A Lesson in Never Giving Up

“And please give other foods a try every once in a while. Pizza isn’t the only thing out there.” I’ve been on this call with my mother for over two hours already; you’d think I moved out of the state and not eighteen minutes from her. “Ok mom.” I say, rubbing my forehead, exhausted. “Alright baby, I know your tired and I’m talking your ear off.” “Yea, I’ll do that.” “Ok Sherman, you enjoy your first night on your own. We are proud of you. We’ll speak to you later. Love you.” “Love you too, goodnight.” We hang up and I plop down on the couch I took from my parent’s garage. It’s in great condition but it smells like them, it’s oddly comforting. My place is still pretty bare, but it has all the basic needs. A bed, a couch, shower curtains, microwave, tv, etc. My laptop looms in the distance reminding me of the homework I have to finish. But first, dinner! Mom said no pizza so I won’t get that; but a nice crunchy, cheesy grilled cheese will definitely be the perfect replacement. Plus, it’s free and easy. After putting it together and sliding it into the pan, my laptop pings informing me of a message from a group chat with my friends. In no time I’m fully engaged in a gif battle. It is only when my fire alarm begins to blare that I realize that this quick reply has had my undivided attention for over seven minutes. The smoke that fills is the air is still light, but it burns my nose as I enter the kitchen. “Where’s my fire extinguisher?” I shout frantically as I search around my kitchen. A small blaze is starting and it’s just then that I dart under my sink to look, reaching in blindly, I yank the first thing I feel. It’s cold and hard, pulling it out victoriously, I hear something solid fall. Too busy with trying to put out the blaze, I quickly turn back to the fire. Once it’s out I place the extinguisher on the counter and walk dejectedly to the pantry and pull out some instant ramen. “Day one by myself and I almost burn the place down.” Annoyed with myself I trudge to the living room with my noodles and finish the rest of my homework.

Bob’s Burgers theme song wakes me the next morning and I realize that I fell asleep in the couch. Checking the time, it shows 8:45am. Hopping in the shower, I savor the feel of the hot water on my skin. Once I’m done I brush my teeth, my hair and comb out my beard. “Looking ok!” I say, laughing at myself. After I’m dressed in the outfit my mom picked out for me, I grab a granola bar off the fridge and head off to my classes for the day.

It’s 6:15 when I finally make it back home. I’ll have to call my mom and tell her that everyone loved the green sweater that she chose. But first a beer! I wash my hands at the kitchen sink and it’s there that I notice.. I never put the fire extinguisher away. Opening the cabinet door, I notice an oddly shaped shadow on the bottom of it. Reaching in my fingers skim what feels like leather. It’s cold and feels thin and worn. Finally pulling it out, I see that it’s a weathered little black book. Flipping it open to the first page it reads “To Courtney, never give up. -89” Curious, I take the book to the living room where lighting is better, and the remaining smoke is mostly faded out. I take my usual spot on the couch and turn to the next page where beautiful cursive is scrawled in small print..

 “It wasn’t easy getting out of there. They tried to stop me at every turn but my will to make it out never failed. Slipped right past Gary after his normal third cup of coffee bathroom break. From there it was just a quick sprint past the kitchens and out the old service entrance. After being locked away for 2 ½ years I  did not care what the world outside these walls possibly looked like, only that it was there. Cold October rain pelted my gown and skin once I was outside the doors. I couldn’t help but shiver, but it was a good shiver; one of positive possibilities and optimistic futures. Without another thought, I was running. Full speed and out of their reach. I am ready to start my new life.”  

As I read I try to understand what’s going on. A breakout. From where? 2 ½ years locked away. For what? Who is Courtney and how did this journal come to find its way under my sink? My fingers curl at the edges of the page, ready to turn  when my phone rings. “Hi mom.” I say, still partially more invested in the journal than her phone call. “How was the first night in your new place?” “Interesting.” I say before I fill her in on everything that has happened since we last spoke. “Wow, that is interesting. Does it have dates to pinpoint when all this is going on?’ “It looks like there are only a few entries, but they span from October 1989 to December.” “Will you keep reading?” I thought for the briefest moment and then answered. “Yea, I think I will. It’s not every day you come across a mysterious little black book.” She and I chat for a while longer when I finally hear my dad rushing her off the phone so they can watch their shows. As soon as we hang up, I’m right back in Courtney’s world.

“October 17th 89- 37 Lamont Street. Where all my painful memories come full circle. Anyone with common sense and a history similar to the one I have with this place would be a million miles away. In all honesty, once I get what I came for that’s exactly what I plan to do. A while before my life completely fell apart , an old friend of mine and myself  hid some money here for safe keeping. My half and Her half were kept together so no one could tie anything back to us. But time and chaos got in the way, causing us to have a falling out. I don’t know if it’s that damp and dust causing my eyes to water but somehow it’s fitting that tears have fallen in this place. My old life began here, and it will end here too. Once I find that duffle bag, I’m not looking back.”

Both entries so far have left me with more questions than answers. It’s strange and fascinating. I want to binge it. Be fully submerged in it. Is that weird? Probably, but I just have to know.

“October 20th 89- Pleasant Gardens was on the news last night talking about me. They called me dangerous and unstable. ME! Like I was the one who did all those horrible things. As if I was the one who ruined those people’s lives. Whatever, they’re too late anyway. I’ve already cut and colored my hair, plus I bought some colored contacts and now I look like a whole different person. Once the heat dies down I’ll be able to disappear and they’ll never find me. Especially her! She’s the real lunatic, the real dangerous one. But do they plaster her face all over the news? Do they sully her name? No. She probably slept her way to freedom, that wouldn’t be a far fetch. Eventually it will all be over. With this money, my new life will be problem free. I’ve hidden the bag behind the broken tile behind my bathroom sink. Until I can leave, I’ll just have to keep up this charade. The landlord downstairs knows me as Nicole. I’ve paid him up for the next six months just to be on the safe side. Now I just need to play my role until I can’t any longer..”

My body lifts from its place on the couch and instinctively heads for the bathroom, but my feet stop at the threshold. “I’m trippin’.” I think to myself because at this moment I have to be to actually think that any of this could be true or possible. If I try and think about this logically it comes out as: A woman named Courtney lived here in 1989 after escaping a psych ward, while staying here she stashed a duffle bag of money behind the wall in the bathroom all while avoiding capture. Unbelievable! Still, it won’t hurt to check.. could it? Without another thought I walk into the bathroom and crouch down by the back of the sink. At first glance all the tiles look professionally installed but there is one towards the bottom that is  bit crooked. Tapping lightly on the tile did nothing so I try again with a little more force. Suddenly some of the caulking of the tile begins to crumble away and I have access to a small hole. I get on hand and knee and begin to pull away tile enough that I’m able to see into the opening. I take a deep breath and stick my arm in, moving it around my grip lands on something that feels like a strap. “No way!” I pull the bag out with a little force and am tossed back by the size of it. It’s an old Adidas sport bag, covered in dust and dried-up water stains. My hands are shaking as I reach for the zipper and flip the mouth of the bag open. “Impossible.” Was the only word I could utter. This bag has been tucked away in this place for over 30 years. Without counting the money or moving the bag any further, I stand and walk back to where I left this life changing little book on my couch.

“October 25th 89- It feels like people keep staring at me; it’s like they’re judging me with their eyes. I just know she’s back and has been asking around about me. My landlord Ivan is even paying me more attention now. I think he listens to me from his apartment downstairs so now I keep my radio going, night and day. I’m not crazy, I know what’s going on.” Hmm, she seems kinda paranoid. Maybe that’s normal for someone in her position. Finally sitting back to take a moment to take it all in, my eyes fall on my phone. Wow, it’s already after 9:30. Suddenly I’m dog tired. Leaving everything where it was, I get up and head to my bedroom. Taking off my clothes, I turn off the lights and settle into my bed. In no time I’m asleep and dreaming of odd background music and shifty eyes.

It’s noon when I crack my eyes open, the next day. I don’t feel rested, my head is foggy and I’m anxious. What could have happened to Courtney for that money to still be here. I make my way to the bathroom and I’m both relieved and surprised to see the bag still on the floor right outside of the bathroom. I decide it’s time to dump the contents, so I head to the kitchen and grab a trash bag, cut it open and place it on the floor.  I pick up the duffle bag and dump it out. Banded $20s $50s and $100s fall to the grown is a mist of dirt and dust. After half an hour counting it all, it comes to $20,000. My mind immediately rushes to the darkest places. “No one voluntarily leaves behind this much money.  I stand and run back to the couch and snatch open the little black book once again.

“November 8th 89- She’s messing with me! She must know I’m here. For the past week I’ve had the feeling that I’m being followed. Footsteps in the hall outside my door, cars tailing me down  every street.. She has to be the one behind it. She knows I’m planning my escape and she’ll do whatever she can to stop me. Ivan came to talk to me this morning about my company and I being too loud. Obviously, I was confused by his statement since I haven’t had anyone over since I moved in. He says other than my non-stop music, he heard me and another woman arguing. I didn’t tell him that I don’t know what he’s talking about, only apologized and told him it won’t happen again. I have no other option; I’ll have to make my move before the year is over.”

“Oh my GOD! They found her!” I whisper to myself in disbelief. But how? Flipping ahead a few pages, I notice the entries get fewer and the once beautiful cursive gets more frantically written with random scribbles off to the sides.

My mom is the only person I have spoke to about any of this, so I pick up my phone and call her. “Mom!” I breathe once she picks up. “Sherman? Are you ok? What’s wrong?” “Mom, they found Courtney!” “Wait, who’s Courtney?” “She’s the woman I was telling you about, the one from the journal I found.” The line goes silent for a moment and then “Boy! Don’t be calling me sounding like that and ain’t nothing wrong with you! I was about to tell your dad to grab the keys and roll out.” I can’t help but laugh, my mom is crazy. “Sorry ma, it’s just this story is crazy. So much is going on and I think it’s got me more on edge than I thought.” I tell her about the escape, the news broadcast, the apartment, everything… except the money. My mom is clearly the worrying type and I know that if I were to bring up a mysterious duffle bag full of cash she’d probably bust a vein over it. “Listen Sherman, I know this seems life changing and all consuming but don’t be getting yourself all worked up over a one-sided story. You said this book looks to be a journal so of course it’s going to only reveal her point of view. She’s going to seem like the hero or the victim, that’s how diaries work. I’m sure things worked out the best possible way they could have, so please don’t look any sleep over this.”

I wanted to tell her how much I doubted that. I wanted to tell her how hysterical Courtney sounded and explain how the money she needed to start her new life, still being here proved my point. But another side of me agreed that she had a point. What facts did I actually have regarding any of this? What cold hard proof? All I had was a book about a troubled girl and a large bag of unexplainable cash. Sketchiness level: through the roof. “Do you hear me Sherman?” she asked, bringing me back to the present. “Yes, I hear you.” It was then that I knew exactly what I needed to do. “Mom, I’ll call you back, I’ve got some work to do.” With that I hang up and grab my laptop.

First I google Pleasant Gardens. Built in 1939, it held over 213 patients. Specializing Bipolar disorder, Schizophrenia, and Multiple personality disorder. After many unexplained  deaths and disappearances, the facility was finally shut down in May of 1997. Google images were scarce, but the photos depicted sad, malnourished and disheveled looking patients; no one smiled, not even the staff. I can see why she wanted out so badly. Towards the end of the images is a picture from a news bulletin; the woman in it has deep brown skin and big hazel eyes. Her hair is in long black plats and she has this look to her that makes your heart slow. Beneath the picture the name reads C. Jefferson “Dangerous and unstable” I know it’s her, there is nothing more to go on but deep in the pit of my gut I know it’s Courtney. I try to search for any other information about Pleasant Gardens but there isn’t much. I set my laptop back onto the table and pickup Courtney’s journal, ready to continue with her story.

“November 17th 89’- I saw her! Somehow she broke into my apartment and was standing in my bathroom. She wanted to know where I was hiding the money. I lied and told her it wasn’t in the apartment, but she didn’t believe me and tried to attack me. I ran to my bedroom and barricaded myself inside. Her heavy fists pounded at my door, almost splintering the wood. “You can’t run from me! I’ll always find you!” The pounding seemed to go on forever until there was a knock from further in the apartment. “Nicole! Nicole? What’s going on in there? Hello? Nicole?” I freeze, thankful for my nosey landlord. “You better leave! If he unlocks that door, he’ll call the cops and we’ll both get locked up.” Silence. Slowly I open my bedroom door to find that she’s gone. I run to the door as I hear Ivan putting his back up key in my lock. I swipe tears from my eyes as I open the door. “Hey Ivan, I’m really sorry.” He looks at me puzzled, worry and frustration swirl on his face. “Nicole, you can’t keep doing this. It’s 3am, people have kids and work. If you don’t stop with this I’m going to have to put you out.” No words come out. I’m too embarrassed, I simply shake my head yes. “Listen, you seem like a nice girl, if you got someone treating you bad or giving you trouble, you need to leave them alone. They have no right hurting you.” “What if it’s not that easy?” “Well, you have me, I’m always here for you, or the police..” “NO!” I shout at him. “I can’t get the police involved.” He scratches his already mostly bald head, trying to think of another option. But my heart races with the next words out his mouth. “You can always change your identity. I have a cousin who did that once.” My eyes feel like they are going to pop out of my head. “Yea, maybe that sounds a little crazy.” he says with a chuckle. “Thanks Ivan. I’ll look into some stuff and see what else I can find.” “Ok, let me know if you need something.” He tries to peak into my apartment as he heads downstairs, but She’s long gone so there’s nothing to see. I bid Ivan a final goodnight and shut the door. I’m out of time and at the end of my rope. I have to get out of this city and fast; but first things first, I think It’s time I get myself a gun.”

A gun? Is she going to kill this person? How did they even get into her apartment? My mind is spinning from all of this. Even her landlord knew something wasn’t right.

“November 23rd 89’- I went shopping! I got a dog, his name is Bowzer and he’s a two-year-old dalmatian rescue. I got my gun, it’s a small Saturday night special that fits right in the palm of my hand. I’ve never shot a gun before but in an emergency I don’t expect it to be overly difficult. I feel like ever since I brought Bowzer home I sleep better, no waking up in a cold sweat, no more feeling paranoid through the night. But this also might be due to my new reenforced locks. It’s a bolt lock with side and bottom attachments. I’ve never felt safer.”

I’m smiling by the time I finish her entry, hoping against hope that this can be how it all ends but I know better. With only two entries left I don’t think I can handle the inevitable crumble of her bliss. I decide to go for a walk, hopefully it will put me in better spirits. The sun is just setting as I toss my jacket on. Heading out the door I bump into my landlord Mr. Jakoby. “Ah, Sherman. How’s it going? How are you liking the place?” “It’s good man. Quiet, clean, just my style.” “Good, good. Your apartment is the most updated in the building, I’m just getting around to the upgrades on the rest of the floor.” What he says makes me take pause. “Why has it had so much more work done than the others?” He shakes his head solemnly. “Some bad stuff happened there a while ago and it took a good amount of work to make it decent and livable again.” My heart sinks and my mind speaks aloud. “Courtney.” His eyes fly to mine. “What did you say?” “Uhm, I said corned beef. The deli a couple blocks from here makes the best corned beef. I’m actually headed there before they run out.” He eyes me suspiciously as I hustle past him before he can ask me anymore questions.

 As I reach the last stair outside our building something occurs to me. How would Mr.Jakobi know who I was talking about unless he was here when everything happened? Courtney says her landlord Ivan knew her as Nicole but if something happened in the apartment where authoritative action had to be taken he would have found out who she really was. I ponder this as I make my way to the deli. I sit in the tiny, hot deli for over an hour. As much as I wanted to know what all Ivan knew, I was also scared to reveal what I knew. Another hour passed with me spacing out and in deep thought about how this little black book has so profoundly changed my life. Curiously enough I’ve started to feel protective of Courtney. My fear of what Ivan might say about her kept me glues to the faux leather seat. I so desperately want her to be the protagonist of her tale. So badly want her to have made it away safe and be living a good life, her and Bowzer. Finally, I pick myself up and head home. Once I reach my street, I look up at where my living room light illuminates my window. Is this what she saw? Strange faces gawking at her from outside. Poor Courtney. Lately this has become an unpracticed mantra. Randomly during my day she’ll cross my mind, or something will happen that reminds me of her and say, “Poor Courtney.”

I choose to use the back door to the building in an attempt to evade Ivan but it’s to no avail; he’s sitting on the back stairs smoking a cigar. “Sherman, come sit, let’s chat a while.” I’m caught, no way to run; so, I take a seat upwind from him on the stairs. “Corned beef, huh?” he says with a laugh. Of course, he didn’t fall for it. “I..” “No need to explain kid. Past tenants stay finding something of hers. All scattered and hidden around the place. I thought after my latest renovation there’d be nothing left, but that’s Courtney for you. Nothing is ever as final as you think.” “What do you know about her?” I ask, almost in a whisper. “I know she’d been through a lot of nasty stuff and she suffered a lot because of it.” “Did you know she was…” “A runaway? An escapee? Crazy? Yea, but she was harmless, to everyone but herself that is.” Shocked, I sat silent for a moment, taking in his words. “Did you ever think about turning her in?” Now it was his turn to silently think. “I knew she needed help. But to call the cops just so they could lock her back up in Pleasant Gardens seemed cruel. She had no friends, no family; no one to vouch  for her or take her in, So I thought… I thought if I kept an eye on her she’d be ok.” “What was wrong with that hospital?” His eyes had an angry mist to them, like he knew a pain that bonded them together. “They treated those poor people like animals, worse than animals. Rarely ever bathed them, talked down to them, fed them slop. No one there really cared for them. So many died, the lucky ones broke out. My little brother Isaac, he wasn’t one of the lucky ones. When he was admitted in 68’ there wasn’t much out about the place so it seemed on the up and up; but after a while they started making up excuses as to why I couldn’t see him. He died there and I didn’t find out til’ 81’.” He swatted a lone tear from his round stubbly face. “I’m sorry.” “That’s why I couldn’t send her back there,  she needed help not to be admitted to a den of monsters.” “Did someone kill her?” It was a hard question to ask but I needed to know. Without looking at me, he slowly shook his head yes.  Before I knew it, I was crying. We sat in that long, sad, silence for a good while before Ivan finally stood up. He stubbed out his cigar and placed a heavy, hairy hand on my shoulder. “It’s nice that you care, that would mean a lot to her.” Slowly he removes his hand from my shoulder and heads to his apartment down the hall. But I stay in that silent, dim lit hallway, swiping away angry tears. “Poor Courtney.”

The next day is a full day for me; I have work from 9am to 2pm and then class from 4pm to 6pm. The whole day is a slow blur but finally I arrive home at 7:15 and let my bones drop on my couch. So much of my days have been filled with worrying about Courtney that now that I know she’s gone, I don’t know what else to focus on. I turn on the tv just for some background noise and it reminds me of how Courtney kept her radio on. Sighing, I get up. Even though I know her story ends up in a less than desirable way, I still want to know how it got there. So, I reach under the pillow on my couch where I keep her journal hidden and flip to her next entry.

“November 30th 89’- I’ve been feeling good, happy even. Bowzer and I go for walks every day, we play when we get home. We watch tv, eat and go to bed. I can’t even call him a pet with how much he means to me, he’s like family. I have a purpose with him around, we look after each other. And in three weeks we’ll be able to move and begin a whole new life. A better life.”

My fingers flip the page only to be hit with a sad realization: this is Courtney’s last entry.

“December 10th 89’- My life is complete! I am happy. I have been many things in my life many times over but happy is not one of them. I’ve ripped out the pages in this book that no longer fit the version of myself I see today. I have Bowzer who gives my life purpose. I have a passport to Paris that gives my life meaning. And I have a clean conscience, which gives me a reason to pursue all my dreams. Life has finally turned around for me and I will go on living with the hopes that my tragedies and triumphs can be a lesson to others, even if only one other person cares I existed.”

I’m a full-grown man sobbing alone in his apartment. It’s a complicated cry, mixed with the hope from her words and the brutal truth of her demise. I don’t focus on the missing pages because she chose not to share those stories and that’s fair. I also don’t need to know how she died, nor do I want to. This story she left behind made me care about her regardless. I’m glad she never gave up hope.

                             THE END