gifts, for everything comes from the Lord…”

“Amin,” said the old woman piously.

“Before, I was in the business of deliverance, now I’m in the business of delivery,” said Father Virgil laughing. “I’m still doing His will.”

These weren’t exactly his words. He had heard them spoken by George, his sister’s son, and was now repeating them at every house to show his former parishioners that there existed a link between his old life as a priest and his new occupation.

Ever since he realized retirement was close, Father Virgil had started to worry. His parish was small: four scattered villages at the foot of Apuseni mountains, none of which counted more than a hundred souls. There were hardly any weddings or baptisms anymore, only occasional funerals, and Father Virgil often held mass in an empty church. Still, it was better than sitting at home all day doing nothing. Plus he was healthy, he had his strength, it was a pity to waste them. So he was glad when George, who had worked as a truck driver, then got himself a job as a Fan Courier delivery man, told him they were still hiring. Since the pandemic, a lot of city people had moved back to villages and they were ordering all sorts of stuff off the Internet, so the demand for delivery men had gone up.

“Sign here,” said Father Virgil handing the old woman a clipboard with a pen and paper attached to it.

“I nearly forgot,” said the woman after Father Virgil had given her the parcel. “The package you brought last time, father, the boys say they didn’t send it.”

Mama Mariuța went inside the house and returned with an black unsealed bag. The corners of a box were poking out through the thin plastic.

“They told me to give it back to you, maybe you can take it to the right address.”

“Is that so?” said Father Virgil frowning.

He took the box and started turning it on all sides, looking for the label.

“I see it says here for Maria Josan,” he read.

“Yes,” agreed the woman, “but it’s a different address.”

The priest frowned even harder at the package.

“On the label is says 37 Main Street, but this is 87 Main Street,” said the woman helpfully.

“Is there a Maria Josan living at 37?”

“Maybe it’s the daughter of Costel, the son of my brother in law, Aurel. Her name is Maria. I’ve seen that she’s come here for the pandemic. Maybe it’s for her.”

The priest put the package under his arm.

“Alright, then, Mama Măriuța. Stay safe.”

“Father, let me ask you a question,” said Mama Măriuța looking at him through her magnifying glasses. “Why do you think Costel’s girl needs such a small harness? I know Aurel has sold off his horses since the 90s.”

Father Virgil slammed the door to the van, then looked out the window to make sure Mama Măriuța had gone back in the house. Then he reached inside the bag and removed the box. Inside, wrapped in red paper, was a tangle of black leather straps, thin, shiny and strewn with silvery studs. His heart started racing. He shoved the lid back on, flinged the box on the seat next to him, made three signs of cross and kissed the small icon of the Holy Virgin Mary that he had hanging from the rearview mirror.

He had only heard of such things, it had never occurred to him that he would come across them in real life. No later than Christmas dinner, George, together with Father Virgil’s youngest son and their wives, had talked about a film they had all seen at the mall in Cluj, fifty shades of darkness or something like that, in which they were shown all sorts of filth, how the wife and husband, forgetting the commandments of Christian love, would torture each other with straps, chains and whips, and claim that they liked it. “What in God’s name am I to do now?” said Father Virgil begrudgingly eying the box.

His first thought was to discard the parcel in the nearest forest — but what if one of the shepherds found it? — or an old woman? — or, God forbid, a child? No, it was better to take it home and put it on the fire himself, to make sure he rid the world of such a pest. But then he remembered an even bigger pest. If the parcel had been sent through Fan Courier, that meant that Robert, the boy at the warehouse, had made a note of who had been assigned to deliver it; it meant that the recipient had received a text message saying she was supposed to receive the package two days ago; it meant that it was enough for her to call and make a complaint with the company and Father Virgil would be in trouble. And Robert, a toddler with barely a stubble, and an outsider on top of all, was capable of telling Father Virgil off in front of everyone again, as if he were a child. Plus it wasn’t the first time he had got mixed up and what would people say if word got around that Father Virgil hadn’t been able to keep his job?

Ria heard a car passing down the road, then an engine stop. She raised her head from the hammock and saw, through the trees, a white van pulled over in front of the gate. She placed the laptop on the stool next to the hammock, pulled a beach dress over her swimming suit and started barefooted on the grassy path.

“Good day, Măriuță.”

Ria slowed down, taken aback by the familiarity of the delivery man.

“It’s me, Father Virgil,” said the man briefly pulling the mask from his face.

“Oh! Good day, Father,” said Ria cheerfully and resumed her walking.

Father Virgil was waiting for her under the wide awning at the front of the house. He had his mask dutifully on, a Fan Courier cap and a black parcel under his arm. Ria stopped on the path, about two metres away from him. She crossed her arms and smiled.

“I thought I heard my cousin Bogdan mention something about you changing professions.”

“What can we do, Măriuță? It’s the times. Before, I was in the business of deliverance, now I’m in the business of delivery, but I’m still doing His will.”

Ria laughed politely.

“How are you, Măriuță?” continued Father Virgil in a warm manner.

Ria smiled.

“No one’s called me that since my grandmother. Everyone just calls me Ria now.”

“Is that so?” asked the priest distracted. “Alright, Ria.” Then, looking her up and down and nodding slightly: “You’re all grown up now. It seems like only yesterday you were coming to church with you grandmother and hiding behind her skirts. I remember you always used to have these pretty white ribbons…”

“You’ve got quite the memory, Father…”

“She was a good woman, your grandmother,” said Father Virgil following his trail of thought. “Good and God fearing, may she rest with the righteous. Do you go to church?” he asked a bit abruptly.

Ria hesitated.

“Not every Sunday, but…”

“That’s good, that’s very good, you must go every Sunday. Your grandmother planted the seed, now we must watch it and make sure it grows.”

“Yes, Father,” said Ria a bit confused.

Father Virgil looked around the courtyard. He eyed the hammock at he back of the orchard.

“Have you been here long?” he turned to Ria. “I haven’t seen any car in front of your gate. I didn’t even know there was anyone living here.”

“I arrived with my boyfriend a few days ago. But he had something to take care of in Cluj, so he’s taken the car. He’s coming back tonight,” she added quickly.

“Boyfriend? You’re not married?”

“We want to, but it’s all in God’s timing,” said Ria smiling.

“That is true.” The priest nodded solemnly. “May God give you a good earnest boy”.

“Thank you,” said Ria.

Father Virgil didn’t say anything more. He looked through the window, trying to make out the inside of the house through the dark red curtains.

“You said you have a parcel for me?” asked Ria taking a step forward.

Popa Virgil removed the package from under his arm and looked at it as if it had appeared there by miracle.

“Ah, yes. There was a little mix up. It was delivered by mistake at Mama Măriuța up the hill. You two have the same name. I think you’re related.”

“We are,” nodded Ria.

“Yes…” said Father Virgil continuing to look through the window.

“Do I need to sign anything?” asked Ria.

The priest handed her the clipboard with the pen and paper. The girl leaned in, took the clipboard with the tips of her fingers, propped it on her bent knee and signed it. She gave it back.

“You can leave the package there.” She pointed to a spot by the door.

Father Virgil bent down and hesitated with the package in hand.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he said straightening himself, the package still in his hand. “But what do you need that small harness for?”

Ria started.

“Harness?”

“Yes, harness. I didn’t open the package, God forbid. That’s none of my business and it’s also against the rules,” said father Virgil quickly, “but Mama Măriuța opened it, I told you there was a mix up with the delivery, and she told me.”

“Oh, that harness,” said Ria cheerfully. “It’s for the ponies.”

Father Virgil’s eyes bulged above his mask.

“Ponies?”

“Yes, my boyfriend has some land near Sibiu, at Dumbrăveni, and he’s thinking of growing ponies there. There is a horse farm near-by, so if people are already coming there to ride horses, he was thinking it would be a good idea to have their children ride ponies. He probably ordered the harness and forgot to tell me.”

“Oh,” said Father Virgil relieved. “That’s good. That’s a good idea actually. It’s all good then… Unless… the harness is not the right kind. It would be a pity to waste the money. You should check.”

“Father, my boyfriend put in the order, he knows what he needs, it’s none of my business…”

“If there’s anything wrong with it, you can return it. You might as well look, since I’m already here…”

“But the return has to be done online anyway…”

“But I still need to come for the package. And I’m already here. It’s going to save us both time…”

“But I really don’t know anything about harnesses,” said Ria, her voice suddenly shrill..

“What’s there to know?” asked Father Virgil gently. “You’ve seen horses. You grandfather had horses, I’ve had horses… I’ll help you.”

He handed her the package. The girl smiled, but only with her lips. Her face had gone pale.

“Since I’m already here, I might as well help…”

Ria took the package and, keeping the required distance of a metre and a half, walked over to the wall of the house, where she removed the box from the bag and put it on the pile of firewood stashed by the wall. She opened the lid and removed the red paper.

“Take it out of the box. You can’t tell just by looking at it in the box.”

Using two fingers, Ria pulled it out: a thin shiny strap of black leather that had other straps attached to it with silvery studs. They looked like human ribs and they were about the same size.

Ria looked at it in horror.

“Father,” she said slowly nodding, “I think you’re right. This can’t possibly be for ponies. We’ll return it.”

“See, Riuță? What did I tell you?” said Father Virgil all cheered up. “See what a good thing that I made you check?”

“Lucky you were here, father.”

“See how God works?”

“Yes, father.”

“Sign here for return.”

Ria signed in a different table. Father Virgil packed the box. He was smiling contently.

“Stay safe and God bless you,” said the priest heading for the gate with a buoyant step. He jumped over the ditch, got in the van, slammed the door.

Ria watched over the fence as the van disappeared from sight. She could feel her cheeks burning. She sat down on the doorstep, took out her phone from the pocket of her dress and wrote a text message: “babe, return those toys you ordered”.

She put the phone back in her pocket. Then she took it out again.

“And then place the order again. Same one 🤦‍♀️😏🐴”