I work with two strange girls. I call them girls, but they are really thirty and twenty eight years old. They seem younger than they are because these two strange co workers live very restricted lived. They walk to the post office, unless it's raining or snowing and their Dad drops them off. They live together with him in an apartment located two blocks from the post office where we work. They work a couple hours a day. I mean like two. If they mind the short hours or small paycheck I wouldn't know because they don't speak to me. Let's call them Dopey and Lucky. Dopey may well be autistic. She will not acknowledge me if I say hello or good bye. She will not acknowledge anyone who speaks to her.

Dopey is very big. Round. She has around face with no personality, image a radish. She has no hobbies, no friends, receives no mail. She has never had a bill in her name. She has never written a check. She may not even own a jacket. She shows up in the same clothes often and doesn't bathe much. Why should she? She doesn't see anyone but me, and then only for an hour. She has an interesting way of filling in her time card. She says she is there from seven am to nine. The driver doesn't even arrive with the mail until eight, so I don't know why she writes down that she is there an hour early. I think it's kind of dopey to lie about something so immaterial. I've come in early, she's never there before 7:30, and even then, she comes in to look a magazines. She doesn't have any subscriptions herself so she reads what can't be delivered.

Lucky is also big. But one day recently a customer asked her if she were losing weight. Always agreeable Lucky said yes. I looked at her and realized she is getting a little smaller. I thought nothing of it, until the parcels started coming. For the first time in ten years Lucky is getting mail, addressed to her not her father. It's none of my business, but it is a little exciting to imagine this girl getting a life. Plenty of women her age are on divorce number two and this person had never been out on a date. Well this person has actually never had a conversation. She knows how to sort the mail based on the name on the box, but she doesn't know how to make a decision. Once the name does not match the box she is easily flumoxed. If it has the wrong box number on it, she returns it. Technically a correct thing to do, but kind a mean if she can tell it's a check and the box number is only a little off. Clearly because she's never had a bill herself she doesn't get how this effects people's lives.

If only I had more time to do the first class mail myself. The other day a women was at my counter in tears because her INS paperwork had been returned by Dopey and Lucky. An immigrant myself I felt so bad for her. But if the postmaster isn't willing to train them, I am not in any position to do their work in addition to mine. Recently the post master called me and told me Lucky asked for a few days off. It seems she has a "Friend" coming to visit. We suspect it is someone she met on line, because she doesn't talk to anyone. I suppose her father might be finally taking some interest in introducing her to someone, but I doubt it . He seems cheerfully unaware of how strange his two daughters are.

I consider it bad parenting what he and his wife did to them. I seen all kinds of abuse and neglect in my life but these two are in a class by themselves. They really don't seem to know anything. They can't drive, they have no manners. The Dopey one has her hair pulled back so tight in a ponytail she's a bit going bald. They area complete curiosity. Once I thought they were just shy, but now I realize how vapid they are inside, incapable of making decisions because their parents were so controlling when they were young, they just don't seem to know what decisions are based on. For example if a box is full of mail, they keep trying to stuff it in anyway. It's positively fascinating to watch. A dog has more sense. They are perhaps socially retarded or autistic.

The world may never know. I only know that if Lucky makes a break for it when her friend is here it would be nice to see her have a life away from the dad and Dopey. Other wise the rest of her life is going to be caring for the crazy sister after the dad dies. Yikes, they don't even talk to each other. I know because even though they overheard for months conversation regarding my husband who left me, the father had no idea, none what so ever. He innocently asked me one day how Howard was, and I burst into tears, my friend Barbara had to explain. So I hope it's good for her. I hope she gets away and learns to do something besides putting mail in boxes. Perhaps she's afraid of wide open spaces, or being out side, or people, or life, but she's not getting any younger.