Surprise Money

My name is Monica Ashburn. Until about two months ago, I was just like every other thirty-something. I had student loans, medical bills and was juggling working full time while finishing a degree in graphic design. All that, and I was working freelance on the side. I was just barely scraping by, just like so many people from my generation. Now...now I wish I could have that struggle back.

Two months ago I got a strange package in the mail. The package contained a notebook, and a letter that said “first” on it. What threw me was that there was no return address or indication of it actually having been mailed, it seemed like just a random little cardboard box with my name on it. I didn’t think much about it at the time, perhaps someone just wanted to stay anonymous, I don’t know. I opened the letter, hoping for some clarification I suppose, and it just made everything more odd. It read:

Dear Monica,

I’m sorry for doing this. You don’t have to open the notebook. You can just...I don’t know...give it to someone else. Give it to some homeless person or someone you hate. I don’t know why I gave it to you...maybe because you have a good heart? I don’t know. But know if you open the notebook it’s too late. It’s...I’m sorry, Monica. I miss you. I hope...I hope you just give it away.

Love,

Amy

I didn’t remember knowing an Amy, but the little notebook was interesting. The corners were rounded, the black felt like a very soft leather, and the little elastic seemed to be holding strong. No harm could possibly come from a notebook, I remember thinking to myself.

Opening it showed an “If lost please return to”...and it had my name in my handwriting on it, along with my address. I hurriedly flipped to the next page, my mind racing faster than I could keep up. The next pages, all in my handwriting, stated the rules for how to use the money I would find at the back of the notebook:

All of the funds found in this notebook are to be spent on the betterment of others

Funds cannot be given as donation to any charity that allows, condones, ignores, or otherwise encourages the harm of anyone else.

Funds cannot be given to anyone in exchange for them to purchase something for yourself, Monica J Ashburn.

Funds cannot be given to anyone and then that person be asked to allow you, Monica J Ashburn, to borrow funds.

If you are able to follow these rules, and to pay it forward, the reward will be better than you can imagine.

If you cannot follow these rules, and pay it forward, then you will suffer consequences greater than you can imagine.

I remember I almost dropped the cursed thing when I saw how much money was in it. Two thousand dollars, in cold hard cash. None of which I could spend on me, which caused a pain in my chest. That was almost exactly how much money I needed to pay off my medical bills and some of my other debts.

Nervously, I looked back at the letter I had received with it, and wondered what happened to the Amy who wrote it. I remember being afraid. No, that’s not right, it wasn’t just fear. I could feel energy tickling my arms, but cold liquid pushing through my veins. I didn’t want to take a chance, so I called my mother.

“Hey, Mom, it’s Monica,” I said as upbeat as I could be.

“Is something wrong? You don’t normally call me this early, is it about your brother? Oh I know how he can be sometimes, has he gotten himself in trouble again? I told him, I said, ‘Christopher Anothony Asburn, if you get yourself in trouble again I don’t have the money to get you back out.’ I did, that’s what I said.” My mother’s voice kept going, normally I would roll my eyes and interrupt her, but today...today was different. “Anyway, dear, how are you? Have you found yourself a boyfriend yet?”

I gave a polite laugh, “No, Mom. I just...I had a serious question for you.”

“What’s going on? You don’t need bail money do you?” She sounded scared, but I quickly reassured her.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I just wanted to know if there was still money owed on Dad’s bills. Anything. I came into some extra money and...well I know things can be hard. I wanted to help.” Dad had died a few years ago, but still bills came piling in to say he was late on payments. I knew Mom struggled to pay what she could, especially with my brother being the way he is.

“Oh, honey, you don’t have to do that. Go get your hair done and go for a shopping trip.” Her voice came down and she seemed to have a laugh dancing through her words.

“Please, Momma, let me help you.”

I heard her sigh, and could perfectly see how she was rolling her weight front to back. “Alright. He had about four thousand left in bills, and that’s including those rotten late fees. Don’t feel like you have to pay them all, just pay what you feel you can.” She paused, and I swear I could hear the tears hitting the phone, “Thank you, Monica. I’m glad we raised at least one of you right.”

We talked some more, and I agreed to stop by and give her the money when I was coming home from work.

WORK.

Of course, I was running late to work. While there it was slow enough I was able to donate more funds to a couple charities, and by the end of the day I had the four thousand and another hundred or so left. I made sure to drop the cash off to their respective places and swung over to my mother’s.

On the way there I saw this woman with matted honey hair and a sign asking for some change. My heart leapt and I stopped by to talk with her. She wouldn’t say her name, and she barely spoke to me between sobs. I handed her the money not meant for my mother, and told her to get some food and a warm bed for the night. She finally looked up at me, and her translucent blue eyes looked into mine. I felt something for a moment, and hugged her tight. I didn’t know why, but I felt that was what I should do. I said my farewells and best wishes, and was off again to my mother’s.

Once there she decided we should get some dinner, which was fine, especially when she offered to pay. I gave her the money and when she asked questions about how I got it, I came up with a story about a freelance gig I had done. My explanation appeared to appease her and she accepted the money, then got up and went to the counter. We weren’t at anything fancy, just a little mom and pop joint near her house.

Again, I had an urge, so I went with it and turned around and saw her breaking one of the twenties from the stack I had given her. It was her money now, so as long as she spent it on herself it was fine. At least, that is what I assume based on the rules of the little notebook. I pulled it out of my bag, though, just to recheck.

The words on the pages were no longer the rules, and the images of the scrawled letters caused my breath to catch in my chest:

Failed FAILED Failed failed fAiLeD FAILED failed Failed

It was everywhere. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t know what happened, at least...until my mother brought me a sundae. She smiled at me and told me she wanted to show her appreciation. My stomach was turning so fast, I almost couldn’t eat it. I did though, to show my love.

And that was the last time I saw her. I lost everything the second I stepped home. My apartment was kicking me out, my phone company just ended my service, and my bank account went to zero. Now I can’t get a job, most people don’t seem to even notice me. Because the money was spent on me, I was practically erased from existence.

I tried to burn the book, but it wouldn’t keep lit, so I left it on a park bench. I hope whoever gets it next follows the rules better than I was able to.