Everything But What You Need

Her fingers slinked across the row of books, tapping her chewed nails against each one as she walked down the narrowing aisle. The dried skin of her fingertips dragging along the leather until she spotted a little black book and paused over the spine where the title should have been. The pandemic had really lightened her wallet, but the smell of old books and sting-your-nose-strong black coffee made her feel like things were returning to normal.

Taking the black book from the shelf, she noticed it was pocket-sized, bound in matted-black leather and lacking any sort of indicator, as to what it could be about. Inspecting it further she could feel some sort of embossing on the front cover, a circle, and writing in the center that she could no longer read. The pages were browned with age, flipping through them, she noticed only hand-written notes, a journal.

That would explain the lack of title, but why is it being sold as a book? She thought. Eyeing around to see if anyone was coming down the aisle, she sat on the carpeted floor, crossing her legs in front of her and opened to the front cover.

‘Intentions 1972: A Book for Success’

Cocking an eyebrow as she flipped through the pages, she noticed that they were filled with ramblings. ‘I will win the lotto… a car…a mansion…’ On and on, the notebook continued through the lofty goals or greedy desires of this stranger. But what does this have to do with actual success? Toward the middle of the journal, on the last page that was written on, the same sentence was written over and over again, ‘Bring her back…’ It must have been written 20 times, the handwriting depleting in quality each time. Creepy. Standing up from the floor she placed the odd journal back on the shelf.

Walking toward the back of the store with an armful of books, she paused, her eyes wandering back in the direction of the journal. She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Nagging her with this voice that sounded much too much like her mother, telling her she would be missing out if she didn’t go back for it. Fine.

“Good mornin’ Gale, always lovely seein’ ya. What are we purchasin’ today?” The owner, Mrs. McNelly, had a thick Irish accent to match her exuberant and unique personality. Her grey eyes bounced forward from her pale, freckled face and light gingery hair.

“Good morning, Mrs. McNelly. Just picking up some classics…and this.” Placing the pile of books down on the counter, she lifted up the little black notebook. “Seems to be some sort of journal. Do you know anything about it?” She said, handing the notebook over to Mrs. McNelly.

“Some old man came in’ere yesterday, said it was good luck or somethin’. Don’t know what possessed him to sell it if it was so darned lucky.” Mrs. McNelly flipped through the pages and shrugged. “Still want it, deary? I’ll give it to ye for a dollar.”

“A whole dollar? Oh Mrs. McNelly, I don’t know, seems awfully steep.” Gale laughed, pushing the pile of books closer toward Mrs. McNelly. “How about a dollar and I buy you a cup of coffee?” She smiled at her, Mrs. McNelly smiling back and nodding.

“Sounds fair t’me!”

***

As Gale walked into her apartment, her doggy bag from the café under one arm and her bag of books in the other, she noticed the full moon peeking in brightly through her only living room window. Well, aren’t you perfect for an evening of reading? Quickly, she tossed her doggy bag in the fridge, ran through the shower and hopped into her favorite pajamas before settling into the pink armchair beside the window.

“Hi, Marla…how was your day?” A chunky orange tabby plopped itself down on the arm rest of the chair and meowed hesitantly at Gale. “Quiet day? Sounds nice.” Digging through the bag, she grabbed the little black notebook, immediately noticing that something was different. Blinking several times as if the glaringly obvious change was a trick of the eye, but the embossed cover of the little black notebook now had her name carved into the circle. Her fingers lost their grip as she gasped, dropping the notebook to the floor, making Marla jump from the chair. Gale curled her knees to her chest and stared at the ground as if there was a rabid chihuahua nipping at her toes. She felt as if there was a hand around her neck, desperately trying to swallow the lump that sat in her throat, prohibiting her from shouting.

Oh, get a grip, Gale. McNelly must have done that when you were in the bathroom at the café. Thinking to herself, she nodded as if to agree and leaned down to pick it up. Opening to the first page she noticed that it no longer said, ‘Intentions 1972,’ instead the printed words on the inside cover said, ‘Intentions 2021’ and again Gale was left wide eyed. As she flipped through the once filled pages, they were empty, brand new, as if no one had ever touched it.

Some old man thought this possessed notebook was lucky?! Her thoughts were shouting in her head, but her memory was screaming louder. “Turn to the next page and start your success.” She spoke out loud, softly, allowing the words to barely touch her lips. “What if I…” She stopped, shaking her head. “This is stupid.”

Tossing the notebook down, she stood up and walked around the room in circles, Marla sat in the center of the room, watching Gale as she passed by her frantically. “If McNelly is pranking me she is doing a damn good job…” Staring at the notebook all the while. “But the embossing on the front…the inside…it’s all printed, not handwritten…” She sighed.

“Turn to the next page and start your success…Marla, I’m either going to get us possessed by this thing, or I’m insane.” The orange tabby cat laid down, yawning before shutting her eyes. “I’ll take that as a, ‘do whatever you want.’” Sitting back down in the chair with a pencil in hand, Gale opened to the first page. “Let’s start small…” Slowly, Gale wrote, ‘I will get a pizza right now.’ Sitting back in her chair, she looked down at Marla, both of them almost crawling out of their skins as the doorbell chimed. “No. Way.”

Gale hopped up, scrambling to the door, but stopping to peek through the peephole. “Who is it?” A young man stood at the door, a pizza bag in hand.

“Heya, someone sent you a pizza?” He looked at the peephole, halfheartedly smiling. Gale opened the door, a blank expression on her face.

“A pizza?”

“Yup.”

“Right now?” She stared at him and then the pizza.

“Uh…yup. I mean it is dinner time. Seems considerate enough…”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry. Thank you!” Taking the pizza from him, Gale shut the door, looking for the receipt, but there wasn’t one. “What old man would give this up?” Gale sat down on the floor beside her chubby tabby cat, eating her pizza as she stared at the notebook. “Olives…how did it know?”

***

The next day, Gale rolled out of bed, stretching before looking at the notebook sitting on her nightstand. Opening it and pulling out her pencil, she tapped it against her lips to think. “Let’s see Marla, maybe the pizza was a fluke.” Quickly she wrote down, ‘I will win $20,000.’ She looked around the room, waiting for maybe a vault to crash through the window, but nothing happened.

She shrugged and got dressed instead. “I’ll be back later Marla! Got to see if McNelly knows who this guy is…” Tossing some food in Marla’s bowl, she walked out the door and made her way down the stairs and out the front of the apartment complex. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk she took in a deep breath before looking down the steps and noticing a curled-up piece of paper.

She walked toward it, picking it up and seeing it was an untouched scratch off ticket. Gale felt her stomach drop, her face warm with nerves and excitement. Rummaging through her jean pockets she finally found a nickel, pulled the notebook from her jacket pocket and began to scratch. “Twenty-thousand dollars…Twenty-THOUSAND DOLLARS!” Gale screamed, her arms flailing above her head, before she caught the gaze of a man looking horrified at her. Clearing her throat, she shoved the scratch off in her pocket before rushing back to the bookstore, the little black notebook cradled in her arms like the precious Crown Jewels.

“McNelly!” She shouted before slinking back in on herself, remembering it was still a bookstore. “Where are you?”

“Gale?” McNelly stood behind the counter, a cheesy romance novel in hand.

“McNelly. The old man who gave this to you, is he a regular?” Gale caught her breath, pushing her wavy dark hair out of her face and behind her ears.

“Yes, in fact, he’s ov’r in hist’ry now.” McNelly looked at Gale, a twinge of concern in her eyes. “Are ye’ sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, thank you!” Swiftly, Gale made her way over to the history section, peering around the corner. Standing in the aisle wearing brown dress pants, a brown paisley pullover sweater and a matching hat, stood the old man. “Excuse me, sir?” Turning to look at Gale, his white hair was thin, but at least he still had hair, his face was carved with wrinkles outlining his downturned mouth.

“Yes, miss? How can I help you?” He spoke in a low hum that was almost soothing. He walked toward her, carrying a small stack of books in his arms.

“Sir, can we talk for a moment? I have a few questions for you.” The old man blinked, confused, but protruded his lip slightly shrugging as if to agree. The pair walked over to the little table near the fiction section and sat down. “Sir, I bought this here yesterday and…well …McNelly said it was yours and...” Gale trailed off, pushing the little black notebook across the table toward the old man.

The old man’s face fell slightly. “Ah, yes. That was indeed mine for many years.” He picked it up, looking at the cover first. “Gale Simon? I assume that is you.”

“Yes, sir. How rude of me, what is your name?” She smiled back at him.

“Sal. Sal Ricci. The cover was rather worn, I guess you couldn’t read my name by the time you had it.” He ran her fingers over the cover before opening it. “Ah, it started a new, and I see you have started too.” He looked at the notebook, cocking an eyebrow as he smirked. “You can have anything in the world, and the first thing you chose was pizza?” He looked up at her, laughing quietly.

“Anything… in the world?” She looked at the notebook in his hands and then up at him, awe and wonder in her eyes.

His laughter subsided as he made eye contact with Gale. “Anything. Mostly.” He closed the book, pushing it across the table and back toward her. Reaching into his pocket, Sal pulled out his wallet, and from his wallet a picture, browned and worn from age. “You see, Aggie and I…we were so happy together. And that book…it made our lives together all the more adventurous and wonderful…but when she…” He paused for a moment. “When she died…it didn’t bring her back. So, I stored it away. It was useless to me…everything was useless without her. I found it while I was cleaning, and I thought someone else could use it.” He brought the picture to his lips, kissing it gently before putting it back in his wallet. “Use it. Get the things you desire but remember to cherish what you already have.”

Gale took in a deep breath, wiping her eyes. “Sal…tell me about Aggie…”