Fiction: Postcards from the Afterlife

Dulce Avery was spending too much time at the park, the place he named the long rider, a long stretch of land that took over two hours to walk from start to end. 
    In his forty-six years on earth, Dulce had spent almost all his time in the office and inside stuffy buildings, sitting at meetings and making more plans for more meetings. And now that he is dead, he should be traveling all over the world. But each time he thought to go elsewhere, he came back to the long rider. He preferred being here surrounded by trees, the scent-filled air and the sometimes familiar faces that came and went.
    Not once did he imagine he would get a second chance. His afterlife had certain limits and he couldn't talk to the living but he didn't mind it. He got to do what he never got time for and stay hours lingering at a place or beside someone.
    It was right after his third wife left him that he began to believe in the afterlife. Her death was immediate and sudden and he never got to see her for the last time. But a night after her funeral, he had a dream that she was living her afterlife doing the things she wanted and she assured him she was well. His daughter, Ivy, was only four then and he told her her mother left but she was living her afterlife.
    Today, Ivy came to the park again. After her recent divorce, she was easing her heartbreak by taking daily walks. She lifted her head toward the blue sky. The bright sunshine made her skin rosy. Her lips turned into a small smile.
    Dulce would have done anything to stop her from marrying the no-good Dan. That idiot wasn't good for her. He was too controlling and frequently forced her to compromise and he never believed her opinions mattered. But at least now, she was free of him.
    By noon, Ivy stopped by a food truck and brought a cheeseburger, onion rings and a hot, black tea. She ate by the table with the other customers. It was warmer than usual on this early winter's day. Ivy unzipped her coat and started on her burger. She fanned her face as she chewed.
    Dulce sent a breeze toward her. When she adjusted her loose hair, she noticed there was something sitting on her left boot. She bended down and picked up the postcard. It had an image of a cat playing with a yarn and on the other side, a message: Don't let other people ruin your play. And her name: Dulce Ivy. She looked around at other people but they were too busy to mind her. She tucked the postcard under the burger wrapper and continued eating.
    Dulce couldn't talk to the living but he could send messages. A postcard was the perfect medium but at the same time, he wasn't allowed to put his name on it.
    When she was done eating, she crumbled up the postcard along with the wrapper and cup and threw them in the trash bin. Dulce knew she might dismiss the postcard. But he had hoped she would notice the crooked handwriting, the way some of the ink were smeared because he was left-handed and often was impatient to wait for the ink to dry. 
    It grew warmer and Ivy took off her coat and carried it as she walked. After a while, she slowed her pace. Each time she came here, she always walked toward the end of the park and then walked back. She looked at every tree and took in the scents and checked out anything she took interest in. Dulce always admired how she seemed to enjoy viewing the world as if seeing it for the first time.
    Something must have clicked because Ivy suddenly turned around and rushed back toward the food truck. Had her belief in the afterlife surfaced? Perhaps she had not forgotten what he told her. That there is an afterlife after you die. That you still wander the earth for a time before going on to the next life. 
    Her eyes veered around until they landed on the trash bins. She tilted a bin, removing the cover and spilling everything out and combing through it. Then she started on the other bins. 
    She wouldn't find the postcard. If she had lingered on it and held it in her hand longer, it would have lasted longer. Dulce wished he could reproduce it again but his limited abilities meant he had to wait a few hours in between to make anything that the living can touch and see. 
    Aware that others were looking at her, she began cleaning up. No stranger deserved her explanation. Dulce always told her she never have to explain her actions to anyone, not unless it involve them. After lingering around the park for a bit, looking into every bin, she went home.
    Dulce never meant to cause her any harm. He wanted to let her know she didn't need to grieve for that idiot Dan. That it was his decision to leave her and it was the best decision he had ever made for her. But he couldn't say all that in a postcard.
    After she entered her apartment complex, she grabbed her mail from her box by the lobby and proceeded to the elevator. By the time she was in her apartment and eating dinner, Dulce sent her another postcard. 
    It had been six months since the divorce and she was still moving like a lifeless drone but at least, she had stopped sulking at home and started on her walks. Dulce thought she should have gotten a roommate but perhaps it was better for her. She didn't have to argue with anyone if she didn't do the dishes right away or anything she would have to compromise because she tended to put other people's happiness before hers.
    Before heading to bed, she flipped through her mail and paused. She dropped the others and held up the postcard. This one had an image of a little girl carrying a plastic pail and spear and beachcombing under the bright sunshine. The message was: Happiness is a treasure to be found. Ivy smiled. 
    When she was four, Dulce often took her to the beach to search for treasures. She found a lot of worthless trinkets but he brought them from her and told her they were the best discoveries she had ever made. She had such a dizzying grin when she tucked her coins into her piggy bank. He never saw a happier child.
    Before she turned off the light and got into bed, Ivy leaned the postcard against the lamp leg. The glow of the small mushroom lamp on the other side table lighted parts of her face. Dulce peered at her for a moment. It wasn't time for him to move on yet. Before he returned to the park, he left her another postcard with the message: Go make yourself happy.
     
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This month's Words for Wednesday prompts are posted here. This week's prompts are: heartbreak, cheeseburger, postcard, afterlife, beachcomb.