Good Day Turned Bad

This is a good day. I just know it. Things are going to start looking up as soon as I get that call.

Hurrying down Madison Avenue to grab my lunchtime coffee, I feel my phone buzzing in my purse. A burst of excitement rushes through me. I’m about to be offered my dream job!

“Hello?” I say, trying not to sound too overenthusiastic, as that’ll make me seem overconfident.

“Hello. May I speak with Sarah?” Mrs. Bransti says.

“This is she!”

“I’m calling to tell you that unfortunately we decided to go with someone else.”

Madison Avenue seems to tilt on its side around me. I was so sure I was going to be offered this job. I was counting on it. “Oh... I’m sad, but I appreciate you taking the time to let me know and to interview me.”

I try and not cry, biting my lip to hold back the tears.

As she starts answering me, I trip over the pavement and fall flat on my face, dropping my purse and phone on the sidewalk. People are staring at me, some laughing, some coming to help.

Could this day get any worse?

As I look down and pick up my phone, I see that the screen is completely smashed. Great. What a good start to the day this is.

I gather my thoughts along with my belongings and walk off, trying desperately to pretend that this didn’t just happen. I decide to head straight home and forget about the coffee. I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. And call my mom. She’ll be so disappointed.

What am I going to do?

I get back to my tiny apartment and take all of my things out of my purse. It’s always such a mess in here; how can I have such a small purse and never find anything? I empty it out in frustration by tipping it upside down.

It takes me a few seconds to notice something that isn’t mine. I pick it up. It’s a small notebook. A small black notebook. Do I dare look inside? Is this an invasion of someone’s privacy? I guess I need to open it to find out who it belongs to.

I start overthinking, as I always do. How did it end up in my purse? Did someone put it in there? Is it a trick? Is something bad going to happen to me if I read it?

“Okay, Sarah. You can do this. Just open the notebook already!”

As I open it, I see a check folded in half between two of the pages. I unfold it—and can’t believe my eyes. My name is written in a delicate cursive script across it: “Sarah Grant.” Then I feel like I’ve been hit by a ten-ton truck when I see that the check is for—wait. What? What is going on?

I rush to my phone and call my mom, thankful that the phone’s still working despite the massive crack stretched across the screen. I don’t even bother to tell Mom about not getting my dream job—I’ve actually forgotten about that for now.

“Mom?”

“Hi, sweetheart,” my mom’s soft voice comes over the line, full of expectation. “Did you get the job?”

“Oh. No, I didn’t. Bu—”

“You didn’t get the job? Oh, love…”

“I have something to tell you! I fell over when I got the call from Mrs. Bransti, an—”

“You fell over? Are you okay?”

“Mom! Let me speak, please. I have something important to tell you! I fell over—and, thank you, yes, I’m okay. Don’t worry, Mom. I picked up all my belongings that fell out of my purse, and when I got home, I found this small black notebook in there. I opened it up and found a check with my name on it. I’m so confused, Mom—how is this possible?”

“Is it perhaps your notebook and you forgot you had it?”

Okay... this isn’t helping. I need to figure it out for myself.

“I’m going to have a look into it a bit more and let you know, Mom. Love you.”

I can’t believe this. I’ve needed extra money for a long time now; my life has been a mess, as I’m sure you can tell at this point. And that check is for… Twenty. Thousand. Dollars!

Do I try and figure this out, or do I just cash in the check and not ask questions? I always ask too many questions, and it never gets me anywhere.

Is someone looking out for me? Have I got a guardian angel? Did someone slip this into my purse as a trick? Is it a scam? Or—see what I mean by asking too many questions?

I can’t breathe properly. I feel happy, stressed, and anxious all at the same time.

Think, Sarah. Calm down. Think! I decide to go to the closest bank and ask them who the mysterious check is from, as there is no name on it. Normally there’s a name—right? Oh, I don’t know anymore!

I walk up to the desk and hand them the magical check. They all start talking and whispering behind the desk, and they’re all looking at me. No—staring at me!

“Excuse me. I’ve received this check, and I’m not sure who it’s from. Could you tell me, please?” I’m starting to feel quite panicked, my heart fluttering like a bird in a cage as they all stare at me like I’ve got something on my face. Oh, perhaps I have. But I can’t check because my phone screen is broken and I don’t have a mirror. Oh, this day!

“Miss... we have been told to not disclose a name. Did you want all of the money now, and did you want it to go straight into your bank account?”

“What do you mean? Who is this person? This notebook isn’t mine—I’ve never seen it before!” I stammer, aware that my words are sounding rushed and garbled. “I found this check in it with my name on it, and now you’re telling me I can’t know who it’s from?”

Perhaps I’m dreaming. That’s it. I pinch my arm to try and wake myself up from this bizarre—yet enjoyable—dream. I don’t wake up, though, because clearly I’m not sleeping. What’s going on?

“We can’t say anything more to you, miss.”

“I guess I’ll have it put into my bank account then, please.”

I walk out of the bank in a state of total confusion.

Is this my new reality? Who is this person who has gifted me this huge lump of money? Did they know I needed it really badly? Is it someone I know?

There I go again, overthinking. Although I guess anyone would be overthinking at this point. This is madness!

I sit down on a bench outside the bank, my mind thinking a thousand different thoughts. Again. But the predominant thought is that this is a good thing. I really needed this. My mom has been terribly sick; she needs some financial help. I have multiple issues going on with my home that should’ve been repaired months ago, but I just don’t have the money.

I take the black notebook out of my purse and flip through the pages to see if I can find anything in there. On the very last page, I come across four words, again in that delicate script: “Madison Square Park 8:00 p.m.”

I feel more worried than I did before, now. I should have waited to cash the check. Oh, no. What have I done?

I decide to head home. Once there, I wait impatiently, my stomach a tight ball of nerves. It gets to 7:30 p.m., and I decide to leave and walk to the park. I bring the small black notebook with me.

Once there, I walk through the park, which is teaming with people—a fact that makes me feel a little better, just in case this is anything weird or dangerous! I have no idea where I’m supposed to be in this park. It’s a huge space!

As I walk, I scan the many faces, deliberately walking close to people, my notebook in my hand so that my mystery benefactor will be able to recognize me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this scared in my entire life. Ever!

It’s already 7:55 p.m., and I haven’t had anyone come up to me yet. I decide to sit on the grass and people-watch. I start to daydream a bit and lose focus of what I’m doing here. I start thinking of how happy my mom is going to be when I can finally help her financially. She’s a literal angel, always helping me—it’s time to give back to her!

Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I let out a small squeal followed by a, “Who’s there?” too afraid to turn around, when I hear a woman’s voice. I look behind me and see a dark-haired woman with smiling blue eyes. And a small black notebook in her hands.

“Hi, I’m Delilah. Come with me.”

I follow her. She’s soft-spoken, and she smells of vanilla and flowers. She guides me over to a group of people, an eclectic-looking group—men, women; young, middle-aged, elderly.

But they all have one thing in common. Each one is holding a small black notebook.

“We were all told to meet here at 8:00 p.m.,” she says gently. “We quickly realized that we have all been gifted these magical notebooks and have all been given money.”

I want to speak; I try, but my words don’t come out. There are eight people here, nine including me, each of us clutching a small black notebook. This is just unreal.

Once I gather my thoughts and try to process what is going on, we all start talking and quickly realize that each one of us has been struggling with a lot of different things in our lives.

They’re all so kind and welcoming. I feel like I’ve found a special family.

But who did this for us? How did they know we all needed help? Is our anonymous benefactor ever going to show their real self to us?

One day, maybe we’ll all find out.

But for now, yes, this is a good day.