An Abnormally Overcast Day

On the abnormally overcast day for LA, Ilya pulled the hoodie over his shaggy hair. His empty hands went into the empty pockets of his jeans, as he pushed through the weighty feeling of disappointment trying to sink him. There was still three more miles on his journey and the pavement was just meeting a hill.

Deep breath in, oxygenated muscles ready, Ilya engages his legs into overcoming the incline. He is not in the best shape, despite following this route every day since his mom started working the early morning shift. The noise of the highways softens and his mind quiets until he is standing at the crest. From here he can see the tangled maze of roads leading to different parts of the city. People going about their mornings, getting ready to officially start their days. He is nowhere near them in actuality, but at his altitude, Ilya is like a giant, with mighty hands that could unpluck a highway bridge like a stray body hair.

Any upset feelings had dissolved in the face of his small triumph. Maybe today won’t be so bad after all. Not wanting to engage with reality just yet, Ilya hangs on a little longer. He surveys the hills, stark in comparison to the buildings and roads leading up to them. He attempts to follow a road through the maze of bridges but it he loses track once it overlaps another. His eyes track along it, but the road above it hides the entrance.

Beside that chosen highway, pale green grass grows. Nature uncaring of the cement monstrosities dumped upon it. Just before the grass becomes hidden by a ramp, Ilya spots something. A darkened patch amongst the pop of life. He squints his eyes, making hand binoculars to help trick his eyes into furthering their focus. It could be a bag. Or a dead body. Either way, someone might need help. He checked his Dollar Store watch. He was already running a little late, but today he dreaded going into school and this could turn into a worthwhile excuse.

He crossed the road, and stepped foot on the grass. It was all downhill from here. The dark entity was sitting at the bottom of the hill but was still too far for Ilya to make it out. Making sure not to tumble, he eased his way down. Despite this, a tricky shard of rock slipped out from the hill as he placed weight on it, and his body followed with it. With a thump, Ilya bounced to a stop, pain now radiating from his shoulder. He got up, and moved it in slow, circular movements, with hopes to loosen it. The ache continued, but he could move it and he was happy to not be more injured.

He had landed a couple feet away from the instigating item, which turned out to be a black duffle bag. It looked to be full of something, but the zipper was only pulled halfway. Ilya observed the area. Nothing seemed to have fallen out, so it couldn’t have been thrown out of a car. It was clean and had a new car smell. Despite being black, there was no dust on it and the fabric didn’t collapse in like a used bag should. Ilya looked around one more time, but he was alone.

Fear crept in slowly as time ticked forward, so he counted like he usually did when he was scared of acting but still wanted to go through with it. He got down level with the bag, and on the count of three, Ilya pulled the zip as fast as he could. Instinctually, he jumped a little, but the contents weren’t frightening at all. If anything, it was a godsend. Unsure if his eyes were deceiving him, he parted the bag opening fully. Staring back were banded stacks of cash and a little black notebook sitting atop.

Again, Ilya looked around him. Again, he saw no one, but he lingered on the space underneath the bridge to his left. It was darker and therefore harder to make out any possible onlookers that could be watching from there, but when he didn’t notice any movement, he turned back to his finding.

The money was clean and crisp, same with the notebook. It called out to Ilya, reminding him of the book fair he was once dreading. Fate or something like it had pulled through for him, and he felt obliged to see what its plans were, so he gently picked up the notebook and opened to the front page with care. Written in black pen was the following:

Congratulations! This must be your lucky day! If you’re here, you must be in need of some money, so take some. As much as you need but be sure to write down the amount you take and your reason for taking it. God bless

Beneath the notebook had been a pen, which Ilya took and clicked into use. Grateful for the opportunity, on the next page he wrote:

Thank you this means a lot to me I will take $10 for my HS book fair today, my family doesn’t have much money but now I can buy a cool book to read – I love reading

Feeling like he had stated his case clearly enough, Ilya took the ten dollars he needed and placed the book back into the bag. He began zipping it up, when a thought struck him. It pulsed from his brain down to his limbs. He ceased closing the bag, instead pulling back the opening to reveal the cash. Doing some quick mental maths, Ilya estimated about $20,000 was sitting in the bag. Well, $19,090. The book said to take as much as you need. And he didn’t need it, not exactly, but his mom did, absolutely. She could pay off her hospital bills and start smiling again.

He was always taught not to be ungrateful or take more than he needed, but this was for his mom. That’s what this was all for, right? To help people and she deserved all the help available. Ilya slid the ten-dollar bill out of his pocket and put it with the other bills. He liked even numbers, decided to skip the book fair anyway and rush home with the money. Since he always left his school supplies in his locker to make the walk to school each morning easier, his back for free to carry the dough – another sin that it was meant to be. So, he slung the duffle around his shoulders like a backpack and started making his ascent up the hill.

He had made it maybe ten feet when a voice shouted at him from a distance, “Stop! Stop! Where are you going?!” Ilya swung his head in the direction of the voice. A guy a few years older than him, dressed in designer clothing ran towards him with a camera in hand.

“What? Who are you?” Ilya’s mind raced with images of people’s faces, trying desperately to place this stranger.

The guy was panting by the time he reached Ilya, but he made sure the camera was still facing straight. Ilya moved away from him a little, in confusion. The guy noticed this and caught him his hand. It looked almost friendly, like a friend trying to connect with you.

He had caught his breath now, turning his attention to Ilya. “So, dude why are you stealing from the homeless? What are you doing?”

Confused, Ilya pulled away slightly. “Stealing? There was a letter saying take as much as you need, and well, my mom needs all of it.” He felt justified with his answer, but the guy didn’t believe him at all.

“Sure dude, sure. Are you saying you need this more than the homeless? You obviously are doing alright, look at your watch.” The guy had the camera in Ilya’s face now, recording his reaction.

Ilya looked down at his watch, part of him was touched that it didn’t look as cheap as it was, but then he shimmied his jumper sleeve of it because he remembered the real price and didn’t want to explain that to anyone. The lack of response from Ilya made the guy uneasy so he filled the space. “I put the money here to help the homeless, it’s for a video I’m making, I’m giving back to the community. Usually homeless people hang out under that bridge but since it’s a little more overcast today, the lighting’s not great so I placed it out here where you can see it.”

It was all clicking for Ilya now, and he slowly shrugged the bag off his back. The guy watched and recorded as he did this, waiting for something to happen, but it didn’t as Ilya just handed the bag over to him, face downturned in embarrassment.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself? Stealing from the homeless.” Ilya was feeling it all now – disappointment, frustration, anger, embarrassment.

He looked up at the guy and subsequently the camera. “I- I’m really sorry. I just want-ed to help m-y mom out.”

The guy moved the camera back onto himself and rolled his eyes. “You see here folk, this is what can be wrong with my generation. I admit it,” he pulled the bag out of Ilya’s limp grasp. The high mountain of relief and hope he had stood upon only five minutes earlier had been bulldozed then a grave had been dug. That’s where he was at that moment, and clawing his way out didn’t seem to be an option so he ran.

The guy continued to talk into his camera, continuing to rip into Ilya and his character and the selfish generation he symbolised. He ever cried or showed much emotion out of convenience but Ilya felt it was okay in this time so he let the well of tears run over his eye-line as made his way back up the hill, continuing his journey to school, as if the whole interaction had never occurred.