Miss Helen's

It was my first time back in Pittsburgh since I graduated in 1985. I was returning for the funeral of my dear friend and former landlord, Miss Helen. My flight landed just in time for me to get to the church for the viewing. The viewing room where Miss Helen laid in rest was packed up full of people, people that she’d taken care of over the years and welcomed into her home including myself.

As I walked closer to the front of the church I closed my eyes to pray but caught myself having flashbacks of my time in Miss Helen’s house. I could still smell her cooking in the morning and the creaks in the old wooden floor as she pranced around downstairs. I could vividly see her sitting at the kitchen table with her coffee in her left hand and a notebook in the right, “working the numbers” as she would refer to her numerology.

Miss Helen lived in a large, three-story Victorian house only minutes away from the university's campus. She had seven children but six of the children were out of the house and on their own except for her youngest, Sheryl. Sheryl, who also went to the university, was moving out of her mother’s house and in with her fiance. Sheryl was a classmate and co-worker of mine. One day on break she and I started talking about living off-campus. I told her I was trying to find somewhere to move while I did my student teaching that semester. It was in my senior year, I didn’t want to live on campus anymore and the rent was too expensive for an apartment.

“I have the perfect place you can stay and the rent won’t break your pockets!” Sheryl said quickly without taking a breath. ‘I’m moving out of my mama’s house real soon, and I know she would be happy to have someone there with her to talk to instead of ol’ Mr. Benny.” I hesitated but I accepted the offer and later that afternoon Sheryl introduced me to her mother…

I didn’t want to go to the cemetery, so after the viewing I went straight over to Miss Helen’s house for the repast. Walking into the door was like walking into a time capsule. Everything was just as I remembered it being twelve years before. I greeted the small group of people who had arrived ahead of me. I needed to use the restroom and decided to take a walk down memory lane while I was upstairs. I headed down to the very end of the long hallway to my old room. The room was almost empty with just a bed, an old dresser, and a few boxes stacked up in the corner. I sat on the side of the bed and reminisced.

“Miss Helen, here is the money for groceries.” I handed her a fifty dollar bill.

“Girl, save your money!” She refused to take any money from me, sometimes even my rent. I used to buy my own groceries but she convinced me not to anymore. She would tell me we had plenty of food in the house and that her other resident at the time, Mr. Benny helped pay for those things. “You’re in college, you need to save up!”

“I appreciate you allowing me to live here.” I sat down on the chair opposite of her as she went through her numerology book.

“It’s no problem at all!” She said looking over her glasses and scanning her numerology book with her fingers. Every few seconds she would glance over to her newspaper and mumble a number. Then write the number in her little black notebook that she kept tucked away in her junk drawer in the kitchen. She would do this two to three times a day. After about thirty minutes she would put on her peacoat and slide her notebook into her pocket and say, “I’m about to go run my numbers I’ll be back.”

She would do this every day, early in the morning and then in the evening before the lottery stand would close. Some weeks she would only win $10 and others she would hit big sometimes between $500 and $2000!

Miss Helen would get her numbers from anywhere. If you wore a red dress, she would look up the numbers for red. She would sometimes read the comics in the newspaper and look at the number of fingers the characters were holding up and how many were in the strip. She would listen for numbers in songs or on the news. She would even ask me what I dreamt about the night before and look for the numbers for any symbolism that showed up in my dream. If she didn’t ‘hit’ the lottery that day she would say, ‘Those were some bad numbers.’ and make a line over them in her notebook.

I headed back downstairs and into the parlor where everyone was sitting and talking. I recognized a few of the faces as I scanned the room. One being Miss Helen’s nephew, we became good friends while I stayed in the house, he even took my graduation picture. Another familiar face was Sheryl’s. I hadn’t seen Sheryl since my wedding in 87’. She came as a representative for Miss. Helen.

“It is so good to see you, Robyn!” Sheryl, exclaimed as she gave me a warm hug.

“It is good to see you too! Unfortunately under somber circumstances.” I sadly responded. We chit chatted for a bit while we prepared our food and headed back into the parlor. I told her about my children and how I was in the middle of divorcing my husband. “It’s been so hard trying to pay bills and take care of the kids alone since we’ve been separated.”

“How sad!” she said, “I hope everything works out for you! I thought you two would be together forever!”

“I know! Everyone did, especially Miss Helen.”

Miss Helen loved my ex-husband at the time, boyfriend. I recalled the first time he came to visit me in Pittsburgh. Mark was living in New York at the time, and wanted to come to see me for the long spring break. When he arrived Miss Helen was sitting in the kitchen doing her daily routine with the television on and her coffee.

“Miss Helen, this is my boyfriend, Mark.” I introduced him.

“Hello, Mark! Nice to finally meet you I’ve heard so much about you!” She greeted as she wrote something in her little black notebook. “Tell me, Mark, what was the number of the flight you came in on?”

Mark looked confused but amused by the question, “Uh, flight-207.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

When we were finally alone Mark asked, “What was that about?”

“That’s her magical number’s book. I swear when she writes numbers down in that book she hits every time!”

I later found out on my wedding day that she hit that night for $250. She saved it and put it in a card with a note saying “I knew he was the one!” She gave it to Sheryl to give to me and Mark as a wedding present.

Sheryl and I headed back up to the old bedroom and she shifted through the stack of boxes in the corner. “While you’re here, I found an old box in mama’s room full of pics of you and her. I can’t believe she held onto all of these things, all of these years.” Sheryl took a deep breath and continued, “I didn’t think you would come, I was just going to mail it to you.”

“I wanted to say goodbye one last time!” I said choking up while my eyes filled with tears. “Miss Helen meant a lot to me.”

“You know you were her favorite tenant,” Sheryl said, handing me the medium size brown box. “I know you flew in today, if you want, just go through it and take out some smaller items and I will ship you the rest.”

“Thank you, Sheryl, this means a lot,” I said wiping my eyes and giving her another hug.

Sheryl left me alone in the room to go greet guests. I sat on the side of the bed and looked through the box, I found pictures from my wedding, letters I had written to her over the years, and etc. At the bottom of the box was an old t-shirt I had given Miss Helen before I left Pittsburgh and underneath it was her little black notebook. My eyes lit up seeing the book after many years. I took what I wanted out of the box, including the notebook, and joined Sheryl and her other family members downstairs.

That night in the hotel room I unpacked my pocketbook and placed the black notebook on the table. I flipped through the book which had been filled to the last page. There were numbers and names written throughout the book, some circled and scratched out some with money signs next to them. Then on the very last page was my name. Next to my name was the date that I moved into the house and next to that was my birthday both written out in numbers: 8 16 19 84 and 10 04 19 63. There was a side note written in red ink that read ‘play tonight 8/16/97.’

‘8/16/97? That was the day she passed,’ I whispered to myself. I hadn’t realized the day Miss Helen passed it was the same day I had moved into her home twelve years earlier.

When I landed back in my hometown, the words ‘play tonight’ kept seeping through my mind. After I retrieved my luggage, I found a lottery stand in the airport and pulled out the little black notebook. I filled in the bubbles for each number and gave the man my dollar. I put the lottery ticket and book away and hopped in the taxi to head home.

Three days had gone by and I was cleaning out my suitcase from my trip to Pittsburgh. The notebook and lottery ticket fell out as I unzippered the bag. I actually forgot about the book and the lottery ticket. I looked at the numbers again and took the ticket to the convenience store down the street from where I lived. I handed the cashier my ticket and he smiled with huge crooked teeth, “Congratulations miss!”

“Oh great! What did I win $5?” I laughed.

“Try $20,000!” He replied, still smiling.

“Oh. My. God!” I screamed! I grabbed my ticket and ran out of the store in excitement. I quickly headed back to my house and into my room. Tears flowed from my eyes as I held my winning ticket and Miss Helen’s notebook in my hands. It really was magical.

“Thank you God and thank you, Miss Helen.”