Elsa's Little Black Book

The sun was setting on the horizon of Highway 57 as Alanson’s girlfriend pulled the truck over. She had metaphorically blown a fuse.

“Alanson!” she shouted. “Get out!”

She leaned over the seat of her dad’s Chevrolet and opened the passenger side door. “Out!” she demanded as she pushed against Al’s shoulder, shoving him toward the open door. Alanson looked at her confused. This morning she said she loved him, and now she was breaking up with him over his taste in music? If they were going to drive 3 hours east for a campout, at least they could compromise on the tunes… but apparently that was too much to ask.

Alanson got out of the car, grabbed his backpack, and closed the door. Completely baffled, he looked through the window as Dana put the car into gear, cranked up the stereo, and sped off. As the blue Chevy disappeared, Al cringed. The sun was going down, he had a hole in his Converse, and he was stranded 15 miles from home.

“Great.” he thought.

He looked down at his shoes. His right big toe was peeking through the rubber. He wiggled it, scoffed, and then kicked the dirt as he turned toward the sun. He threw his hands behind his head and took a deep breath in as he looked up toward the sky. Then his arms stretched wide as he exhaled, looking both directions along the highway. There was not a car in sight. Defeated, he began walking. He was losing daylight, but on the bright side, he had his air pods and a fully charged iPod.

“Who doesn’t like Fleetwood Mac?”, he asked his playlist of Classic Rock.

Apparently Dana, because she was willing to leave him on the side of the road over it.

Annoyed, yet accepting, Alanson continued walking into the sunset. He sang out loud to “Dreams”, not caring that it’s trending popularity made it seem overplayed. He loved the song and it made him feel good, so he listened. Luckily for Al, he was a naturally optimistic person. He didn’t mind the walk. To be honest, he didn’t even want to go camping. Dana had invited him to join some of her friends, only one of which he had met before, and frankly he wasn’t a big fan. Her name was Kelly, and he found her to be very annoying. He would rather be at home anyway, working on the land.

As he walked, he started visualizing his home. It was really more of a barn with running water than an actual house. He inherited a small piece of land from his father right before he passed away, and his final wishes were that Al would make something out of the property.

Son, I know I don’t have much to leave you. The house is your mothers, and I don’t have a fortune, but I do have the property by Opal Lake and I want you to have it. You could build a house, a garden, or whatever you want son. Just make something out of it, will ya?

It was one of the last conversations he had with his father before his heart failure. Al stopped walking at the memory, and placed his hand over his own heart. The sun had gone down, but a full moon lit up the night sky and the stars blazed overhead. A tear had formed as Alanson remembered his father, and it slowly streamed down his face as he closed his eyes.

“I love you dad,” he whispered.

At that moment, his break-up felt completely irrelevant. He didn’t cry over Dana, considering they had only been dating for two weeks, but the thought of his father, who passed away a little over one year ago, made his heart ache. He wiped the tear from his face with the cuff of his sweatshirt and then noticed something on the ground about 3 feet ahead of him.

“What is that?”, he wondered.

He took a few steps forward, squinting at what appeared to be a small black book on the ground. He bent over and picked it up, wiping away the dust. The book was very worn and looked like it had been sitting there for weeks. Rained on, possibly. Definitely old. He opened the book, and its pages were filled to the brim of names, addresses, and phone numbers. There was not a single empty line in the book and somehow the text filled it just perfectly. However, there was one page missing, right smack dab in the middle.

“Hmh,” he mumbled as he ran his finger down the torn edge, curious.

He flipped to the front of the book and read the text on the inside of the cover.

If found, please return to:

Elsa Cross

1224 E Pine Ln

Dixonville, TN

“East Pine Lane?” he whispered, “I know that street.”

He closed the notebook, shrugged his backpack off, and placed the book in his bag.

“Don’t worry Elsa, I will get this back to you,” he said to the stars.

As soon as Alanson began walking again, he heard something in the distance. He turned his head and saw a pair of headlights.

“Maybe they will stop,” he thought as he stuck out his thumb. Sure enough, the white Toyota pickup pulled over and the door opened before Al even approached the vehicle. He raised an eyebrow.

"What was with people opening doors for him?" he wondered as he walked up to the truck.

“Get in Sweetheart! Where you headed? Memphis?” An older woman with grey hair and a rose scented air freshener waved him in, “Come on, I aint gonna bite ya.”

Alanson climbed in the truck and closed the door. “Thank you,” he said. “Memphis is fine.”

“Is that where you live?” she asked.

“Sort of. I live on Opal Lake, but I actually need to return something that I found to 1224 E Pine Ln in Dixonville. Do you know where that is?”

“Oh yeah honey,” she replied, “I’ve lived in Memphis my whole life, born and raised. I know the outskirts like the back of my hand. Well, just let me know where you’d like me to take ya. I don’t mind.”

“Pine Lane, please.”

Alanson felt the urge to deliver the black book to its owner right away. He could feel that the book was important to someone, and that it was being missed.

The woman reached toward the stereo and turned up the volume.

“Oh, thunder, only happens when it's raining

Players, only love you when they're playing

They say women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know"

She was singing along to “Dreams.”

Alanson smiled and shook his head, then let out a little laugh.

“I know you ain’t laughing at my singing young man. You know this song? You’re too young to know this song. You know this song?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I know this song. My girlfriend just dumped me over this song.” He was laughing. “That’s how I ended up on the side of the road.”

“Oh baby boy, she was no good for you. Left you stranded on the side of the road? What about the coyotes out here? You’re lucky I found ya before they did,” she said in amusement.

He hadn’t even thought about that. Grateful for the ride, he pressed his forehead against the window and listened as the woman continued singing to his favorite song.

About 20 minutes later, they pulled up to a house that looked familiar.

“Is this it?” Alanson asked.

“1224 E Pine Lane- yep, this is it,” she replied.

“Okay, thank you. Um, I didn’t get your name. My name is Alanson.”

“Nice to meet you Alanson, my name is Patricia, but everyone out here calls me Bunny. I have a dozen of ‘em at home,” she winked. “Best of luck to you Alanson, it was a pleasure.”

They both smiled as he nodded and closed the door. While she drove away, Al turned toward the house. It was a beautiful Spanish style house on the corner, and it was a house he had passed by many times. He grew up in this neighborhood, which was how he was able to recognize the address. Al didn’t know who lived there, but he remembered walking by this house every day on his way to school.

The lights were on, so he unzipped his bag and pulled out the black notebook. There was a hint of excitement within him as he approached the door. He knocked, and a few seconds later a woman peeked through the curtains.

“Whose there?” she shouted.

“Uhm, ma’am, my name is Alanson. I was walking along Highway 57 and I found this little black book on the ground. Says it belongs to—"

The door opened, and a very short gray-haired woman grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside.

“Come in, come in,” she said in a hurry.

She grabbed the book from Al’s hands and closed the door behind him.

“You want tea?” she asked while staring at the book.

“Uhm.”

There was a moment of silence. The woman closed her eyes and held the book to her chest. Shaking slightly, she looked up at Al with huge brown eyes and whispered, “thank you.”

“Tea?” she asked again.

“S-s-sure” he replied. It wasn’t like he had other plans anyway.

“Come, come, have a seat. I’ll put on the kettle.”

He removed his backpack and set it down on the chair next to the one she had pulled out for him. The house felt big and empty, but cozy and comforting at the same time. The woman, Elsa, asked how Alanson found the book, and he told her the entire story. He pointed out that a page was missing, but that he could feel that the book was important to somebody.

And it was.

“I have had this Moleskine since 1997. It’s an original. My nephew stole this book from me about a month ago when he came by looking for his father. God only knows where that man is.” She shook her head in disapproval. “My poor nephew grew up without a father. He stayed with me for a little while, and he knew that the only person who might have an idea where his dad could be is Pete Keller, an old friend of his dads. That’s why a page is missing. Although, he didn’t have to take the whole book. I about had a heart attack when I found out. This book is the only place I have all of my contacts information. My family, my church, my friends… I honest to God thought I might never talk to Peggy again!”

The tea kettle began to whistle. Elsa turned off the burner and filled a mug with hot water.

“You like ginger?” she asked.

“Sure ma’am, thank you.”

Elsa walked over to the table with two mugs, the Moleskine, and what appeared to be a checkbook.

“So your girlfriend dumped ya, left you on the side of the road, and now you’re here. Quite an adventurous night you’ve had. Well, I certainly appreciate you comin’ all the way out here to deliver this to me. Can I compensate ya?”

“Oh no ma’am, I don’t expect anything. Just doing a good deed.”

“Listen to me young man. Your father passed away and left you with a barn. You can’t tell me that a little financial help wouldn’t do you good."

She paused.

"How’s $20,000?”

Alanson almost choked on his tea, “Ehem, what?"

Elsa’s pen began to glide across the check.

“What’s your last name son?”

“Bennet.”

“Alanson Bennet,” she repeated as she filled in the line and tore out the check.

“A-a-are you serious?”

“Serious as I am grateful.”

Alanson took the check in disbelief.

"Son," she looked at Al and gently grabbed his hand, "when one door closes, another one always opens.”