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The Little Black Book

A small book with a big surprise

By Matthew DonnellonPublished 3 years ago 3 min read
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I wasn’t supposed to hear them in the kitchen. They were speaking in hushed tones.

My grandfather was telling my mother the latest news from the doctor. He needed surgery, but it was expensive.

Neither of them said it out right but I knew what they were thinking. They couldn’t afford it. Mom was doing everything she could to keep the store going after Dad went.

Grandpa even started working again, down at a hardware store, but he had to quit a couple weeks ago. That’s when he first went to the doctor.

Now he’s holding my mom’s hand and telling her not to cry.

They thought I was still in my room, but I had snuck down early to read. My bedroom was usually too dark and the lightbulb had burned out a couple days ago and I didn’t want my mom to try to worry about buying any.

I slipped a small notebook out of my pocket. My grandpa had given it to my a while ago, a place to put my drawings, but I just wrote SURGERY under LIGHT BULBS on an ever growing list.

I kept quiet, I didn’t want them to know I’d been listening. I darted past the kitchen entrance so I could retreat to the far corner of the living room where no one would see me.

There sat my pride and joy. My father left me a trunk with his favorite books in it. I’d spent every free hour of the last few weeks going over through it.

That’s when I found the chest’s secret.

One day I opened it and something rattle in the lid, after a few minutes of investigation I pried open the hidden compartment. In it, I found a small black leather notebook similar to the one my grandfather had given me.

This one was much nicer and much, much older.

The whole thing was filled with neat handwriting. But the craziest part was the front page. It bore the words, “Ernest Hemingway.”

My dad had one of Hemingway’s personal notebooks. I figured this is what he wanted me to have when he left me the trunk.

I spent days going over it. I had basically memorized the little pad.

That morning I wanted nothing more than to keep going through it but I had a mission. I grabbed as many books as I could carry and stuffed them into my backpack.

Luckily no one saw me as I ducked out the front door.

Not too far from our house was another bookseller, one of my dad’s friends. I figured he would give the best price on my dad’s books.

The bell above the door jingled when I entered, a small, heavy set man came from the back.

“Hey kid, you’re here early.”

“I know.”

“Does your mom know you’re here?”

“I thought it could be our secret,” I said , hefting the book bag onto the counter.

“Ahh Jesus, are these Danny’s?”

“They were, they’re mine now.”

“Are you sure you want to?”

“Yes,” I said I didn’t want him to know how badly we needed the money.

“Let’s see what you got.”

A few minutes later he came back with a grim look, “The best I could do is 500 dollars. I’m sorry the books just aren’t selling like they used to.”

“It’s okay,” I said. I might not be able to pay for a surgery. But at least I could pay for light bulbs.

He handed me the money, as I was leaving I paused for a moment.

“Oh what about this?” I asked, slipping the notebook out of my pocket.

The man could bare;y hide his astonishment as he thumbed through it.

“You know what this is right?”

“Yep.”

“James there’s no way you can sell this.”

“Please.”

“I have to talk to your mom about this.”

“No, she won’t want to. It’s...it’s for my grandpa he’s sick.”

“Jeez, okay. Let me make some calls. Just sit tight.”

I sat in a chair by the door for what seemed like an hour.

Finally he returned, “Okay, here you go,” he said handing me an envelope.

“How much?”

“20,000 dollars.”

“Wow.”

“Right. Come with me. I’ll give you a ride home. I can’t let you just walk home with that much cash.”

And so he did, I thanked him over and over, and sped into the house.

My mom nearly yelled at me as I walked in, “Where have you been?” she asked. Both he and my grandfather looked worried.

“I had an errand to run.”

“Well it better have been important.”

“It was,” I said, pulling the money from my backpack.

“Where on earth…”

“Grandpa’s getting his surgery,” i said as they both started to cry.

family
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About the Creator

Matthew Donnellon

Twitter: m_donnellon

Instagram: msdonnellonwrites

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