Count

The sun was just getting to work over Watsessing Park on a warm February morning.

Joe decided this would be the perfect time to try his hand at a new fitness routine outdoors. As he worked through it, his belief in exercise as a recourse to a healthier life, waned. Spent, he walked to a bench and plopped on it.

“27” The man on the bench next to him said.

“I’m sorry, what?” asked Joe quizzically.

The man had a small black notebook in which he kept scribbling as he spoke “You took …27 steps… from there…till here.”

“You did 20 star jumps, 17 lunges and 11 push-ups.” He checked his notebook to confirm the numbers.

Joe was bewildered and impressed. “Am I under surveillance?” he asked.

“I just like to keep a count of things I see.” He pushed a little notebook towards him with a list of the details.

Joe let out a sigh of relief “Jesus! What are you? Some gifted math nerd?”

“I doubt that.” The man replied, shrugging his shoulders, pulling the notebook back, leafing through the pages like a magician through a deck of cards. “I just think when someone says they’re doing a 12-week workout challenge to lose 20 pounds so they can fit in their old tuxedo and feel ½ their age, the numbers make it real.”

Joe got a good look at the young man. He had a face that you could’ve sworn you’d seen somewhere. The most striking thing about it was that it was painfully ordinary.

Joe was amused “You’re alright! How about we get some coffee? I’m Joe by the way.”

“Damien” the man replied as he held his hand out and smiled back.

___

Roughly 2 years ago, or as Damien would say, 1 year 11 months and 21 days ago, he was working gigs to put together a small pot of savings to see him through undergrad. He did club promotions, moved boxes – anything that paid and was legal.

It was the week he was on trash duty, that he decided to pay the junkyard a visit. He always found interesting baubles that he could apply a little DIY to and sell off. The owner of the junkyard was kind enough to let him rummage around. “Just keep the din to a whisper.” she’d say.

Damien was looking for bits of oddly-shaped metal, that looked like they could be welded together. He was working his way through the boot of a totalled 94 Chevy Impala when he noticed a lump under the backseat. He tried to push the foam back in but hit something solid. Damien cut through the upholstery with a knife to find a duffel bag. He unzipped it to find it full of money. He stood there, frozen. His trance was suddenly broken by the yard owner calling out to him.

“I’m going to close the lot and head home.” She said

“I….I found something.” Damien shouted back hesitantly.

“Finders keepers. Now get going, kid. I’ve got a ruptured pipeline to fix.”

The next few moments went by in a rush. He found himself back home, with the bag in front of him. He decided the right thing to do would be to keep the money safe and accounted for, in case someone comes looking.

He procured a small notebook with a matte black cover - a high school graduation gift from his aunt that he was saving for college.

He opened it and scribbling the date - 13 February 2006.

By the time the sunlight turned pink, Damien had jotted down the following:

10000$ - 10 dollar notes – 1000 Hamiltons - 10 stacks

20000$ - 20 dollar notes – 1000 Jacksons– 10 stacks

40000$ - 50 dollar notes – 800 Ulysses – 8 stacks

50000$ - 100 dollar notes – 500 Ben Franklins - 5 stacks

__

120000$ - 330 notes – 33 stacks TOTAL

The Last detail he remembered before passing out was counting the money 27 times.

---

Damien watched the 6’o clock news every evening. He looked out for any mention of the money. Every time he did, he’d make a note of it:

News at 6 with Ross Bennet on Channel 3: 6 PM, 15 February 2006

In his heart, Damien had already made a decision. He just hadn’t come to terms with it.

Until one day, he did.

28 February 2006

3 months’ rent: 330$ x 3 envelopes addressed to Mr. Manko

Balance: 119010$

Change: 83 cents

1 backpack

1 duffel bag

1 toothbrush

1 toothpaste

1 shirt

2 t-shirts

2 trousers

1 jacket

1 sweater

1 pair sneakers

3 pairs socks

6 boxers

1 wallet

1 key

1 notebook

1 cellphone

1 charger

1 pack of gum

1 snickers pack of 2423

He scribbled this list as he sat at the bus station, eating his candy bar. At this point Damien didn’t know where he was headed. He knew he didn’t want to rush into spending the money until he had a plan. He knew he couldn’t just spend it whole without raising eyebrows.

Greyhound GLIAB6D0A0 to Raleigh - $53

Estimated time: 11h 40m

Elapsed time: 12h 53m

Damien had slept through most of the trip, uncomfortably with his duffel bag pinned to the seat by his back. He’d never made it this far away from home. He walked around the bus station getting familiar with the ground under his feet.

4 nights

Room 212 Best Western

2714 Capitol Blvd

4 miles from the North Carolina Museum of History

5 miles from Pullen Park

41 hours since check-in

Damien paced around the room. He was grateful for its sanctuary but there was a feeling of dread that gnawed deep inside him. He looked at the duffel bag and imagined the pressure of its strap around his shoulder. He decided to fight it.

Thu 07:55 03/03/2006

Seat F14 $8.99

1 large tub popcorn, no butter

He balanced the popcorn on his right thigh as he scribbled on the notebook which rested on his left. He reached out with his tongue to grab a flake from the tub. The movie started.

Damien felt his heart beat faster as the opening credits began to roll in.

Damien rushed out of the theatre, hailed a taxi back to the hotel. He could feel his heart pounding against his rib cage throughout the ride. He reached the hotel and ran through the lobby, up the stairs. He burst into his room, dove under the bed, pulled out the bag and emptied its contents. He flipped through the cash in a frenzy.

118647$ and 11 Cents

Once he was done counting, he sat there catching his breath, counting himself breathing in, breathing out.

---

Titusville Beach

Wave 114……

The waves crashed against his ankles as he stood there staring into the distance with his notebook open. The duffel bag tethered around his shoulder or perhaps the other way around. The waves rolled in and...

Wave 115……

...out as Damien made note of their trespass. He was hoping that by now he would have figured out what to do with the money. No such luck. He closed his eyes and furrowed his eyebrows…

Wave 116……

As the warm water hit his feet, he scribbled the count without opening his eyes. Damien hoped for a hint, a sign.

…

Wave 117….

Nothing.

Damien walked back to his 98 Accord that he picked up along the journey. The dulling paint gave it character, helped him stay under the radar. He wished it gave him ideas too.

Albuquerque: 1773.2 miles away

read both the GPS and the notebook.

---

“We don’t get a lot of scribes here.” Said the bartender, leaning towards Damien.

“I’m not a journalist. I just count the things I experience.”

“Well you’re at the right place; this is the experience that counts” said the bartender, proud of his wordplay.

Damien looked into his notebook and then turned to the bartender “if I want to buy everyone a round of drinks…how does it work?”

“You just tell me you want to buy everyone a round.” replies the bartender.

“Alright …But can you do me a favour? Don’t tell anyone it’s on me.”

“You got it. So what’ve you counted?”

Damien flips through the pages, opens the last one and reads:

“People - 54 (by my last count)

Drinks served by the bar - 87

Accidental brushes, touches or caresses - 17”

“A pretty boy like you in these parts of town, that last one’s bound to happen.” Laughs the bartender.

The touches made Damien smile when he thought about them. He didn’t know who it was. He didn’t want to find out. He closed his eyes and imagined a conversation with one of the 17 people in the club.

An Old-fashioned slid his way. “Compliments of the house.”

“Thanks, but I’m driving.” said Damien.

Drinks served by the bar – 87 88

---

The sun was rising over Redwood National Park. Inside a blue tent dwarfed by the magnificence of the Redwoods behind it, Damien sat with a fresh ivory page of his notebook gleaming with potential. He scribbled.

17 months and 21 hours since.

He leaned forward and looked into the distance, squinting to catch something and then wrote:

Roosevelt Elk Sighting 11

1 Male

5 Females

3 calves

He was puzzled, then flipped a few pages back. The elk didn’t add up. One of the females hadn’t shown up since the last time he saw the herd. It had been two months. Even from a safe distance Damien had grown invested in the elks.

He felt humbled in nature’s presence. There were fewer things he could possibly count - the stars, the trees, the leaves. Elk were the exception.

He stopped and squinted again. The female elk showed up, along with her two-month-old calf who was joining the herd for the first time. Damien clicked his pen:

Roosevelt Elk

1 Male

5 6 Females

3 4 calves

28 November 2006

“Welcome to the family” said Damien, tearing up at the distant reunion.

Before he could realise he was now sobbing. The tears first came with hesitation and then it felt like a dam had just been broken; the tears gushed accompanied by a full-throated wail.

Damien, felt like he was crying for the first time in his life.

---

The cup warmed his hands as Damien sat there at the bench with Joe.

“So you’re on your way back home from…?”Joe asked.

“Penn State” Damien lied.

“Well I’m glad I decided to exercise otherwise I wouldn’t have bumped into you” said Joe.

Damien smiled “If this were another life, I’d tell you this really means something to me.”

Joe sat up “It’s alright. I figured you have someplace to be”

Damien took a breath “I’ve figured out what I need to do. You see I’ve had this responsibility that I’ve been carrying and trying to make something of - like when you get something good…really good, and there’s the compulsion to make it work for you.”

“I think we’ve all been there,” said Joe smiling with his eyes, assuming he knew what Damien was talking about.

“I’m sad that this is the last time we’ll ever see each other, Joe” Damien stood up. “Thanks for the coffee.” He held out his hand. Joe shook it without getting up.

Joe’s eyes were transfixed on Damien as he walked away into the distance, in no apparent hurry, until he was indistinguishable from the crowd.

Joe sat there, trying to make sense of this wonderful encounter. His thoughts were interrupted when he turned around and noticed Damien had left his duffel bag on the bench. He picked it up and ran in Damien’s direction, calling out his name.

Damien however had been counting the steps he took from the moment he left the spot.

123…

124….

125….

126….

...

He felt like an aeroplane rising above storm clouds.

For the first time in years, Damien finally lost count.

---