Karma

Janet McNab swiped the pile of unpaid bills off the kitchen table in a fit of rage, crumpling to her knees as she surrendered to tears of hopelessness.

“God!” she screamed, pounding the floor with her fist, “Can’t you give me a break here? Just one damn break? Why did you do this to me, Christopher? Why?”

Janet’s twelve-year-old son, Corey, watched his mother from the doorway feeling powerless. Last year his father committed suicide, leaving his mom with debt up to her eyeballs. He knew they were going to lose the house to the bank as early as next month. Not even helping with his paper route money would be enough to dig them out and he hated his father for doing this to them. Punching the wall in frustration, he left quietly, not wanting to alert his mother that he’d witnessed her breakdown. Jumping on his bike, he peddled as fast as he could to the park, his sight dimmed by tears. Overhead, dark, tumultuous clouds sighed wind through the trees, weeping fat drops that made the leaves dance wildly. Dumping his bike by the fence, Corey ran for the nearby woods as thunder rolled a warning. Sneakers pounding the dirt path, he ran to the pavilion, his go-to thinking spot. Built over Fischer’s Creek, it was the perfect place to sit to wait out the storm, the sound of the rushing water hypnotic and soothing.

Leaning against the railing, Corey watched the water, thoughts clamoring in his head as he struggled to come up with a way to help his mom. The storm passed quickly, the wind pushing it along. Turning around to sit at the table, he was startled to see an old Asian man sitting there. Confused, he looked left and right, trying to figure out how he got there without Corey seeing or hearing him.

“How did you..I didn’t see..” Corey stammered nervously, “you weren’t here a second ago.”

Feeling himself under intense scrutiny, Corey tried to make an exit without appearing rude.

“You have troubles, young man,” he said, “many troubles. Do what’s right, all will pass.”

With that, he stood and hurried off, disappearing into the bushes as if he never was.

Spotting something on the bench, Corey yelled out, “Hey! You forgot something! Sir? You left your book!”

Picking it up, Corey held the little black book in his hands feeling an odd sense that the book was meant for him. The black leather cover felt good in his hands and eagerly, he opened it to see what was inside. To his surprise, the pages were blank except for five numbered sentences.

Give what needs to be given.

Save what needs to be saved.

Say what needs to be said.

Do what needs to be done.

Sacrifice a treasure

“What the heck is this?” he murmured to himself.

He noticed the rain let up as diamonds of sunlight shimmered on the water. Tucking the book into the back pocket of his jeans, he ran back to the park to grab his bike before it was stolen. His dad bought it for him on his tenth birthday and it was his pride and joy. At the edge of the woods by the park, his heart almost stopped when he looked at the empty space where he’d dumped his bike. Looking up, he spotted a young boy by the swings sitting on it as he talked with another child.

“Hey!” Corey yelled, running over, “Hey kid! That’s my bike!”

Grabbing the handlebar, Corey glared at the younger boy ready to fight if he had to.

“Do you always take things that don’t belong to you?” he asked as the boy reluctantly got off the bike, “I wasn’t even gone that long!”

“I’m s-s-s-suh, sorry, the child stuttered, “I thuh, thuh, thought it was a-abaaaadoned.”

Corey instantly felt pity for the boy, noticing his too-small clothes and worn-out sneakers.

“What’s your name, kid?” Corey asked him, “You from around here?”

“My name is K-K-Kevin,” he answered, kicking the dirt with his foot, “I live over there.”

He pointed at the building near the school that everyone knew was for low-income families. Corey was torn between wanting his bike and pity for the younger boy. He remembered number five in the black book, ‘Sacrifice a treasure’, and made up his mind.

“You know what kid?” he said, “Keep the bike. It’s getting too small for me anyway.”

Seeing the boy’s eyes light up with joyful disbelief filled Corey’s heart with happiness. He didn’t even feel bad about losing a bike. Giving Kevin a wave, Corey headed over to the corner store for a soda. At the crosswalk, he noticed an old lady with a walker trying to cross. It was busy this time of day with people returning home from work and to his horror, he watched as she stepped off the curb into oncoming traffic. Without thinking twice, Corey bolted forward grabbing the back of the woman’s sweater, yanking her backward out of the way of a bus that would have hit her head-on. Witnesses screamed as Corey and the woman tumbled to the ground, the bus missing them by less than an inch.

“Are you okay, son?” a man helped him up as others assisted the woman who escaped without even a scratch.

Wincing at the scrapes on his knees, Corey assured the man he was okay as he stood up to check on the old woman.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” he asked, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock you down.”

Rearranging her wrinkles into a broad smile, she reached a gnarled hand up to his face. “Sonny, thank you, and remember, your troubles will soon be gone.”

Although Corey heard people congratulating him for his brave act, he barely heard them as he walked into the store to get his soda. His thoughts were on the book in his pocket. He wondered if his day was going to get any stranger than it already was. Grabbing his soda he walked up to the front to pay, standing behind a young mother of three.

“You’re short by five dollars, ma’am,” the cashier told her apathetically.

“But this is all I have and I really need this stuff,” she told him, “Can’t I put it on a tab?”

“Nope, my boss will fire me,” the cashier said, “Now, what do you want to take off, the milk? Diapers?”

Bursting into tears, the woman pointed to the milk and eggs.

“Wait!” Corey intervened, “Wait. I’ll cover her.”

“You ain’t gotta do that, kid,” the cashier said, “If she ain’t got it, she ain’t got it.”

“You’re a real sweetheart,” Corey told him, “You should work in politics.”

Paying him, Corey put the soda back and went outside where the woman was waiting for him.

“Listen,” she said softly, “I really appreciate what you did for me in there. I was ready to believe there wasn’t one kind person left in the world, thank you.”

“No problem, ma’am,” Corey blushed, “Soda will rot my teeth anyway.”

Walking home, Corey went in through the garage and remembered his mother asked him to take out the garbage. Groaning, he knew it was going to be a job because he didn't do it last week. Getting to work, he lugged ten bags out to the curb, wondering how just two people could make so much trash.

Entering the house through the foyer, he found his mother still crying at the kitchen table. He wondered if she’d even got up since he’d left. Her sobs were deep, ragged, and Corey got a sudden revelation of their origins. Standing behind her, he wrapped his arms around his mother and spoke softly in her ear.

“It wasn’t your fault, mom,” he said, “Dad did this because he was weak, not because of anything you did. He just couldn’t handle life itself and made a choice without thinking of how it would affect us. It’s not your fault!”

Janet stopped crying and looked at her son with wonder.

“How did you get to be so wise, Corey?” she smiled through her tears, “I thought you blamed me, but you’re right. He made a choice.”

“Hey, mom,” Corey said, looking down, “You dropped a piece of mail on the floor, right there under your right foot.”

“Oh, I did?” she asked, “Now how in the world did I miss that?”

Picking up the envelope, she looked at the return address.

“It’s from a lawyer,” she groaned, “Now what?”

Opening it, she read the contents and Corey watched her face turn ghostly white.

‘What is it, mom?” he asked, “What’s it say? More bad news?”

“Corey,” her voice shook with emotion, “My aunt Katherine died yesterday.”

“Aw, mom,” Corey put his arm around her, “I’m so sorry. Just what you need right now.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” she told him, “I didn’t know her well. But according to this letter, apparently, she not only left us her home on the coast but also a sum of $20,000! Corey! Do you understand what this means? We’re saved!”

Turning in the chair to look up at her son, she was puzzled to see him staring off into space, deep in thought.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked, “Didn’t you hear me? We’re saved!”

He sat down and looked at her, pulling the little black book out of his back pocket and setting it on the table for her to look at. He explained how the man showed up out of nowhere and left the book on the table at the pavilion. He showed her the five sentences.

“Now listen to what happened on the way home,” he told her, “and you tell me what you think.”

Corey started with the boy who took his bike, then the old woman he rescued, the woman in the store, the garbage in the garage, and lastly, the words he spoke to her as she was crying.

“My God, Corey,” she breathed, “You did all five things listed in the book! How is this even possible?”

“I don’t know, mom,” Corey said, “but whatever it is, our prayers are answered. We’re going to be okay.”

“You know what I think?” she told her son, “I think that old man was an angel in disguise. I think maybe he was sent here by your dad. Maybe to make up for the mess he left us. What do you think?”

Corey smiled because secretly, it’s what he was thinking, too. Nodding in agreement, he hugged her, feeling his heart healing along with hers. Life was finally going to be good.