If You Need It, Take It

The daily trudge to the train station was made worse by the lashing rain. It made a pinging sound as it bounced off the cars and splashed into puddles. Tiny little sounds that knitted together to make a cacophony. The rest of Michael’s senses were also engulfed by the rain. The cold sting on his cheeks. The scent of damp garments that hung on his clothes, how he wished he brought an umbrella to work.

The storm had been unexpected. He wasn’t the only commuter who had been caught short. Further ahead a greying man held a briefcase above his head to protect what was left of his hair. A middle-aged woman skipped like a schoolchild trying to avoid her new shoes trotting in the muddy puddles. Other’s shuffled onwards with their heads bowed, trying to ignore the weather. Michael was just one more face in this army of soaked suits. He passed by the empty hat at the beggar’s feet and into the train station entrance. No one was stopping to rummage in their pockets for a loose bit of change in this weather.

Once inside, the warm air stifled and made the damp cling. He ran his fingers through his hair and he shook the excess water onto the floor. It was not going to be a pleasant train ride home, he thought. The end of the day train on a Friday was always crammed and because his was a few stops down the journey, every seat was always filled before the train even pulled into the station. On a normal day, it was tolerable. On a day like this, it was misery. He would feel each hot breath of his fellow passenger. The only relief being the brief moment the doors would open, and a few passengers would depart. But the joy was short-lived as more passengers stepped onto the train to take their place.

Michael groaned at the thought of it as he looked up to the black and yellow departure boards. His eyes quickly scanned to find the correct platform and his heart sunk again as he read CANCELLED. NEXT TRAIN 1825.

In through his nose and out through his mouth. He repeated the mantra and let his body reduce down to a gentle simmer. Nothing he could do but accept it. Accept that the journey would be longer, accept the train would be even busier, and accept that he would be late for putting the kids to bed.

He reached into his pocket to get his cellphone. He pressed the button a few times until the little empty battery sign flickered on the screen. “Great.” He groaned and shoved it back into his pocket.

He still passed through the barriers with his ticket, as he wanted to wait on the platform, just in case, just in the slightest case a miracle might happen, and the screen was wrong.

The platforms were long and if you walked far enough away from the stairs, there was usually an empty cold metal bench you could perch on.

So, Michael walked to the far end and found a grey bench. Empty except for a little notebook. It lay in the center of the bench like it had been placed there. Michael’s eyes skirted around to see if there was any owner nearby. But no one was obvious.

Michael brushed the notebook to one side and sat on the other edge of the bench.

He placed his headphones into his ears, then tutted as he remembered his dead phone. Nothing to do but wait.

The black notebook sat patiently.

Michael breathed. He looked at his shoes. The laces were frayed at the edges and little droplets of water were forming on the ends before slowly trickling off and down the black leather sides.

The notebook did not move.

Michael picked at a loose bit of skin on the edge of his fingernail. Twiddled with a button on his cuff and stared at his shoes again.

The notebook was still there.

Michael snatched it up. Thought to himself, ‘what if it’s private? Maybe, I…But, maybe it has contact details…maybe someone’s looking for…it’s probably nothing…it’s not like I’ve stolen it…if it’s something personal, I’ll just put it back. But I should at least have a glance.’

And he pulled it open. The pages were disappointingly blank. Little ruled lines waiting to be filled. He riffled through a couple more pages, hoping to find anything that might take his interest.

The loose sheet almost passed him by completely but as he riffled past the page, it dislodged and protruded from the book, like a little page marker. He pulled back to the page and opened it.

The only bit of writing he had seen in the whole book. Small, tight, and neat. Like something from a bygone era. It looped and curled, with little exquisite flourishes of black ink. Written in the middle of the page, like a message in a greeting card.

“If you need it, take it. If you don’t need it, leave with the joy of that thought.”

Michael took the loose little leaf from the notebook, suspecting this is what the message was referring to. And he was right. As he turned it over, in his hands he realized the familiarity of the object. A cheque. Signed in the same neat writing.

$20,000. But with the name of the payee left completely blank.

Michael looked once more, was this a joke? He looked around the platform, but the world took no notice of his discovery.

He flicked through the pages once more. But there were no other clues, save for that one little message.

Surely. He couldn’t have. Had he just found $20,000? He held the cheque up to the light as if he would be able to tell it was a fake. As if he even knew what to look for. He felt silly. But he didn’t know what else to do.

Had his life just changed? Was he being duped?

He looked at the signature. Evelyn Dorfman. It rang no bells. ‘But, so what? At the very worst, the cheque would bounce, and he would be no worse off. But if…if….’

He fumbled in his pockets for a pen but came up short. He took the backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it. As his arms rummaged inside he looked once more at the note…

If you need it, take it…

‘I need it. We need it,’ he thought. ‘It’s going to get Sammy through college. Maybe even Joshua too, if they invest it wisely. Plus, they could always do with a little extra this year, just to top up the holiday pot.’

If you don’t need it, leave with the joy of that thought.

Michael’s thoughts pulled him. Just for a second. Then he found the pen. He eagerly pulled off the lid and held the cheque flat against the notebook.

‘The holiday pot. We have a holiday pot.’ Michael tried to fight the thought, but it was there. ‘Sure, Sammy needed funds for college, but they would manage. He would get a promotion in the next couple of years, he was sure of it. And Joshua hadn’t even left kindergarten.’

Michael put the lid back on the pen and rubbed at his eyes.

He checked his watch. Still enough time till the train.

And Michael picked up the notebook and made his way back up the stairs and out the barrier. He would have to pay for his ticket again. But he knew that was ok. He knew that wouldn’t break the bank.

He fought past the crowds still piling into the station and made his way to the entrance.

And there was the beggar. Hat still empty.

“Listen, I don’t know if this is fake. But, eh, I thought you could use it.”

Michael handed the notebook over with the cheque inside.

The beggar opened it up, read the note, and looked at the cheque. He was an older man, beard trimmed, and a waterproofed jacket pulled all the way around him. The hood casting a slight shadow across his face. Bur Michael could still see the suspicion in his eyes

“You know, this woman, Evelyn Dorfman?” The man looked up at Michael.

“Nope.” Michael lifted his arms as if to demonstrate how small a grasp he had on the situation.

“I don’t know her. I don’t know if she’s rich or dead or even made up. But I..well I found it on a seat at the station and I figured I had enough joy in my life to let it go.”

“Then you should have left it there. Note says to leave it there.” He stretched the notebook out back to Michael.

“It just says to leave with the joy of the thought. Doesn’t say I can’t hand it on. And I figure if you're happy enough to leave a blank cheque on a bench in a train station, you won’t mind someone bending the rules a little.”

The man smiled. “I suppose your right. Thank you.” And he took the notebook and placed it into his jacket pocket.

“Do you need a pen?” Michael asked, taking his bag off his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t know what to write.”

“You don’t have a bank account? I work in finance I could set one up. With an amount like this, you could get some excellent…” Michael said with eager enthusiasm.

The man laughed, “I got a bank account. Not much there. But I got one. This cheque ain't for me.”

“Sure, it is,” Michael interjected. “If you need it, take it. That’s what it says.”

“And I know a mom down at the shelter who’s going to need it. And I’m going to leave with the joy of that.”

Michael smiled, “But your –“

“Cap’s empty today but tomorrow the sun will shine, and I’ll get by. Don’t plan on being here too long anyhow. Now shake my hand, and if you ever meet Evelyn Dorfman, you tell her thank you and that she has the prettiest writing I’ve ever seen.”