Mad Money

Tap... Tap... Tap... Tap

Jolting awake I sat straight up in bed struggling to recognize my surroundings. “Jaysus” I mumbled gripping my swollen face. I was still getting used to my new apartment and the unfamiliar sounds didn’t help my cause. Tap... tap... tap... Where was that encessent tapping coming from?? Ugh no bother probably another leak from my luxurious digs, I figured another 5mins before a search couldn’t hurt. Rubbing my eyes and yawning loudly I fell back into my bed sinking into my hangover and what was proving to be the most uncomfortable mattress I had ever slept on. “Free is free I suppose, thank you Nana.” I mermered. What was I expecting from an inherited mattress on a floor that was probably 30 years old. The springs sung squeaky hymns with every movement. Almost oddly comforting reminding me of my childhood summers spent at her house.

Staring up at the cracked ceiling I contemplated my life’s existence, “ugh the price of freedom” I mumbled to myself rolling over on my side. The mornings were the hardest, not only because I was newly alone for the first time but because I still hadn’t settled into my new surroundings and choices. I suppose a cup of tea will make me feel better, I thought. Well 3 Tylenol and a cup of tea will do.

It was day 5 of my new found freedom after 12 years of living someone else’s life. Charmed perhaps but only to those looking in from the outside. The pandemic made it difficult for me to ignore all the flaws and though it was difficult leaving, choosing myself was the best decision I had ever made. We had grown apart over the years and I moved through life at my partners pace. Ignoring my wants and dreams and impulses. I was seemingly good at what I did and despite being paid well, they never added any value to my being. No amount of chicken soup could fuel a soul I had already starved to death. Those were different types of mornings and with each passing day felt more and more mundane and draining. I would wake up, make his coffee and lunch and give a little piece of myself away to everyone in my life before running home to make us dinner. I tried to be the perfect wife, the perfect employee and whatever everyone wanted me to be. Until the day I had finally had enough. For the first time I chose myself and my dreams and had the audacity to believe I could achieve anything. There was no more ignoring the reality that I was simply existing and all of a sudden I could no longer breath. When I left I knew he was hurt but honestly we were both relieved. The price, however, of choosing myself, was everything I had. No one in my life understood why and for the first time I didn’t care. The only thing I took where some clothing and my real loves. My secret collection of little black notebooks. Years upon years of my scribblings and drawings they contained every thought and emotion I had ever had in my life. They were how I coped and escaped my mundane reality that I now realized I was slowly drowning in. The pages contained ideas and dreams that were my essence and soul. Filled with the worlds I created that actually ended up saving my life. These pages contained a journey of discovering who I was and where my strength was realized. So naturally they were all I needed to start over. Well that and the mattress I had recently inherited from my Nana who saved everything she had ever acquired throughout her life. She was from a generation of women who often didn’t have choice. So my battle for self felt like I was saving us both.

Sipping my tea, I found the leak and a bucket that was left over from the previous tenant. “Perfect” I thought. See it was all working out already. Looking down at my unironic Cathy mug my mother gave me I plotted my course for the day. “Here’s to you Cathy” I cheersed at the city looking out the window. I had it in my mind that I just needed a little bit of a lucky break. Yes planning and regimenting my actions was a part of my plan but my Nan always said “You can’t win the game if you never played”. So of course I interpreted this literally as buying a scratch off a day in hopes of striking it rich in the jackpot. No matter what I had in my pocket, of which was mostly lint, I always made sure to reserve a dollar or two. “Something feels different about today.” I thought.

Getting dressed I got myself all rylled up “today’s the day!” I knew it, I could feel it in my bones. Brushing my teeth and looking in the mirror, “This is it!” I thought. Lacing up my boots I could feel my misfortune being left in the past. “Ha ha! Lady Luck you minx! this is our day!” Putting on my coat and proudly exiting my apartment I aloud myself to feel every inch of my delusions. The air smelled sweeter, the birds chirped brighter and looking up the Sun shined brighter. Taking in a deep breath I looked up at the sky “Ah yes today’s the day!” I exclaimed making my way down the stoop steps.

“Good morning Benny my good man!” I exclaimed bursting into my corner bodega. “It’s a beautiful day for a miracle!” I smiled and beamed.

“Well well Ms. Lady L, here for a morning gamble?” He chuckled.

“Prepare to to witness a miracle my good man” I proudly proclaimed, slapping my dollar into the counter “Babe Ruth has nothing on me today!”

Confused by my analogy, he looked at me sideways and a slowly tore off the $1 scratch off ticket. “Whatever you say kid, I admire your optimism” he smirked.

“It’s a beautiful day Benny, and I’ve got the winning ticket!” I exclaimed, grinning widely. “Do you have a quarter I could use though?”

Chuckling he crossed his arms and handed me a quarter. “This ones in me sweetie” handing me rusted green penny.

I eagerly started scratching “Big money big money!” I exclaimed cheering myself on. As if the I was suddenly at a slot machine in Las Vegas. “Here we go! That’s one 7” scratch scratch “Two 7s!” The anticipation was building, now I had Bennys attention, even the old lady who always complained, hovering around the plantains was intrigued.

“Just the last box now!” Scratch scratch scratch... “it’s a...dammit it’s a 3” simultaneously we all let out a sigh of disappointment. “Dammit!” I cried “Thanks anyway Benny, I’ll see you tomorrow” hanging my head and slumping out the door.

“Don’t let it get ya down kid, there’s always tomorrow.” He smiled and gave me a little wink. As I walked outside to the bustling streets, suddenly the sun didn’t feel like it was shining as brightly as it had 10 minutes prior. Shrugging off my loss I walked my favorite part of the park where I spent hours of my day scribbling in my little black notebook. Working on my book was the only thing that brought me peace. It allowed me to escape the bleak reality of uncertainty and immerse myself in an alternate universe. Ignoring the very real financial dilemma I was facing. The days passed by quicker and I knew who I was in those moments. I was a writer, penning the most inspiring book I could muster as if my life depended on it. Everything washed away from me and I had purpose.

As the sun started to set I began walking home, picking up a bottle of wine along the way. I figured if Hemingway could use alcohol to fuel his inspiration why couldn’t I? This was just an excuse really as its numbing affects just made the evenings easier to bare. Arriving home, I hung up my coat Sighing a deep breath. Jeez why does it just look sadder every time I see it. I thought to myself looking around my apartment. Mattress on the ground? Self made shelf of old journals? Or perhaps the growing collection of empty wine bottles. Ignoring the obvious I opened the bottle and poured myself a drink. The unironic Cathy mug now seeming more and more relatable served a multitude of purposes. “Drink up lady we need some inspiration” I said to myself, finishing the cup quickly and refilling it immediately. But something was not sitting well with me this evening. With every sip I grew more and more resentful of my misfortune and regret. The regret only being that I had let so much time pass before making this move. I found myself reflecting on and rehashing every bad choice I had ever made. Growing in anger and resentment of my unwillingness to take a leap of faith in life and counting every minute wasted. Allowing societies expectations of time creep into my mind and infect my thoughts fueling my temper. Pacing back and forth the anger bubbled up like a dormant giant of rage that had been asleep for centuries and just now finding its way out. With every sip and every step I grew more and more incensed, furiously looking around for something to unleash my pain on. The rows of scribbled journals taunting me like a useless pile of bad decisions now laughing at me with no perceivable value in sight. Exploding in rage with tears streaming down my face, I smashed the Cathy mug against the wall and kicked over the now full bucket of ceiling water. Unsatisfied with this outlet I pushed over the bookcase the pages flying across the room. I looked over at the bed and screamed “This Fucking mattress!” And began to beat and kick the only thing left standing in the apartment. I cried and punched and tore at the mattress, the springs squeaking in agony. I hardly recognized myself as I pulled at the seams busting the mattress wide open. The contents suddenly spilling out onto the floor. Stepping back I was jolted into consciousness. Hundreds of dollar bills fluttered around the room. I stood in disbelief breathing heavily barely believing my eyes. As the bills settled to the ground I dug deeper into the mattress pulling out fist fulls of bills. “Jaysus” I gasped. There must have been at least $20,000 stuffed in between the springs. Speechless I sat back and burst into laughter, “Mad money indeed” I sighed. “Thank you Nana”