Honestly, she should get rid of it. If she was serious about moving forward, she should take that letter and throw it in the next trash can she saw. It would do her far more harm than good. She needed to put it all behind her - all her memories of the past two years in New York. Throw that letter out, unread. The last thing she should do was open it in the middle of a crowded subway car.
"Don't do it," she told herself, as she slipped the letter out of her purse. "Don't read it, Penny. Don't be an idiot."
But the envelope was open now. The paper came unfolded in her hand.
"To Whom It May Concern...."
She wondered briefly why he hadn't typed it. Who wrote out a recommendation letter by hand? A long one, too - far longer than the standard three paragraphs she'd received from her old college professors. He hadn't even put it on the company letterhead.
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The sentences seemed predictable enough. He could have had his assistant write it and just signed his name at the bottom. Why would he bother writing it out? Why had he-
Just then, the subway car lurched back into motion, interrupting her train of thought. Penny nearly fell. She grabbed a pole to keep her balance, but she'd lost her place in the letter. She started reading it again from the beginning now, her eyes skimming over the words.
To Whom It May Concern:
It has recently come to my attention that my former employee, Penelope Stewart, has decided to apply to medical school. I would like to submit a letter of recommendation on her behalf. Penny spent two years employed as my assistant from June 2012 to July 2014. During that time, she proved herself to be competent and intelligent. I make it a personal rule only to see doctors who are as smart as I am, and she passes that test with flying colors. Moreover, her typing skills are atrocious, and her handwriting is even worse. (I assume this is the reason for her decision to go into medicine. She'll fit right in.) Above all, I would describe Penny as a dedicated employee. Dedicated to a fault. So dedicated, in fact, that she gave up an offer of admission to an excellent school in order to take care of me during a medical crisis. I can personally attest to her excellent bedside manner. She has the rare and invaluable capacity to care for others, regardless of whether they deserve her care or not.
In reading back this letter, I see that it is a truly lame excuse for a recommendation. This will most likely be of no use to Penny whatsoever. I'm sure she has no shortage of recommendations from people who are much better suited to vouch for her fine qualities. She should probably tear this letter up into tiny little pieces and burn it and forget she ever laid eyes on it. It upsets me to write that because she has done so much for me. I have wracked my brain to think of something I can do to help her in return, but I have nothing to offer but this letter. And it's pretty much just as useless as every other line of crap I've ever written her.
All I can do at this point is tell her that I support her. I'll never forget her. I'll be standing at the ready if she ever thinks of some favor I can do for her. She has a rule against favors, but she might need to make an exception in this case. Think of it less as a favor and more as a debt. God only knows what would have happened to me if she hadn't stuck around, so I'm pretty sure I owe her a lot more than just a favor.
I owe her a lot things. I owe her answers to some questions I've managed to dodge. She asked me the other day what I would have done in her place. If I would've stayed or gone to medical school. I never told her. I changed the subject. The answer is, I don't know what I would've done. I'm not sure I would have had it in me to make that kind of sacrifice. But then again, I think she might be a much better person than I am.
Anyway, I'm still dodging. That's not what I really owe her. I need to tell her something else. I've been hesitating because I don't want her to feel like she owes me something in return. She doesn't. She doesn't need to say a word. I just want her to know. File it away somewhere. Maybe take it out and look at it someday when she needs a self-esteem boost. That's all. That's the only reason I'm writing this now. I want her to know that I'm in love with her. I've written those words to her before, but she thought I was drunk. Sometimes I was, and sometimes I wasn't. I was too much of a coward to say it to her face. I want her to know I never said it because I lacked the courage. Not because she didn't deserve it. Not because it wasn't true.
So maybe that's the answer to that other question she asked me. What I would have done in her place. Maybe I do know the answer after all. I'd like to think so anyway. I'd like to think if the tables were turned, and some bad guy took a shot at her, I wouldn't have done what she did. No.
No, Penelope. I love you. If someone took a shot at you, I'd step in front of the bullet.
Sincerely,
David Powers
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