Chump Change

Every morning she woke with the same thought. Maybe today will be the extraordinary day when Johnny gets his miracle.

But it never was.

BILL

The waitress's long brown hair was caught back in a ponytail today; she already looked tired as she placed his plate down. "You need anything else, Bill?"

He eyed her balefully. She was nice to him because she expected a tip. "Yeh, tell the cook he’s cheating me: he gave me three pieces of bacon yesterday, but only two today." She gave him a weak smile and walked off.

He had just shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth when his cell phone rang. It was George. He picked up the phone. "You got my money, George?”

The person on the other end of the phone hesitated. "Is this Bill Raskins?"

Hmmm. Definitely not George. "You're the one who called me, buddy," he said, taking another forkful.

"This is Don Smith. You were harassing my dad this morning. You stole coins off his kitchen table when you left."

Oh ho ho. So ol' George had a son. Things were about to get interesting.

"Don, your Dad owes me money; $200 for the yard work I did for him and for taking off his trash." Of course, he hadn't taken off George's trash; he'd dumped it over the back fence. But Don didn't know that.

"Mr. Raskins, return those coins and we’ll talk."

"I didn't steal anything. He owes me money and now you are slandering me. Maybe I should call the cops,” Bill whined.

"Mr. Raskins, those were collectable coins. Bring them back and we can talk money."

Now Bill hesitated. Shit. He'd stolen something valuable? His earlier comment about the police was a bluff: he didn't need any police involvement. He still had another year of parole.

He abruptly hung up on Donnie-boy. Appetite gone, Bill shoved back from the table and headed for the exit.

Once he reached the waiting area, he pulled the small handful of coins from his pocket. He passed them from one hand to the other. There was nothing here of value. Pennies, nickels, and a couple of dimes. Chump change.

He suddenly remembered crazy George’s little black notebook. He probably had those coins written down. Yes sir, he needed to dump them.

His eyes lit on the begging jar by the cash register, as he liked to call it. The one for the waitress's kid. Perfect: if George's son called the cops, they'd find nothing on him. He dumped the change in the jar and then pushed on through the door. He had to get out of town—fast.

JENNIFER

Jennifer scanned the room, her gaze stopping on the corner booth where Bill Raskins was sitting a minute ago when she dropped off his plate. Where was he? Shoot! If that old man skipped out on her again…

Frantic waves from across the room caught her attention: two of her favorite customers flagging her down. Petey, a long-distance truck driver, and Junior, his son who always rode along on those overnight trips. A smile lit her face as she hustled over.

"Hey guys, good to see you here. What can I get you?" She pulled two packets of silverware from her bright red apron and flipped over the coffee mugs.

"Give me the regular, Jennifer. Oh, and I got a question for you. Which states are still missing?" Petey asked in his booming voice.

"Johnny needs Hawaii, Alaska, and both of the Dakotas, Petey." She turned to face Junior. "How 'bout you, Junior?"

"2 eggs , scrambled, grits and toast," he answered.

"What, no bacon? No sausage?" she teased.

"I gotta lose a few pounds. Doctor's orders," Junior shrugged.

Petey feigned a look of outrage on Junior’s behalf. “I think the boy’s at a good fighting weight myself, but whatcha gonna do, doctors these days got to nag about something.” He pulled a coin out of his shirt pocket and slid it across the table to Jennifer.

"Oh my goodness, Petey, Johnny is going to be so happy! Thank you! You will make his day with this one." She slipped the quarter into one of her pockets. "You guys are too sweet," she added, her eyes tearing up a little.

"Now don't go on with the water works," Junior teased. "You know we would do anything we could for your boy."

“And for you, Jennifer. We notice the things you do around here to help local folks. Like that coat drive you did. Oh, and the school supplies for the kids stuck at home right now,” Petey said.

She nodded, too emotional to speak. Steadying herself, she huskily said, "Thanks, guys. I'll be back with your coffee."

Jennifer walked back into the kitchen. She called out the orders, then reached under the counter where she stashed her purse. She held the quarter up towards Stan, the diner owner who was also manning the grill today. "Alaska!" she said.

"Awesome. He's almost there, isn't he?"

Jennifer nodded, setting up a tray with sugar, creamer and stir sticks. The coffee pot was almost empty, so she quickly started another pot.

"Oh, don't forget to take the coin jar when you leave today, Jennifer. There's a lot of money in there, and some of it's even folding money."

"Thank you, Stan, I will. We hit $2000 last month. In 6 months! People are so generous."

"That they are. The regulars are rooting for Johnny.”

Jennifer crossed to the door, blinking back more tears. The regulars gave all they could spare to the jar. She scanned the room again. No Bill. She sighed. "Looks like Bill Raskins skipped out on his bill."

Stan shook his head. "Clear his table. A zebra can’t change his stripes, Jennifer. You tried being nice to that mean old man, and he ran out on you anyways.”

Jennifer shook her head. “You never know what people are dealing with, Stan. He must have had one miserable life.”

“You’re more optimistic than anyone I know, Jennifer. Maybe it will pay off someday.”

“I don’t look for pay offs. I just try to make people’s days a little brighter, that’s all.” She gathered up the coffee tray and the fresh pot of coffee, then headed back into the dining room.

JOHNNY

The lights blinked on and off in rapid succession. Johnny looked up from his computer. Reggie ran for the front door, the labrador’s tail sweeping back and forth rapidly. Must be Mom. Johnny stood up, stretched, then headed towards the living room. After looking through the peep hole, he opened the door. He took the Stan’s Diner bag from her hands and gave her a quick hug.

His mom made eye contact. "Thanks, babe."

He held up the bag, shooting her a questioning look. "Your favorite, meatloaf and mashed potatoes," she signed. He gave her an exaggerated grin, finished off with a waggle of his eyebrows. That drew a laugh. He placed the bag on the kitchen counter and removed the containers. From the corner of his eye he spotted his mom settling the jar of coins on the coffee table before heading towards her bedroom.

Johnny peeked inside the containers. Meatloaf, potatoes and a full loaf of homemade bread. His mouth was watering as the tempting smell of warm meatloaf wafted to his nose. He retrieved ketchup and butter from the fridge, and then grabbed the pitcher of sweet tea. They would eat off china plates: they had nixed eating from styrofoam containers soon after the diner job had come through.

JENNIFER

Jennifer walked back into the living room and glanced over at her son. He was so thoughtful. He'd already set the table and was busy moving their dinner onto her good china. She flipped the quarter around her fingers. He was going to be so happy to get that coin. He had gotten a late start on collecting state quarters. Once the pandemic had hit and he spent all his time at home, he'd started collecting coins.

She had worried that distance learning might be difficult for her already-shy son, but he had thrived. He was able to use a type-to-speak program so his classmates could hear his classroom responses. It had enabled him to chat with friends after school as well.

Well, one day she'd be able to get Johnny the cochlear implant. $22,000 had once seemed out of reach, but now only $20,000 stood between a non-hearing Johnny and a hearing Johnny. Progress.

She sat down at the table, signing, "Thanks for getting everything ready, sweetheart."

He smiled. “No problem,” he signed back.

She rolled the quarter across the table, grinning at his delighted expression when he realized what it was. "We have the jar money to go through after supper, too."

Johnny nodded at her. They would dump the jar of money onto his bed. He’d add some coins to his burgeoning collection, then they would roll the coins and get the week’s total.

GEORGE

It was already dark outside.

George shot a look of dismay at Don. Once he'd realized Bill Raskins had stolen those coins, he'd called Don. Don had tried to track down the rotten thief, to no avail. Don was now arguing with the cops.

George thumbed through the tiny book where he recorded the special coins he’d found over the years. The last entry was the most valuable of all. The 1992-D close AM penny. The penny contained a rare error: the bottom of the letter 'A' almost touched the base of the letter 'M'. And one like it just sold for over $20,000. He felt nauseous.

He remembered the day he had found that coin. Well, ‘found’ wasn’t exactly the word to use. Mrs. Alcott, from two streets over, asked him to look through her dead husband’s coin collection.

He’d pointed out a couple of coins worth a few hundred dollars. Even gave her the name of a man who would buy them from her. He’d done a good deed—without pay, mind you. It might have been different if she’d paid him for his time. But no—that old bat had just given him a cup of hot tea for his troubles. So it didn’t feel wrong to pocket that one penny when he left. She’d never miss it.

But now he was regretting that he’d never taken a photo of that penny. He had just recorded it in the book. He had no real proof that the penny had ever been in his possession. Don was arguing about that right now.

"Sir, I am telling you, these were collectible coins. You can't just report the face value. My Dad has to make a homeowners claim," Don insisted.

"Mister, you told me it was about twenty pennies, four nickels and two dimes. That ain't even a dollar. I can't file a report for that," the police officer countered. The officer closed his notepad, nodded towards George, and stepped out the door.

Don wheeled towards him, his face clouding up in fury. “This is all your fault, old man!” he yelled. “If you’d just taken pictures of those coins when I told you to!” He raised his fist as he walked towards George, who cowered back in his chair.

JOHNNY AND JENNIFER

"Mom!"

Jennifer jerked. Johnny rarely spoke, preferring to use sign language. He hadn't heard cry out like this in years. She ran towards the bedroom.

He met her in the doorway with his coin book in hand, his features alight with excitement.

"What is it, sweetheart? What did you find?"

Trembling, he pointed to the entry for a 1992 penny. Value: $20,000. She peered into Johnny’s face, seeing the radiant expression, then looked at his hand. He opened his fist, revealing the rare penny. Johnny caught her as her knees gave out.

It had turned out to be an extraordinary day after all.