Worth Every Penny

Upon reflection, I ought to have worn the black pants.

Sally observes herself in the subway car window reflection; she wears a smart black turtleneck and remarkably red pants.

Make an impression, she thought. First day at a new job - might as well stand out. But dang, these pants are bright cherry red. In the dim light of her small closet they took on a maroon hue; but here, in the open cityscape of subway-traveling life, she can only note the remarkable redness of her bottom half.

She chuckles. It’s just a job, all my other pants are dirty anyway. Sally considers her limited quarter supply and piles of laundry that line her apartment walls. No matter how she did the math, the equation resulted in a reminder that: I don’t have a cent of spare cash to clean my clothes ‘til this first paycheck.

7 more stops. Sally takes an open seat as subway travelers exit and enter the train. Ahhh, at least now I can write. Sally unfastens the button on her shoulder-bag and pulls out her little black book. The satisfaction of the slick black fabric-esque cover takes her mind away from money-woes. She flips through the well-worn pages, months of concepts, ideas, get-rich schemes, and witticisms fill every inch of each page.

As she reviews yesterday’s musings (including a crude drawing of an invention that Shark-Tank investors would certainly be intrigued to hear pitched), Sally’s spine tingles. Is she being watched?

Sally looks around the tempered subway car - no strangers threatening danger - just one eccentric-looking woman with white curly hair wearing a velvet jumper staring directly back at Sally. Sally blinks a few times to break eye contact before returning to her book to read her top ten punny titles for a new bread-shop that serves only cornmeal-based recipes: So Corny Dough makes her giggle. She writes in a star next to a few others on the list. Then her spine tingles again. She glances towards the velvet-clad woman with white hair who has moved to a seat closer to Sally.

“What are you writing?” the woman asks.

Sally blinks at the voice of the velvety white-haired woman - it sounds like her clothes look - quite smooth.

“Me?” Sally squeaks out.

That was silly, of course; she’s blatantly staring at me….

The velvety voice replies: “Exactly - you!"

Sally blinks. "You appear quite immersed in what you are doing,” the white-haired velvet woman continues, emphasizing each consonant sound.

“Oh! I just love to write,” Sally responds.

“That book looks just about ready to burst - what do you put in it?”

Sally, hypnotized by the woman’s directness, offers: “Mostly things that inspire or interest me. It’s really nothing special, but it’s part of my day...it’s part of me, I guess.”

Sally politely goes back to her writings.

“Will you write about me?” The woman asks.

Oh, we’re still talking.

Sally considers. “I have not...yet.”

They both smile.

“Well, you really might like to. I have a great day planned!” the woman exclaims. “I am going to the park to feed the ducks and then heading back home to get ready for a night at the theater!”

Sally replies with a smile, “I’ll be sure to make a note of that.”

“I get inspiration from the arts,” the woman says. “Can I read what’s in your book?”

Goodness no! Sally thinks, blushing slightly. She offers a comforting dismissal of the request “...there’s really not much there that you’d find interesting….”

“Now you don’t know that!”

The woman and Sally blink at each other. Three more stops...the velvety woman carries on: “I’d even pay you for your work. How much do you want for it?”

Ha! Sally had always wanted to be a professional writer, but when the job-hunt for writing positions became quite bleak she began reaching out to college friends for anything with some concrete pay.

“How much?” The woman’s question hangs in the subway car air… Two stops left.

Realizing the woman seriously wants an answer, Sally notices a nearby advert for life insurance: “Well, I suppose I could let it go for… an even $40,000?”

“Hmm, that’s a little steep.”

“Well, no worries!” Sally smiles. She watches the woman search through her velvet handbag.

“How about $20,000?”

Ha! “I suppose, for $20,000 I could part with my book,” Sally states with a chuckle.

The woman takes her checkbook out. “Can I borrow your pen, dear?”

Sally stares at the strange woman, realizing they may not be joking, and considering the absurdity of $20,000 for her little black notebook. She slowly hands over the pen. One stop to go.

“Thank you, dear!” The woman swiftly writes and rips the rectangular check.

Sally’s eyes widen as the check is placed in her hand. Surely this is a joke. Am I on a new prank show? She looks down to see it all there with smart cursive lettering. The name on the check-head reads: Miss Mary.

“Thank you….” Sally looks down at the check, “...Mary. Miss Mary.”

“Thank you for the book,” Mary says as she takes it out of Sally’s hand. “This is my stop. See ya!”

Miss Mary hops out, Sally’s little black book in hand; Sally stares at the check. Could this possibly be real? Or did I just let a crazy lady steal my notebook? The subway doors close.

SHIT! That was my stop.

Sally’s amusement is taken over by panic - she cannot be late for her new job. At the next stop, Sally leaps off the train and rushes down the busy street to the office building. She gets there just in time - to learn that her first task is to get coffee for the morning meeting. A hectic-looking man is listing the coffee orders briskly in Sally’s general direction while Sally searches her bag for a spare piece of paper.

Well, this is a first - no notebook.

“Did you get that last one? Americano but decaf and if the decaf has to brew still just a hot earl grey tea for Roger. Hey, nice pants, by the way!”

“Got it,” Sally says enthusiastically as she types coffee orders into her phone. “And, thanks,” she says with a smile.

On her way to the coffee shop, Sally passes a bank. She peeks in: no line at Teller 3. She takes a few steps past the door - then makes a sudden turnaround and enters the bank. It will just take a minute to see if this check is real, Sally thinks to herself.

“Hi, I’d like to deposit a check.”

Teller 3 looks at the check then asks Sally to enter her debit card and press some buttons.

“Ok, here’s your receipt!” the Teller says without a second glance.

Sally is shocked. The check...cashed? Who was this woman?

“Anything else I can help you with?” The teller eyes Sally’s hypnotized stance suspiciously.

“No, no - thank you.”

As Sally exits the bank in disbelief, she realizes she must refocus, get coffees, and get back to work. The line is quite long in the coffee shop; she sends a text to her contact at the office “Longest.Line.Ever. Will be back asap.” She snaps a photo of the line and attaches it as proof. As Sally inches forward in the line, her mind starts to wander. She reaches into her bag to write down her thoughts and realizes that she has no little black book within which to write.

I really wish I had my book. As her mind continues to wander about all that she had written in the book that is no longer in her possession, she takes a slight step back…

“Excuse me, miss, are you in line?” a gentleman asks. “You don’t want to lose your place, do you?”

Miss? Sally repeats to herself. Lose my place? Lose my book?!? My book...ideas...my inspiration - it's all gone!

The $20,000 doesn’t seem real sitting in the bank and while it provides some security - and a lot of loads of laundry - Sally feels lost... She thinks of everything she’s jotted down, all her new ideas that are now wandering out of her mind without a home.

Without responding, Sally turns and heads out the door, trying to remember what Miss Mary shared about her day. Sally is half-way down the street before she remembers feeding ducks at the park! That’s where the woman will be, surely!

As she circles the park, she ignores texts from her new workplace with updated coffee orders and added snack requests.

The park is relatively busy. A balloonist makes a giant giraffe for a little girl. Sally scans for a velvet-clad white-haired woman when she hears... a gunshot?? She turns to see that the girl with the balloon giraffe has promptly tried to ride the giraffe - and popped it.

Sally laughs and reaches into her bag to make a note of the terrifying sound a balloon can make but, of course, no notebook.

I have to find it.

Sally looks back to see the girl handing money to the balloonist - the bank!

Sally sprints away from the park and back towards the bank. She waits in line for Teller 3.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

Ah, this is a bit strange, Sally thinks.

“Ah, this is a bit strange…”

Sally explains in between gasps for air - recovering from her unexpected run - that she needs to - see the check - she deposited.

Confused, the Teller begins to reassure her that the money is in her account.

“No!” Sally says a little too loudly. “I need to see the original check. Can you show it to me? And, can you give me a piece of paper?”

Ignoring the full request, Teller 3 smiles politely and slowly turns her computer screen to show Sally a copy of the scanned check.

Sally squints to read off the screen: 555 Saint Claire St. Repeating it over in her head so she doesn’t forget, Sally turns to leave. She’s nearly out the door before she realizes that Teller 3 now looks more annoyed than confused. Sally yells a quick but earnest “thank you” as she continues repeating the address in her head. 555 Saint Claire St...

Sally makes her way to the house, glancing at her phone to see 3 more texts. She counts the brownstone-looking building addresses 549...551… then, finally - 555!

What will I say? Thanks for the 20K but I just want my book back?

She looks up and realizes 555 St. Claire St. looks quite empty.

Sally peers through the window.

“Hello?” She calls out.

There’s no answer, and it appears there is nothing in the house; she calls out again “Miss Mary?”

Sally carefully knocks on the door.

To her surprise, the door is slightly ajar - it opens at her touch.

“Hello?”

Sally takes a step inside. The entryway is barren - there is nothing in the house except a small side table near the far window.

As Sally decides what to do next she begins to think about how she’s now put her job in jeopardy - all for the chance to get her little notebook back... She turns to leave, and the door creaks open a bit further; as rays of sunlight expose more of the empty room, Sally notices there is something on the table: it’s small and black.

She takes a few steps towards the table… it looks like my little black book!

Sally rushes over and picks it up. As she flips through the pages in disbelief, she notices a post-it note on the back cover. It reads: “It was worth every penny.”

Sally clutches her notebook tightly and giggles to herself at the absurdity of this day. Just as she lets it all sink in - that she now has $20,000 in the bank AND her little black notebook back - her phone dings with a new text:

“Red pants - where are those coffees?”