A Humble Wish

I was running late to meet my girlfriend. It was a little after 12:45am the day before my birthday, and I told her I was going to be late. I didn’t get a change to tell her just how late it would be. My damn phone died again; the thing was so old and it had been dropped countless of times. I knew where she hid her key though, so I wouldn’t have to wake her up to come over if she was asleep. I got out of the Uber ride and ran up the ten steps of her Brownstone to get to her front door. I grabbed the key from inside the fake rock she had tucked under the fake fern, unlocked the door and returned the key to its hiding place. I lightly knocked as I entered, just in case she was awake.

As I entered the foyer, I notice that some of the lights were on, but they had been dimmed. I never even knew that they did that! I heard a muffled voice from upstairs. It was a little hard to hear, but it sounded like someone said “more wine!” I figured it was the sister who always brought strangers over. She loved her wine.

I climbed the stairs as fast as I could, which wasn’t very fast at all. I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep. The work I had to do that day was a very detailed art restoration so my back ached and my eyes burned. As I reached the bedroom, I opened the door as slow as I could so that the hinges wouldn’t squeak.

I’m sure you could have guessed where this was headed. Yeah. It wasn’t the sister who brought a stranger over demanding more wine. It was my girlfriend who brought her ex-boyfriend over. I didn’t see much, but what I did see was enough for me to leave without a word. I mean, what would be the point?

On my way out, I stop in the kitchen and saw that there was, indeed, an unopened bottle of wine left on the counter; so I grabbed it and walked back out front. I locked the door and dropped the key down a random storm drain while I walked towards my apartment. Sure it was petty, but it made me feel a little better.

I took a detour to Chinatown to get a convenience store dinner full of preservatives and sodium, and to ask them to order me a cab. I was going to walk the entire way, but I just didn’t have it in me. Plus, why would I punish myself for how tonight turned out? I’m not the cheater.

I was a few yards away from the convenience store when I notice a tall Indian man with a thick salt and pepper beard, dressed in very fine kurta. He was speaking to a boisterous and very intoxicated group of young ladies in front of a vacant storefront. I heard one of them shout “a trillion dollars,” and they all started cheering. The man lightly tossed the black book at their arms which then landed at their feet. Once the book hit the ground, the rowdy group of girls stopped talking at once and walked away without a sound. The man then picked the black book up and stood still with a light grin. Weird.

I was about to pass the man when he stopped me. “Excuse me, young man,” he said with his very calming voice. “What do you wish for at this moment?”

Usually, I wouldn’t have even stopped. You never interact with people on the streets. It’s a known fact if you live in this city. But something about him compelled me to do so. I don’t know what it was, but I became very relaxed and content. His intonation reminded me of chamomile tea with a hint of honey. My eyelids might have even settled down a bit.

I took a deep breath and sighed, giving it a very quick thought. Then I said, “I just found my girlfriend with her ex after a very long day at work. Honestly, sir, I wish that I could wake up in my bed, tomorrow morning, after a good night’s rest.”

“Ah,” the man replied. “A humble wish.”

“And!” I interjected. The man’s eyebrows shot up and tilted his head with curiosity. I lowered my voice and said “I wish you a very good night.” While I handed him the unopened bottle of wine.

The man gave me a content smile as he took the wine, and touched my arm with his black book. Then everything went black.

The next thing I knew, I heard traffic outside, and smelled burning toast from the kitchen. I was in my bed. I was definitely a little disoriented, but maybe it was from the deep sleep I finally got, since I don’t know how long!

I grabbed my phone which was plugged in and fully charged. I saw the text message I was supposed to get from my, now, ex-girlfriend. “Stay at work as long as you need to. I’ll just see you tomorrow for your birthday. I’m going to sleep now.” There were more messages, but I didn’t feel like reading them. I got out of bed and set the phone back down on the nightstand, and there was the black book from last night!

I stared that the unassuming, yet suspicious thing. I grabbed a paint brush from my desk and used the butt of it to flip over the cover. Nothing evil so far. I used my hand to flip the next page and saw that there was some writing. Reading it under my breath, it said:

“You are the proud owner of this book for the next 168 hours. The book will only work for the worthy individual. Twenty thousand is only for you. Spend it how you see fit.”

“Twenty thousand dollars?” I asked myself. I flipped through the pages and saw that there were journal entries and drawings throughout the rest of the notebook. I read several stories and looked at many drawings and paintings. Some images were of people looking very happy, while others looked sad and alone.

I eventually started to casually flip through the pages until I arrive at the back of the book, and there was a large stack of twenty dollar bills. Twenty thousand dollars in total, to be exact. I stared at the stack of money in disbelief for several minutes, while thinking of all the possibilities.

“I can finally hold an art show,” I thought to myself. “I’ll rent a space and finally display all of my pieces in my very own art show! This could be how I can finally get my name out there!”

The more I thought about it, the clearer it was the right path for me. I was ecstatic! I’ve always wanted to be an artist full-time, and now, with this incredible gift I was able to pursue it.

I closed the little black book shut and held it up to touch the top of the cover to my forehead and closed my eyes. “Thank you,” I whispered. Time to start working on my dream.