A statistic

I’m sitting on the bathroom floor staring at a dusty hairspray bottle that rolled behind the toilet. I can feel the knot in my stomach as I walk over to the sink and see the two pink lines. I can feel the sweat forming at my temple. My heart is beating in my ears.

Main priority is work. I put on my uniform and start my two mile walk. Minimum wage, but any pay is a blessing. Some nights two, three people come in and other nights it’s even slower. Stomach is still in knots, but I’m bolting down the street to punch in on time.

I whip off my coat and take my first customer. This man was either in a hurry or paranoid. Standing up and looking around the empty restaurant. He asked for a coffee, but before I could bring out the pot he was gone. Left a $20 bill on the table and hurried out the door. Strange, but for this area not very out of the ordinary.

I begin cleaning up when I notice a book bag under the table. Has this been here? Was it the previous customers? I didn’t recall seeing the man rummage through a book bag or even walk in with one. Regardless, I take the bag to the back room. After picking it up I realize that it’s very heavy. What is in here? I am too curious not to figure it out. I slowly unzip, peek in and see money. Not $100, not $200, but stacks of bundled up $100 bills. There has to be $10,000 in here. I can hear my heartbeat once again in my ears.

My entire shift I cannot stop thinking about the bag. I put it under my coat and waited for someone to come in and claim it. How could someone not realize that they forgot their book bag filled with cash? I’m praying that this is a blessing, a sign. I’m hoping this is the universes way of telling me this is how everything will be all right. This is my break.

It’s midnight. We’re closing and the bag is still here. Before anyone may notice I wave goodbye and throw the book bag over my shoulder. I wait for the bus to avoid walking and drawing attention to myself. I don’t look up. I sit in the first seat behind the bus driver and keep my head down. I study everyone’s shoes as I clutch the bag on my lap praying no one recognizes it. Finally, my stop has arrived and my home is only two blocks away.

I empty the bag onto my bed. I stack $1000, $2000, $3000 and finally end at $22,000. This is my new life. This is how we survive. I waste no time. I take nothing with me besides the bag and my little black book. The little black book that I’ve had my entire life. From foster home to foster home, I’ve always had my book. A little black book filled with my transitions from the scared little girl I once was to the still scared, but more confident adult I am now. This little black book will be given to my child and it will be a story of redemption. It will be a story of a miracle. It will be the story about how I started our lives.