Paper Wishes

Kaylee paused from her brisk lap around the park, trying to catch her breath and idly watching passersby; a couple across the way, a family with their dog, and the small woman just now careening off the bench. Starting as though she could catch the woman, Kaylee relaxed as it became clear that she was in fact, stable on her feet. Stooping to collect another leaf Kaylee looked back at the bench where the woman had been sitting; there, left neatly behind her was a notebook. Rushing over to grab it, she desperately tried to catch the lady’s attention.

Finally the woman stopped, turning around and looking puzzled. Upon explanation the woman laughed, “Oh, no, child, that’s not mine. It’s for you!”

“Oh, but it must be yours! You left it on the bench; it’s not mine! Are you giving it to me?”
“No no, but it isn’t mine. I cannot take it.”
“Oh.”

Puzzled Kaylee turned, hoping to see the book’s owner somewhere nearby, but there was no-one to be found. Slowly flipping open the cover, the book nearly landed on the ground as she noticed the contents, fingers going numb. “Oh no, absolutely not! I can’t take this!” She spun back toward the woman, then froze. She could see the couple peeking at her from across the way, but no old woman. Baffled, she ran up to the nearest tree, even glancing twice behind the park bench in desperate hope of finding the woman. It was obvious she was not there.

Kaylee flipped open the book; perhaps the money was fake? But it wasn’t. Horrified, Kaylee stood there, torn between carrying it home and leaving it on the bench. Perhaps she could turn it in to the police?

It wasn’t long before she found herself at home, pacing between her desk and window, surprisingly anxious at what should have been the best luck of her short life. Settling back down, she began flipping through the book again; it was remarkably unremarkable, a small black notebook, a simple ribbon bookmark, and well, she hesitated, tons of cash. Hundred dollar bills were stuffed between the pages by the dozens. Shocked, she began to count them, barely suppressing the hope that she could keep it. Twenty thousand dollars. The words didn’t even feel real rolling off her tongue. This could help with so many things!

Glancing at the number on the sheet didn’t feel real, but realistically, she mentally glanced at her rent for the month. Kaylee winced, she could easily eat up most of that on a year’s rent. But oh the other possibilities that could open up! Her childhood dreams of supporting hurting children, orphans, and victims of various kinds came bubbling up to the surface. Thoughts of owning a horse danced for a moment before drifting off, replaced by the thought that she could support herself on that money for a year, spend a year pursing her creative efforts, finishing that draft she was working on, maybe trying to get something published. Start a dance studio where she could teach people who maybe weren’t technically the best, but still loved to move. Dance at its’ heart was about expression, not perfect form, although that was an added bonus gained through years of training.

Her list began rapidly filling up, dream after dream flooding the page. She could help Jace out too, maybe help him get a new car before his current one broke down.

Turning her attention back to the book she continued turning the pages, intent on not missing a thing. That was when she reached the last page; turning it over she found a pocket, nestled tight on the back cover. She pulled it open, tense as a small slip of paper slipped out. No. Instantly deflated she flipped it over, eyes wide. There was a name. Nothing else, just a name. Frustrated, she threw it aside. “Now I have to return it.” Storming away from the desk and the meaningless lists of paper she turned to look longingly out the window. Her gut twisted as she thought about keeping it for the briefest moment.

But that would never do. That guilt would last a while, and maybe whoever’s it was wouldn’t come for it! After all, the circumstances surrounding its appearance had been rather strange. Writing the advertisement was the worst written activity she had engaged in for a while; this probably beat writing boring old essays for school.

Finally complete, she looked it over one last time… “I found an old notebook in the park with a good deal of cash in it. The owner’s name was on a slip of paper in the back pocket, please email me if this is yours and you should like it back.” …that would have to do. In theory, that would allow for three questions to clarify the true owner; what color the book was, the name in the back, and how much cash was inside.

Night hadn’t even fallen by the time the throwaway email began blowing up. Sorting through the answers was nearly as miserable as finding the name had been. A few people guessed the color correctly, a black notebook wasn’t horribly unique, and some insisted they didn’t remember how much money was inside, but all the names were wrong so far. And she had some emails which tried to submit multiple answers. It didn’t take long to begin blocking each failed attempt.

That was when the fated email came through. It immediately caught her eye from the others, because the contact was Erik Andersen, the same name that had been on the slip of paper. The answer was polite and detailed; he mentioned the black notebook, that the twenty thousand dollars in cash had been tucked in between the individual pages, his name, and the rough route he believed he had lost it on. And sure enough, the park was one of the places on his list.

Devastated, Kaylee responded, offering for him to come by the next day, sometime around three o’clock. His gratitude meant nothing as she rolled into bed, the selfish part of her hoping perhaps he would leave her with just a bit of it.

~~~~~~

The knock on her door startled her from her thoughts, and for one final moment she considered ignoring the door. But she opened it, and there a gentleman in a nice suit waited, thanking her profusely for returning something that he believed lost forever. Something about her responses felt numb and forced, but he was likely to ecstatic to notice.

That was when he peeled off a large portion of the cash, which she’d placed on top of the notebook when she handed it over. He thanked her again, handing it to her along with the notebook, “This is for you now. Thank you for this.” …then he was off down the stairs. “Wait! Thank you.” He turned, still smiling, “Of course, anytime; in fact, come see me for lunch sometime. I owe you.” Slipping her a business card he raced off, and quickly his bounding footsteps faded from earshot.

Turning numbly back into the room she deleted the email account, and sat to count out the money; this was a lot. The whole day felt unreal in fact, she wasn’t sure she liked it.

Glancing over at the lists written the night before, Kaylee felt a twinge of hope.

She could do this. She began flipping through them, slowly at first, but more and more frenzied as she went. Yes. She could still achieve these. Grabbing the notebook she flipped it open, scrawling her name at the top, and beginning to write. Several pages later she felt more settled, and was breathing easier.

1. Use some of the money for rent, and to help my friend.

2. Start volunteering again

3. Finish that book.

4. Keep creating from there.

Smiling for real again Kaylee ripped out the page, and pinned it on the bulletin board above her desk, but it looked lonely. Glancing around she remembered the leaves from yesterday’s walk; finding a particularly nice red one, she tacked it up nearby, pleased at the state of the board. “This,” she hummed as she set off toward the bank, “is a new focus for me.”