Better Days

The neon pizza sign on the corner of 1st and Lafayette flashed through the window in my small second-story apartment. The relentless wind of the city whistled through the cracks in the sill. A tiny soul that occupied all of my heart slept one room over at the base of my bed in the same crib I slumbered in 25 years ago.

My spine popped as I dropped into the most unforgiving wooden desk chair. Running my hands together, I blew warm air into my palms and closed my tired eyes. Obnoxious laughter from a group of college girls exiting the pizza parlor brought me back to reality. I tapped on a little black notebook with the end of a pen. It was my journal of daily endeavors, cherished moments, and life lessons to share with Ellie as she grew. On Saturday nights, I would flip back and review all the beautiful details I would someday surely forget. I learned from my mistakes and jotted down goals for the upcoming days, and when I could, I would sprinkle in words of wisdom passed down from my parents.

“Always do what’s right,” my mom would say. Dad added his thoughts in a low, deep voice with a finger wave, “Do well for yourself. And do well by others. Everyone needs a dose of patience mixed with kindness.” He was a wonderful man, not someone who would leave behind his wife and a small child.

I swallowed the rock in my throat, opened the sleek black cardboard cover, and tugged the bright blue ribbon placed back six days. It was a gift from my boss at the grocery store. She understood my love of writing and presented it as a token of thanks for picking up a last-minute shift. It was my favorite and the most expensive one I owned.

The wall clock ticked and blended in with the few remaining sounds of the city. I rubbed my neck and eyes then focused.

November 15

My sweet Ellie, you don’t feel well. A fever and stuffy nose kept us both up all night. You can’t breathe and drink your bottle at the same time. Your tears and the cutest frown ever to grace a tiny face break me. The apartment is so cold. The kids upstairs keep running and jumping. I pulled you close and tucked you into the curve of my abdomen, where you cooed and sniffled before falling asleep. The strawberry blond peach fuzz on your head brushed across my chin. Inhaling, I smiled and sank into the baby smell I adore so much. These are the moments I will someday miss.

November 16

Morning came fast, and Mrs. Picks was over right on time. I hailed a cab, which drove me to work on the outskirts of the city. It was a long day. The local weather lady reported on a winter storm heading our way, and all the scared humans ran out to buy their milk and bread. Rushed and angry they scurried around one another. Cart after cart of the crabbiest people. Why was everybody so mad? Hundreds of dollars of food rolled down my belt, and even coloring books and crayons for the screaming kids throwing tantrums rolled across the scanner. Stressed or spoiled?

You were sound asleep when I returned. Mrs. Picks said you drank well, tried to roll over, and blew raspberries for the first time. I’m sad I missed it, but I love how you’re growing.

I flipped the page, stroking the ribbon between my fingers.

November 17

I started my afternoon shift with Mr. Vargas. Oh, Ellie. I hope you never encounter a person like him. He never smiles. He coughs and barks out orders. Today his skin was grey, and his eyes sunken. His phlegm was worse than usual. It was gross. His arm shook as he slammed dog and cat food onto the belt. I attempted some small talk, but he ignored my comments. The bagger loaded everything into his cart. But then a strange thing happened. He turned back, and without a smile, he simply stated, “Don’t give up. There are still better days ahead.” The bagger glanced at me and shrugged his shoulders. I watched him leave, thinking about his words.

I picked up an extra shift again and missed most of my day with you. I am so sorry. Mrs. Pick’s started videotaping. She shows me when I come home, and she has promised to load them on some stick or something I can use one day when we have a computer. An angel surely sent her.

November 18

The storm hit today. It took longer than usual to get to work. I saw Mr. Vargas walking against the wind up the city street. I don’t know where that crazy old man was going, but he was the only one out on foot.

The falling snow is enchanting. I can’t wait to see your blue eyes light up with the magical sight of snowflakes. I will take you to a park and a fun place to play when you’re older. I bet you’ll love to sled.

November 19

I am so exhausted, sweet Ellie. My eyes burn. I could use a day off—Goodnight, sweet pea.

I added some small hearts and colored them in with a red pen, and then I switched back to black to write today’s entry.

November 20

One of my coworkers overheard Mr. Vargas requesting my manager one day late last week. He was with a young woman that I didn’t recognize by the description. They referenced my name. What did he want to complain about? I don’t need him jeopardizing my job. I’ve been nothing but kind. I tried to talk to my manager, but she left before I could get a break. My heart is racing. Is this old creep stalking me? I vented about him all day. I took a cab home and nervously watched over my shoulder. He scares me. I rushed Mrs. Picks out the door and dead-bolted it.

I closed up the notebook, double-checked the lock and chain on my door, fixed Ellie’s swaddle, and fell into bed.

I woke the next morning to my first day off in over a week and put my negative thoughts on hold for my day with Ellie. I fed her first bites of rice cereal and laughed as she wrinkled her face and pushed the food out with her tongue. Her smile returned. We played and practiced rolling on the floor.

I put Ellie down for her nap when there was a knock at my door. My heart stopped. No one ever visited. I walked over slowly as the stranger on the other side softly tapped three more times. I peeked through the eyehole and saw a lanky girl standing there in an evergreen puffer jacket with the hood pulled up.

I opened the door without removing the chain. “Hi, can I help you? I asked.”

“Are you Sara Hayes,” the young girl softly responded?

“Yes, who’s asking?” I un-latched the chain and opened the door. She pulled her hood back and brushed the hair from her reddened and freckled face, then wiped her nose with her sleeve.

“Sorry, she said, it’s so bitter cold out here.”

I just nodded.

“I think you knew my father, Mr. Vargas.” She whispered.

I stared into her harmless green eyes. Why was she here? Did she come to criticize me too? I should push her out into the hall, slam the door shut and call the police. But I didn’t. I replied, “Yes,” and let her go on.

“He passed away two days ago in his sleep.”

My arms dropped to my sides, my jaw tightened, “But I just saw him at the store and on the road the other day.”

“He had been sick for some time now,” she went on. “And even in his last of days, he was out buying food for his pets, taking care of his business, and seeing those he cared about one last time. He didn’t want others to know how painful it was. He didn’t take well to pity.”

“I’m so sorry.” I was too. Her sadness was all too familiar. Yet I still couldn’t comprehend why she was standing in my doorway, speaking about a man who wasn’t all the nice to me. She continued after a moment of awkward silence.

“Thank you, it’s hard on all of us, but he’s with my mom now. She died several years ago, and he has never been the same. He had no life left to enjoy after her death.”

Her tears welled, “Anyway, you’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

I nervously picked at my lips while she pulled out a large manila envelope from the inside of her coat, “This is for you, from him.”

She released the thick envelope into my hands then signaled for me to open it. I lifted the flap and gasped. Stacks of one hundred dollars bills lined the inside.

“It’s 20 thousand,” she replied.

“What,” was all I could muster? I pulled her into my apartment with my other hand and closed the door behind her. My voice cracked, “I don’t understand.”

She squeezed my free hand, “The grocery store was one of his favorite spots. He meandered through and listened to all the stories from the familiar families. He didn’t stalk or creep; he just paid attention. It jostled memories of my mom he had forgotten. But learning of someone’s hardships was difficult for him. Whether it was a child, a family, or even a stray animal, he always offered aid. You were one he wanted to help.”

She pointed to the envelope, “He left a note for you too, but I bet he didn’t give himself enough credit. I came to share with you the amazing man he was. Illness stole him from all of us, but it’s not how we should remember him. Please let his love shine bright and share it with others. Do well with it. Good luck.”

Tears trickled down to the small smile she shared with me. Then she turned and walked out. I closed the door behind her.

I ran over to the window where she eventually hopped into the waiting cab and disappeared. I dumped the contents onto the desk and sifted through the stacks of crisp, freshly minted bills. My conscious wavered as I glanced back at the crack in the bedroom door. I read his thoughtful note and then opened my journal.

November 21

Mr. Vargas—Thank you for the gift and the lesson. I was taught to be kind, but I had some missteps along the way. I made terrible assumptions about you, and I wasn’t nice behind your back. I am embarrassed and sorry. I will honor you. I regret not spending more time trying to understand your backstory. I know all too well what it’s like to watch a loved one miss their partner. I don’t know that there will ever be a cure for that type of loss; even so, I should have done more.

Mom and Dad-I’m still a work in progress, but learning and grateful for all you taught me. We all have hardships and less than perfect days. I hope to not only change the outcome of my story but help sweeten someone else’s.

To you, Ellie, I offer my first words of newly created wisdom. Sometimes those you find cruel may surprise you in the most wonderful ways. Try always to look past the hardened shell that protects the love hiding in their heart. If you do, better days will always come.

To Do:

-Buy Ellie a new toy

-Give Mrs. Picks a bonus

-Donate to the local homeless shelter

-Pick out a new pretty little black notebook