A Life In Cents

She ran her fingers mindlessly along the porch railing, stopping every now and then to pick off old cracking paint. There was something deeply satisfying about this, as if it was the first step in making this place her own, she had the right to pick this paint. Who chose this blue? She wondered.

Derek was carrying in the cardboard boxes. He threw an irritated glance at her, or did she just imagine that? She would’ve liked to have helped, but with the big belly stretching in front of her, picking up boxes was out of the question, as were many other things, like tying shoelaces or picking socks off the floor. Her job would be unpacking, picking which shelf the books should be on, which drawer to put those socks in. She was glad they finally had a home of their own, even though it wasn’t quite as she had imagined it, it was more like moving into your grandparent’s home, who in their right mind would’ve chosen that green wallpaper? Eventually, she knew this place would become their own, but for now, with the baby coming, this would do.

Derek gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and dashed off.

Left alone in this new space she felt like an intruder in someone else’s life. There were still so many things around that belonged to the old couple who lived here. She didn’t know much about them, but it was easy to guess who they were. They were like everyone else who moved to this neighbourhood in the fifties and sixties and made it a family-friendly sort of place. Now, it just felt sad, like some dream that had died long ago or never got fulfilled. Most houses here bore the evidence of financial booms and busts, and it seemed an odd place to start a new life, yet, this is all that they could afford.

Exploring each room, one by one, she mentally noted what would need doing and how much it would cost, creating imaginary spreadsheets with priorities and calculations in her head. Of course, the obvious thing was that the house needed emptying of all these old boxes. She flicked through the dusty books in the old banana box, a book on aviation, a guide to Grand Canyon, some classic romance novels, nothing worth keeping. The pages were old and yellow, so dry you felt they could crumble in your hands like an autumn leaf. As she rummaged through the box - after all, she could never resist a box of books - she came across a black notebook. There was something very neat about it, even though it looked like it had been used, it still seemed to have a newbought sheen to it. How odd, among all these old items to find something so new-looking.

Holding the notebook in her hand, she hesitated, something about respecting other people’s privacy and her mother’s angry wagging finger. What if it’s a diary? What if it holds some secrets? Whatever is in it, surely it’s not meant for her... No, diaries are private, and should never be read. So she put it neatly back in the box and continued on her expedition of the house, returning to those spreadsheets in her mind...new wallpaper, maybe paint the floorboards...new tiles in the bathroom, for sure….

Still, the black book wouldn’t leave her mind. Why is it so neat? What’s in it? What if it was meant to be read? What if it’s a novel? But what if it’s the life of the people who occupied this house, do you really want to know about them? Wouldn’t that be weird? Her thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone when she found herself in front of the box again, as if her body led her there. That’s it, no point in resisting any longer, and anyway, it was time to sit down and rest with a cold lemonade, why not grab something to read?

She took the notebook, a glass and headed out to the veranda. Carefully removing the elastic band, it still offered some resistance, the cover lifted slightly from the inked curvature of the bulging pages. This notebook was full. It felt like some great discovery, maybe that’s how archeologists felt when removing yet another layer of earth. Slowly, she opened the cover to look at the first page, it simply said: “For Edna”. Well, that made it obvious that it definitely wasn’t for her eyes, if there ever was any doubt about that, which of course there wasn’t. But she had gone too far to stop. There was pulled along by a momentum all of its own and had to find out what was inside, love letters?

With excitement and trepidation she flicked over to the first page to find a list and numbers, what is that? There was a date on the top, followed by a collection of items and price:

Eggs (dozen)……$1.01

Bread………......$0.75

Soda……………$0.89

Candy bars (4)...$1.32

And so forth, page after page, items and prices, most of them around a dollar or a few cents. She felt the flush of disappointment and embarrassment, how silly to imagine it was something other than just a notebook. The first feelings were instantly followed by the shame of opening someone’s personal book, didn’t her mother teach her better than that?

Maybe it wasn’t so personal after all, and so she sat there, with her lemonade, flicking through the book, page by page. Every now and then, there would be an expensive item, “green wallpaper (6 rolls)....$123”, so that’s where that came from... Or, “Camera: Konica Aiborg…$510”, that’s a funny name for a camera. Or, flight tickets and hotel rooms, seems this person went somewhere. But why record everything? Every single cent! Even a packet of sweets for 13 cents.

Looking through the pages there seemed to be a pattern, eggs on tuesdays, sweets on saturdays, same brands, same shop. Why so many sweets? Day after day of expenses, trips to the same shop, to buy the same thing, sometimes a dinner or lunch out, sometimes a trip to the cinema. Each page, neatly written in small handwriting, always with a blue pen, in two columns.

Finally, on the last page, some text. The calculations all added up, $4,982.75. On the other side, something that looked like a diary entry, or a message. She felt a cold shiver rush through her body as her eyes scanned the perfectly round letters:

“Edna,

I wanted to make a record of what I spent the money on. You always told me off for being frivolous, and I’m sure you’ll find a few things you’d shake your head at, but all in all, I think you’ll be proud. After you died, your insurance money came through and I wanted to be accountable to you, after all, in a way it’s your money, not mine, and we never had money like that together, living as we were from month to month.

I wish you had been here with me to enjoy it all. In a way you were…

I went to Grand Canyon finally, took some photos. I also decorated the bedroom, I think you’d like it, I know how much you wanted it to change. I still got sweets for the kids across the street on Saturdays, just as we used to. I’ll leave my camera for them, and some sweets, of course. I know my time is coming, but I don’t mind, I get to see you soon.

Anyway Edna, I’ve never been much for words. You’ll see I’ve calculated everything that I spent, so you know. Having all that money was good, but not quite as amazing as we always thought it would be. Maybe because you’re not here. I don’t know, I just preferred counting cents and cutting out discount codes with you. God I miss you…

I left the rest in the bank, maybe it’ll come in handy for someone else down the road. If they find this book of course. I know I should’ve done this better, but I’m too tired Edna.”

So that was the man who lived here before...and Edna must’ve been his wife. She looked up to see if anyone had seen her, as if she’d committed some crime and was checking for onlookers. Instinctively, as if she’d read the notebook before, she flicked to the end and looked inside the paper pocket at the back. She slid her hand and pulled out two pieces of paper, one thick and a thinner one. Turning them round she found a photo of an old, tanned and healthy looking man in front of Grand Canyon. It seemed to her that he had kind eyes, and his smile was natural and warm, not a fake “photo smile” she thought. The other paper was a cheque, with no name, no date, no amount and a signature. It was for the bank down the road.

She sat pondering all of this for a while. It all seemed so mundane and so mysterious all at the same time. What’s this all about? Who’s the check for? She turned the page back to the final calculations: “Total: $4,982.75” and then below she noticed, “Left in bank account: $55,017.25 at 5,4%”. Mary-Anne could feel her heart beating fast. She placed her hand onto her belly, either to comfort the baby or herself, maybe both. The baby was moving and kicking, reminding the world of the power of new life. She glanced back at the cheque, “maybe it’ll come in handy for someone else down the road”... What did he mean? Was this for them? That phrase: “maybe it’ll come in handy for someone else down the road”... It was, wasn’t it? So much money. The inflation rate, the savings rate, the years that had passed, this house, the green wallpaper, the endless rows of calculations, it all made her head spin. And yet, there was another gift in all of this, that simple phrase: “I just preferred counting cents and cutting out discount codes with you.” Her eyes kept dancing across those words, over and over again. She couldn’t wait to see Derek. She couldn’t wait to start their life here. Maybe it was the right house after all.