All Washed Up

“Ow! Oh, come on” I mumbled.

“What happened? Are you okay?” asked Seth walking up behind me.

“Yeah, I just tripped over this driftwood and stubbed my toe, nothing to worry about.”

Seth gave a look of teasing sarcasm, “you mean this giant log of wood? This one here, it wasn’t obvious enough for you?”

“Oh ha ha, very funny.” I said “Hang on a second, I need to sit down and check my foot.”

Seth picked at a scab on his hand, “While you do that, I’m going to walk to the beach and see if there is anything alive and wriggling that I can poke at.”

Removing my shoe and sock, “You’re so weird.”

“I know.” Seth shrugged, almost proudly.

Laughing, Seth headed down to the waters edge kicking at random shells and pebbles along the way. “Hey! Look what I found! You need to come down here and check it out.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.” Limping my way down to the water cautiously eyeing the remaining driftwood as I go. “What did you find? Oh, what is that?”

In his hand Seth held a small package, carefully covered in black plastic, and secured in a tan coloured tape. “I don’t know, but it’s all wrapped up, should we open it?”

“I don’t know man, maybe we should take it to someone?” I said as I once again eyed the area cautiously, except instead of driftwood, I was looking for other beach goers.

“Like whom? Do you have the society for little black packages that wash up on shore in your contacts? I think we should open it up.” Seth maneuvered the package around in his hands, looking at it from all angles.

Taking the package from him to look it over for myself, “You’ve got a point there, but let’s take it somewhere less public before we do.”

Skirting more driftwood on the way back up the path to the car, feeling the odd weight of the small package I could hold in one hand and precisely wrapped to not get the contents wet.

“Hey, do you have anything in your car to open this package up?” asked Seth as he rummaged around in my car, moving food wrappers and beverage containers out of the way.

“I have a screwdriver and some tweezers?” I said as I kept a watchful eye on the parking lot.

“A screwdriver and tweezers?” halting his rummaging just long enough to look at me with obvious sarcasm, “I don’t think those are going to work. I mean,” pausing for effect, “unless you plan to pluck the tape off.” Seth was rather proud of himself today for his witty remarks.

“Oh, I forgot! I have scissors in my glove box.” Retrieving the scissors triumphantly from the glovebox I handed them to Seth.

“You know, I’m not even going to ask.” Changing his mind quickly and giving in to his curiosity Seth caved, “ah! forget it, why do you have scissors in your car?” Seth shot a look of confusion and almost concern my way.

“I wanted a freezie.” I replied nonchalantly.

“You know, that makes sense, now I want a freezie.”

“Okay, focus!” I said gesturing with both my hands toward him, “Let’s open this up, I am really curious what’s inside.”

Taking the scissors and carefully cutting the plastic starting from the edge, gently peeling it away from the contents, not wanting to accidently cut the inside.

“Woah!” I declared.

Looking at Seth in disbelief, there lay before us was a little black book and cash. $100 bills to be precise, all neatly wrapped up with a rubber band around their middle keeping them secure to each other. The notebook was worn at the edges with what one could only assume was from daily use. It looked as though someone would be needing to get this back.

“What did we just find?” Seth said turning his face from the cash to me.

Faces draining of colour and trying to not get excited at our find, we seemed to know exactly what the other was thinking.

“There is never usually a happy ending to finding something like this, what happens if we are caught? Who does this belong to?” I could hear the panic in Seth’s voice and tried to not replicate it in my own. “I think we should open the book and see if there is an address inside?”

“Who is going to write their address on the inside of this book?” Seth questioned me.

“You never know! And it’s not like the book is going to call the cops on us.” Seth nodded in agreement, “it’s worth a look anyway.”

“Fine, you’re right let’s see what it says.” Leaning against the car, Seth held the cash and waited for me to open the book.

Gingerly bending back the cover, both bracing for an impact that we both knew wasn’t coming, but bracing anyway out of instinct, I revealed the first page.

“What the heck?” I stared at the page in disbelief.

“What? What?!” Seth, now curious leaned into me to get a glimpse of what was written on the pages.

“It just has ordinary things written inside, like, things this person needs to remember.” Flipping through the pages, “Let me see. Pick up dry cleaning at 3 pm, go to the bank for appointment with Jerry at 4, you don’t like their coffee, just take the water. Your birthday is June 15, 1970. You are allergic to shrimp... What is this?” Scanning more of the pages as my thumb fanned over them, “Seems like an odd book to have your appointments and stuff in, shouldn’t it have names of like, flings and private things?”

“I guess this guy didn’t get the memo. Should we write that down for him? How to be cool by Seth and Mike.” joked Seth.

“Don’t be dumb, maybe this person is a good guy, maybe he just needs some help remembering his life. Hey look! There is an address here, and a name. Should we return this to him?”

“I mean we could, but why?” enquired Seth, raising an eyebrow at me and looking at me as though the pain from stubbing my toe went to my head.

“Because, I don’t want this hanging over my head forever man. This is a lot of dough and this guy clearly needs it, he can’t remember his own birthday.”

“Ugh, fine. Where does he live?” Knowing that it would help him sleep better at night, Seth grudgingly agreed.

“Um, looks like just about 10 minutes from here.”

Typing the address into the map on his phone, Seth ducked his head and got into the car. “Okay, lets go.”

Ding Dong. Ringing the door bell, and kicking some rocks off the small porch Seth and I found ourselves on, we waited for a response.

Hearing a muffled call from inside the small unremarkable house “Coming!” The door opened up to reveal a man appearing to be in his early 50’s, “Hey.”

“Hey.” We echoed.

“What can I do for you?” waiting for us to give him a response and looking as though he regretted opening the door at all.

“Hey so, um, we just have a quick question, did you loose 20 thousand dollars?” Seth blurted. Smack! “Ow! What did you do that for?”

“Why would that be the first question you ask? You should have asked his name first.” Rolling my eyes at him.

“Oh, ya, sorry.” Ducking his head and rubbing his arm, waiting to see if a bruise was going to emerge.

“Anyway,” I continued, “is your name Steve Jenkins?”

Completely changing his demeanor at the door. Visibly standing straighter and smiling more, “Yes, I am Steve Jenkins, did you want to see my ID?” gesturing behind himself with his thumb. “I can go get it for you.”

“No, that’s okay,” waving my hands to dismiss his request, “we believe you.”

“We found this on the beach when we were down there today. We thought we would do the right thing and return it to you.” Looking at him with utter disbelief that Seth was the one that said we should return the money, he gave a look that was innocent and said, “what?!” and all I could reply with was to just shake my head at him.

“Oh wow! Thank you so much.” Gratefully taking the opened package and spreading the plastic just enough to peer inside at its contents. “You guys are really good guys. Not many people would go out of their way to return all this to someone. Thank you again, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem man! Have a good day.” Seth nodded his head and waved as we left the porch and headed for the car.

“You too!” Steve called after us. “Suckers.” He mumbled under his breath and laughed as he shook his head in disbelief at what he held in his hand.

“Who was that Allan?” called a voice from the other room.

“Just a couple of bozos that didn’t think to check that I’m not this Steve guy who lived in this house before us.” Flipping through the little black book before nonchalantly tossing it into the garbage, “Poor guy though,” shutting the door behind him, “he didn’t remember to change his address when he moved. Oh well, we’re 20G richer!”