A Delicate Freedom

His eye stung as the smoke gravitated toward his face. James rubbed his eyes until they regained focus and stopped tearing. It was a hazy, misty morning of a typical autumn day and the air around him laid heavy and saturated. He took a couple of drags from his freshly lit cigarette and then stamped it out on the bottom of his sneaker. It left an acrid taste in his mouth. James thought he would find comfort from an old habit even though he had quit years ago. All it did was increase his anxiety. He was nervous.

James put his hands in his coat pocket and thumbed the pages of his little black book. It was so familiar to him that he could feel, without looking, where he had made his last entry. The cover was soft from wear and stained with the sweat and oils of his hands from everyday use. The elastic band that embraced the covers of the notebook was still taught and kept it tidy. He never went anywhere without it.

From the time he started earning money, James kept a running record of every penny he earned and spent. Year after year, he would transcribe all his fiscal activities in the little black book he kept on his person. He lined his shelf with them, each one representing his accounts for the year. This wasn’t a learned behavior that was encouraged by his parents or a teacher. It was such a natural instinct for him to keep a list of all of his transactions that he never questioned it. Whatever compelled him to buy his first black notebook and make his first entry, he continued to do so without a second thought.

James took the book out of his pocket and looked at the entry from the day before:

10/25 Cash Deposit $20,000

He recognized his own handwriting. He had made the entry but had no recollection of it. He was confused.

Every morning James went down to the coffee shop located on the first floor of his apartment building and grabbed a cup of coffee. Every morning after his purchase, he scratched in his notebook the name of the coffee shop and the amount he spent.

This morning was no different than any other, except when he opened his notebook to make his entry, he noticed the last entry made from the day before. $20,000 had been written in. He was shocked. He pulled out his phone as he waited for his coffee and checked his bank balance. It was confirmed. $20,000 had indeed been deposited into his account.

James was unsettled and felt beads of sweat accumulating at the base of his neck. He heard his name called but could not respond. He was frozen. Again, his name was called.

The barista he knew placed her hand on his and presented him with his cup of coffee. James was startled. He grabbed his coffee without thanking her and rushed out the door. He went directly to the corner newsstand and bought a pack of cigarettes. He was unable to process what had just happened. He let his legs carry him as if mere inertia kept him moving down the block, across the street, and into the park. He unintentionally picked a park bench, sat down and lit a cigarette.

James kept playing the activities of the day before back in his mind. It was like any other day. He got coffee, went to work, went home, ate dinner, watched television, and slept. He had not made a special trip to the bank.

James had an average life with an average routine. There was once a time where he could have made something of himself. He excelled in school and was popular amongst his classmates, but he was always plagued with this sense of unfulfillment. This burden has always held him back from reaching what most people felt would be his full potential. He went through the subscribed milestones that were expected of his generation until he reached his post-college years.

Upon graduation, instead of continuing on with law school, James took a paralegal job with a small law firm intending to pursue a higher degree after taking a couple of years off. He continued working there until he was offered a promotion and instead of advancing his career, he decided to move to another firm, accepting a job that he was clearly overqualified for. He continued this pattern until he couldn’t even be bothered with finding his own job and signed up with a temp agency where he would be placed, when needed, at jobs that were below his capability.

For the most part, he completed his work. He was neither extraordinary nor inferior. He mostly just went unnoticed. It was as if over the years, he had buried his ambitions and forgotten how to live. Yet, he liked to account for every penny he earned, saved, and spent. He felt that recording that down tethered him to a world that he felt listless in.

So, it was especially peculiar that this windfall would come upon him. James preferred stability over surprise and his mundane life was established by design. James could not think of one person in the world that would leave him this amount of cash.

Perhaps it was a mistake?

Did someone deposit it into the wrong account?

What would he do with it?

The air had cleared by the time James came out of his trance. The foot traffic had increased and there were more people utilizing the park. He could hear voices of people conversing as they walked by. He looked up at the sky and the clouds had parted, showing the hazy sun of an autumn day.

James once again released the elastic of his notebook and flipped to the page of yesterday’s entry.

10/25 Cash Deposit $20,000

James stood up and headed out of the park, leaving the pack of cigarettes and his notebook on the bench. He went to do the only thing he could. Spend it.