Disrupted Routine

Jason gazed across the pond from his favorite bench in the park. It was an antique and shaped to the curve of his back (unlike the newer benches in the park that were rudimentary L shapes. He stretched his arms upward, toward the tree above him, then stood up slowly. He tossed the leftover scraps of his sandwich to the 4 ducks that were circling in front of him (2 white, one brown, and one gray). "Same time tomorrow, buddies?" They continued fighting over the floating pieces of bread without acknowledging Jason. He smiled at the thought of them looking like "Hungry Hippos" swallowing white marbles. Necks lengthened and greedy mouths opened and closed until there was nothing left to eat.

Jason continued his walk out of the park and reached the bike rack. He brushed a tuft of white hair from his brow and put on his helmet. He had sold his car for extra money when his eyesight started to worsen. Retirement wasn't as glorious as he had pictured it would be. Keeping routines helped make the day feel like it had structure. After working for so many years, it felt odd not having to leave the house at a certain time each morning. His life had consisted of waking, working, and relaxing for an hour before taking a shower and heading to bed. He had never had time to date and was living his golden years still a bachelor.

He spent his early mornings drinking coffee in a local diner, and afterward, he would visit the library to participate in a non-official book club. They did not assign or read the same books for discussion. They found it more interesting to share different books to encourage or dissuade each other from reading the same book. (To Jason, this was more helpful than boastful reviews on book covers). "Descriptive but vague" was their motto (no spoilers allowed). Sometimes this could last for hours, and other times it was a short meeting. No matter how long or short these gatherings were, Jason would leave the library at 11am and head to the park to eat his lunch.

His lunchtime was a lot less restricted when it came to keeping a schedule. The park was where he came to read. Most of the time, he would be so engrossed in what he was reading, that he would feel like he was in the story. When the light would begin to fade and reading became a struggle, he would snap back into his own reality. He would bid farewell to the ducks in the pond and make a short bike ride home to catch the news. On Saturdays, he would cook large amounts of food and portion it for freezing. This was helpful on the nights that he wandered home late and hungry. After watching the news, he would shower and head for bed.

He'd wake.

He'd continue with his weekly routine.

Tuesday, after coffee and book club, Jason made his way to the park for his lunch by the pond. When he got there, he said hello to the feathered foursome and sat down. 3 of the ducks quickly joined him pondside but the gray one looked as though he could not press forward. Jason stood back up and made his way to the struggling duck. There was a fishline wrapped around his leg. Pulling out his pocketknife, he told the duck, "Let me help you or we could both get hurt". He didn't resist much at Jason's attempt to cut him free. After the gray duck joined the others, Jason tugged at the fishline to remove it from the water (he didn't want to risk a more severe injury occurring later on). It didn't budge an inch and remained snagged on something at the bottom of the pond. Jason pulled harder. He could see where the line began and realized he would have to get his feet wet if he was going to successfully remove the line.

In hindsight, it was pointless to roll up his pant legs. The water was a lot higher than he could ever have rolled them up. It came almost all the way up to the beltline of his khakis. Not knowing what kind of sharp objects could be in the water, he had decided to leave his shoes on for this venture and planned to switch up his daily routine by shopping for a new pair. He pulled the line and followed it about ten feet out from the cemented edge. It still would not budge. It was going straight down into the green, moss-covered, mud bottom. He started to kick at the bottom of the pond to uncover the line, but his vision was blocked from muddy clouds mixing with the water. He stood still a moment and let the sludge settle back down. When it did, something metal shone up at him... Jason bent down until he was chin-deep in water (thinking his shower would have to be early today), and wrestled up a tin box. The fishline was wound tightly around the box and knotted at the top. He carried the box out of the water and looked around to see if he had made an audience. Like always, no one was around nor paying attention to an old man's antics. Internet and technology had stolen children from their childhoods and parks were no longer "the place to be" for summer fun.

With the tin in hand, he hopped out of the water and walked over to the bench. He tried to open the lid but it was rusted shut. He used the tip of his pocket knife to trace around the inside of the lid and then again to pry it open. To his surprise, there was no moisture inside the box... only a plastic bag containing a little black book. The cover had no visible marks or writing on it. He opened it up and flipped to the first page.

"Rose".

That was all that was written on the first pinkish page of unlined paper. He flipped to the middle of the book.

October 20th, 1962. Dear Diary, Bobby told me to use the money to buy things for our little one and to get groceries. He had told me there is no point in having money if we are not going to spend it. I'm afraid it will draw too much attention. Every time he gives me money, I put it in the cookie jar and use my store charge account for small purchases. I know I will have to eventually pay off my debt, but perhaps by then, things will seem a bit calmer.

Jason was happily surprised to discover it was an old diary. He tossed the bread from his sandwich to the ducks, threw the rest away (he didn't dare eat it after touching it with filthy hands), mounted his bike, and rode home.

After his shower, Jason heated one of his meals from the freezer and sat down in his reading chair. There were more exciting things this evening than the news.

He read for hours about the daily lives of Rose, Bobby, and their "little one", wondering if the baby had been a girl or a boy. There was a mention of another man named Al (and from what he could gather, she despised him). He had finally reached the entry he had previously read and continued on. He could tell by her handwriting and the content of her diary, that young Rose was becoming more and more uneased.

November 5th, 1962. Dear Diary, They have caught Al! His wife and mother-in-law turned him in! I'm glad they got him, but I fear our days are now numbered. We do not go out without a disguise, but I still feel eyes upon me when I go to the market. I cannot hide indoors forever. I have to make sure I have food for my daughter.

"So it's a daughter!", he said as he read further.

November 8th, 1962. I managed to find the rest of the money that Bobby had hidden in the house. It will do us no good to have it if we are caught. I need to make sure the money is kept safe for our daughter's future. I will send it to someone I trust for safekeeping until things have settled down.

Jason turned the next page, only to discover that it was blank. Disappointed and puzzled, he tossed the diary onto the table. When he did so, a small envelope fell from its pages. He picked it up and opened it. Inside, there was a very short letter.

My dearest friend,

Please, keep this money and my diary safe until I call on you. Hopefully, I am just being over cautious and all will be fine, but just in case I need this favor of you. There is a separate envelope of money for your troubles and for being my one and only true friend.

Love,

Jackie

Jason sat in his chair for a while, thinking about all he had just learned between the diary and the letter. He thought about what had become of Rose (Jackie?) and the money. He turned out the light and went to bed.

The next morning at book club, he declared that he hadn't had time to read because of unexpected chores. The meeting ended with pats on the shoulder and quick goodbyes, and Jason watched as each of them left. Now that he was alone, it was time to solve this puzzle. He sat in front of one of the computers and opened an internet page. He typed into the search bar- "Jackie..." He paused. After a moment, he also typed "Rose 1962". Pictures of Jackie Kennedy and her rose garden popped up. He had to be more specific if he was going to find what he was looking for. After some thought, he changed his search to "Jackie Rose and Bobby 1962" and pressed enter.

Right away, his eyes were drawn to a news article about two male bank robbers and an accomplice girlfriend "Jackie Rose". He clicked on every article available and read all he could. Albert (Al) had been caught and arrested on November 4th, 1962. Bobby and Jackie Rose had been arrested on November, 10th 1962 (just 6 days later). This explained the remaining blank pages in her diary. Jason took the envelope out of the book, read it once more and, went to place it in the back of the diary. On the last page, he found a note written in a different script.

Jackie,

I hid the money. I cannot risk any more involvement. I buried it under a bench, by a tree near the pond. I carved your initials into the trunk. I wish you well.

After a quick detour to purchase a shovel, Jason made his way to his favorite bench at the park. At first, he could not see any marks on the tree. He looked several feet higher and there it was... "J.R.". He started digging.

Jason sat in his living room staring at all the old bills he discovered in a tin identical to the last. More than 50 years later, and it had remained there untouched. He didn't know why Jackie had never come for it. Perhaps she never located her friend? Perhaps her friend panicked and that was why she threw the diary into the pond? The only question on his mind now, was what to do with the money? He couldn't wait to tell his book club about his latest read tomorrow (but remember), "descriptive but vague" and no spoilers! He smiled to himself and began counting.