Black into Gold

Every morning when Mark woke up, he looked around him and wondered if he was living a good enough life.

The walls of his room were bare, and the kitchen and living room greeted him with no greater abundance of warmth or contentment.

He worked at a job that no longer excited him, and he shared his living space with an old friend who he probably allowed to fill more of his time than a man of his age ought to.

He was starting to get the feeling that something - maybe even everything - was going to need to change in order for him to feel more settled.

He and Kenneth shared a big open loft above a mechanic shop. And it had been the perfect place for two men in their twenties to sow their wild oats. The rent was cheap, the walls accustomed to wear and tear, and the landlord - who operated the shop downstairs - locked up and went home every day at 4:00 - leaving the whole building empty except for whatever raucous they and their friends cared to get up to upstairs.

They had made a lot of really great memories in that place.

But as thirty creeped up on Mark, he wondered aloud to Kenneth if perhaps they should start to consider moving to a more grown-up apartment. A place that they wouldn’t always be embarrassed to bring people back to.

“But I love this place!” Kenneth yelped.

“I do, too!” Mark agreed. “And I’ve had a lot of awesome times living here-”

“Bobby never minds coming over!” Kenneth retorted.

“I’m not trying to impress Bobby.” Mark endured.

Mark was right - if Kenneth were honest with himself - that there were plenty of times he’d wished he had somewhere nicer to bring someone he was interested in.

“But what about old Thorney?!?” Mark exclaimed.

Bill Thorne was the owner of the building. He ran the mechanic shop below, and put a fresh pot of coffee on anytime either of them came around. He didn’t mind them dropping by to borrow tools, because he was estranged from his family, and looked forward to the company and to being needed.

“He could move in up here!” Mark tried to rationalize. “Be closer to work.”

“He can’t do the stairs.” Kenneth replied. “He said that’s why he got the place across the street.”

In the five years that Mark and Kenneth had been living above the shop, Mark had never seen Bill standing. He was always sitting on one of the rolling stools. Seeming to move around without ever needing to stand up.

“Something about his bones.” Kenneth continued.

Mark was going to be sad not to run into Bill so regularly. And, he imagined that Bill would miss them too. But he needed to make a change. He was tired of living a life that he didn’t feel at all proud of. And staying here wasn’t doing anything for his sense of hope.

“Bobby could move in with us, if we got a big enough place!” Kenneth suggested.

“I don’t want to live with Bobby. Guy’s a slob.” Mark retorted.

“Alright. Well, how do you suppose we afford a nicer place?”

“Ugh.” Mark sighed. His dreams were feeling suffocated once again.

Kenneth looked up from his phone. “Bobby’s coming over. He’s bringing pizza.”

“‘K”, Mark responded. “Let’s get in a quick game before he gets here.”

As the two men played ping pong they tossed ideas back and forth across the table.

“Would you wanna live alone?” Kenneth asked Mark.

“Not really. I mean. I love living with you.” Mark responded.

“Same.” Kenneth replied.

“And, really, I don’t mind Bobby coming over all the time. He’s super fun. I just don’t want to, like - have to rely on him - or, see him every single day.”

“I feel you.” Kenneth responded. “I love the guy but, uh - quiet is nice too!”

Just then there was a knock at the door. It couldn’t be Bobby. It had been ages since he’d knocked, and the rhythm held a markedly serious tone.

The two men looked at each other, and headed to the door together to see who was there.

It was a stern looking woman with an assumedly permanent scowl and a truly off-putting demeanor.

“Bill’s dead.” She said in a rough and callous tone.

“Oh no!” The men exclaimed.

“He didn’t want any of us to have his property, so he left it to you two. Here’s the deed to this -” she looked around at the yellowed walls and exposed piping - “piece of shit building.”

She stuffed a large envelope into Mark’s hand and spun around and left without introducing herself.

“Holy shit!” Kenneth exclaimed as he ripped the envelope from Mark’s hand, opened it up, and unfolded the paperwork inside.

Mark was sullen about the loss of Bill, but looking down at the paper he couldn’t help but point out: “The building is only worth $20,000.”

“No surprise!” said Kenneth. “Let’s go downstairs and check it out!”

They ran into Bobby in the parking lot and the three men headed to the mechanic shop to explore the new property.

As Kenneth looked out over the space - pizza sitting on the table where Bill always left his coffee - he felt almost like they were at a private memorial, celebrating their old friend and the life he’d lived in that space. The times they had enjoyed with him there.

“Remember when Bill got stuck under that car that one time - and you had to help him get his belt loose?” Kenneth asked, nostalgically.

“It feels weird not to have him here” Mark responded, as he looked around the semi-familiar space.

Gradually the men started to move around, exploring the nooks and crannies that had eluded them when they were mere visitors.

Bobby sat down on one of the rolly chairs and pushed himself backwards. As he sailed across the open space, he said: “You guys should throw a huge party here!”

Noting that neither of the men had yet warmed past the loss of their friend, Bobby followed up with a more serious question. “What are you going to do with the place?”

“Sell it, I guess.” Kenneth shrugged, as he looked over at Mark.

“The land must be worth something to someone. The building should probably be torn down.” Mark replied.

To keep the mood light, Bobby opened up some drawers and joked that they could just take over Thorney’s old job.

“I don’t think he even had any customers.” Kenneth responded.

“We hardly ever saw anyone around.” Mark agreed.

Out of a drawer Bobby pulled a little black book.

“This says something about $40,000. I wonder if there’s any money hidden around here!”

Mark snatched the book out of Bobby’s hand and furrowed his brow. “$40,000. Ian Forsyth. And there’s a phone number.”

“Call it tomorrow” Bobby suggested. “See if you guys owe that guy a bunch of money now!”

The three men spent the rest of the evening poking around the seemingly endless supply of old rusty tools that Bill had left behind - which would hardly resemble a bounty of treasure to anyone.

But the next day Mark called Ian Forsyth. He let him know about Bill’s passing, and asked if Bill had any business left behind that needed attending to.

“Oh yes! Bill Thorne!” Ian chuckled. “Yeah. He didn’t want any of it to go to his family - but - by our estimates, there was about $40,000 worth of crude oil under that old chop shop when we did the evaluation a few years back. But by now - with inflation - and - changes to the market - I’d say you’re sitting on about 70,000.”

“Dollars?” Mark asked, dumbly. Stupefied by what he’d just heard.

“Yeuh!” Ian chuckled again. “You want us to come dig that up for ya?”

“Dig right through the floor if you have to.” Mark murmured as he plopped into a chair to catch his breath.

This was the exact change he’d been needing.

The break that he so desperately craved.

And for the first time in a long time, Mark was overcome with boundless hope.