The Misunderstanding

Matt sat on a bench at the metro station, idly watching passengers disembark into the pouring rain. From the shelter of his covered seat, their reactions as they stepped out into the tempest made him smile; hoods that had been pulled down for the ride, lay draped, lifeless and sopping, only to be whipped again overhead with a sharp crack of fabric and spray of mist. The faces, bright with the anticipation of an arrival soon faltered to a grimace as they shrugged down their shoulders and joined the bustling throngs of travelers wandering in their intended directions.

It wasn’t like Matt to take joy in the misery of others, but on a day like today, the only way to keep himself from occupying his mind with the unfortunate situation that lay ahead of him was to throw his focus entirely into every little detail of the strangers existing in front of him. Over the last few weeks, every single shred of Matt’s attention had been paid solely on ways to gather up the funding to save his home. Work had drifted into the background, even driving home felt like watching the car scenes on an old television show, the kind where the background screen doesn’t quite match the haphazard jerking of the steering wheel, as the increasingly threadbare fabric of his reality struggled to blanket the problem.

Thoughts of his wife, of those days spent aside her bed as she struggled in and out of existence crept into his mind as he struggled to blink them away. Shaking his head, he tilted his glance over his shoulder in the direction of the incoming passengers that had been gathering in anticipation of the next train’s arrival. Seeing the huddled figures shuffling in against the driving rain wasn’t nearly as distracting, or rewarding, as watching the arriving passengers, but Matt did his best to pay as much attention to their features as they continued in his direction.

Matt was watching a tall man in a thin green rain shell fight with the buffeting wind as it whipped his hood about his shoulders. Turning around, the man tried to use the wind to his advantage and allow the hood to reach a more accessible position but instead, the twisted, saturated fabric smacked him squarely across the face as he turned to look for it. Matt laughed aloud at the sight, and it was only as the man stooped in disgust that Matt noticed a woman behind him that did not look like the rest.

Standing tall and dignified, in a beautiful slate wool overcoat not yet saturated by the downpour, the woman was walking with such a focused intensity that she’d clearly not even noticed the spectacle of the man in front of her. Initially, Matt had thought the woman had caught his eye because of her incredible beauty, as she certainly was that, but upon further inspection it was her demeanor that stood this woman apart from the crowd. She did not hunch in anticipation of the gusts of wind, nor did she take the time to sidestep the growing puddles on the pavement despite the open toes of her high heels which, at this point, had to be completely soaked. It was as though this woman was drifting through the scene without being a part of it, or rather, without letting it influence her existence in the slightest.

For a moment Matt thought this was a brazen defiance to the demands of the weather, but there was something unsettlingly absent about the way in which the woman’s indifference manifested; Matt wondered if this was how he looked when he found himself gripped by the realities of his situation when he was out in the world, trying to interact in his environment as though his mind was present. Striding uniformly up the small curb to the platform and through the puddle of rainwater that had formed in front of Matt’s bench, the woman passed without so much as a glance in any direction but the doors of the car a few down from them. The train had been stopped for some time now, and the increasing hustle of the passengers made it clear to Matt that the train would be departing soon, yet the woman still did not alter her stride.

As she was passing, the woman was momentarily assaulted by a strong gust that left the entire group of passengers hunched over and bracing. The woman, despite having been in the same downpour as the rest, had not yet even taken the time to tie the tie-belt on her coat, and the gust left the tails luffing wildly behind her. Finding a pocket with each hand, she wrapped herself tighter and quickly cleared the remaining distance to the car doors. In the struggle to correct her coat, Matt noticed, the woman had allowed a small black notebook to fall from her pocket and land in the puddle in front of him. The gusts of wind had flipped the cover open and a few pages exploded like feathers from a game bird, carried off down the platform into oblivion.

Matt sprung from his post on the bench and scooped the notebook out of the puddle, hoping to return it to its owner. “Ma’am, Ma’am!” He cried in the direction of the next car. The woman, just as she was stepping into the car, must have realized the absence of the book in her pocket and turned sharply to see Matt trying to wave her down. The doors began to close, so Matt instinctively hopped into the car in front of him, assuming he’d be able to walk it up to her.

With the doors closed behind him, however, he realized that he could see down into the car in front of him but did not see the woman. Looking out the windows of the car as the train began to move, he saw the woman frantically searching for him. There was a moment where the two locked eyes through the glass, and the look of terror plastered across the woman’s face wasn’t improved by the sight of Matt’s confused and dumbfounded expression.

Even though the next train would not arrive for another 20 or so minutes, Matt figured he could at least wait at the next stop and hope the woman arrives, which would still give him enough time to hop on a train in the other direction and make his appointment with the bank. Matt took the opportunity to look down at the notebook, interested in surveying the damage. The small, black pocket notebook appeared to be brand new, save for the visible wrinkling on the edges from its brief swim in the puddle outside of the train car. Flipping the top open, Matt noticed the jagged remains of the two pages, the casualties of the earlier gusting winds. The third page, though badly dotted from droplets of rain, was securely held by the elastic closure stretched tightly across its bottom third.

Matt paused a moment, his eyes wandering over the pages without focus, unsure of whether or not he felt comfortable wandering into this strange woman’s life through whatever may be written on the page. After convincing himself there could be something significant in the words, Matt looked over the puzzling text. It appeared to be the tail end of a list of instructions, written in neatly masculine block lettering.

BOARD THE FOURTH CAR. STAND IN THE DOORWAY FOR THE DURATION. FACE FORWARD, DO NOT TURN AROUND.

Upon reading the last few words, Matt couldn’t help but glance carefully around the train. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but a cursory examination of the rest of the car did not give him any indication that anybody noticed his existence.

Given the tone of the instruction, it was clear to Matt why the woman had been behaving so strangely. Briefly, he considered whether or not he should call the police, but quickly decided that he’d better read the rest of the text first.

EXIT THE CAR AT ORENCO STATION. WALK NORTH PAST THE FOUNTAIN INTO THE PARKING STRUCTURE.

Orenco Station! That was the next stop! Matt’s interest grew.

FOLLOW THE RAMP UP THE STRUCTURE TO THE THIRD FLOOR. GO TO THE NW CORNER. BEHIND THE BLUE CAR THERE WILL BE A BRIEFCASE WITH THE MONEY. DO NOT OPEN THE BRIEFCASE

Money!? Matt couldn’t believe what he was reading! The year had been nothing but chaos for him; he’d lost his job caring for his wife, and when she’d passed, the resulting medical bills had wiped out his savings. Depression had left him struggling to maintain employment, and the banks’ threats of foreclosure had reached a fury pace. Would it be right of him to investigate this briefcase on his own?

Matt read further down the list of instructions, which went on for three subsequent pages. It seemed as though the woman was being instructed to transport the briefcase to another location, where it would be stashed according to very specific parameters, and then she was supposed to leave. None of this made any sense, he thought. After another glance around the train car, he felt assured that nobody was watching him. The train was stopping at Orenco Station.

Matt’s mind raced as he tried to evaluate what he should do with the information in this notebook. It did not seem that the woman was the intended recipient of the briefcase, so Matt felt he could probably warrant sneaking into the parking structure to investigate before the woman arrived. He was sure that she would be able to remember the next few steps of the instructions, and would likely be on the next train either way.

Making the decision, he disembarked the train, focused on the fountain, and the structure that loomed beyond. Fear and anticipation heightened his sense as he allowed his gaze to dart around inconspicuously in an attempt to locate anybody paying him any attention. A few steps later, Matt realized he’d been walking in the same sterile and unmolested manner as the woman who had caught his eye. Trying to be more casual, he ducked into the structure and proceeded to the third floor. Squinting through the darkness, he saw a blue car! His pace quickened, as he listened carefully for any signs of pursuit.

As was instructed, a briefcase lay tipped against the rear bumper of the vehicle. His heart in his throat, Matt carefully fingered the handle, then the sides, of the case. Peeking in the windows of the vehicle showed it to be completely empty, as though a freshly maintained rental. “Ok,” he thought, “now’s the time. Do I go back to find the woman, or grab this thing and get the hell outta here?” His mind flashed back to when he opened that first letter from the hospital, how the blood had rushed from his face when he saw how many zeroes were on the bill. “Screw this,” he thought, “It’s my turn.”

Matt quickly laid the case over and opened it. Inside, neatly banded stacks of 100s stared back at him. He could not believe his luck! Picking up a stack, he thumbed through the bills, still in awe at their existence. Not able to help himself, but feeling the urgency of the situation and his need for a quick escape, Matt hurriedly plucked another stack from the case, hoping to not come away empty handed if he found the need to ditch the briefcase in his escape. As soon as his fingers made contact with the second stack, however, Matt’s world exploded in a blinding flash.

BOOM!

Momentarily losing his grasp on reality, Matt tried to sort through the blurred vision and ringing ears. He tried to stand, but realized he was face down with an immense weight on his back. As the ringing cleared, he heard a muffled voice yelling, “How the Hell’d you find our briefcase??”