Good Fortune

2:59 AM.

As the garage door closes behind me, I lean my head back against the headrest and close my eyes.

“What a night...” I breathe.

It had been awful. Being a driver for any mobile platform has its drawbacks, especially in Las Vegas, but tonight had been something else.

Opening my eyes, and taking another deep breath, I start my usual search for items people may have left in the car. Occasionally I find a deodorant bar or a pair of sunglasses; but as my phone’s light flashes under the passenger seat, I am startled to see a couple of books.

“It must have been those college kids...”

I tuck the books under my arm and head to the kitchen. I lay them down without pause on the counter and open the fridge. My stomach growls loudly and my heart sinks as I see the mostly empty shelves. It had been the same story ever since my wife lost her job. Scavenging through the kitchen, I mix and match a sorry excuse for a meal and sit at the bar to eat.

The books catch my eye again.

“A practice of divination with coconut shells.” And one with no title, no cover photo, just a simple black book.

I pick it up.

As I turn the cover and look at the first couple of blank pages, the wind picks up outside. But that’s not abnormal for Vegas.

“To the recipient of this book

Your woes shall soon be behind you, if you follow these steps closely:

•Write down your name.

•Tell no one about the book.

•Do not keep any of the money you are about to receive.

And finally

•Give this book to someone deserving.”

I’m not the superstitious type...but...

Setting it aside, I finish my snack, and browse idly on my phone through emails and my bank account. It was a sorry story.

I look at the book again.

The debate doesn’t last long. I find a pen in our junk drawer and scrawl my name upon it’s crisp white page.

I wait. I don’t know what I was expecting.

Unless you think the wind stopping was something.

As I crawl into bed, my wife stirs and drapes a heavy arm across me with a soft murmur of “how was your night?”

“It was fine.” I kiss her forehead and think about the black book that’s now sitting in my desk drawer...

~

“Good morning.”

God I love her voice. Soothing and sultry. Her voice is meant for jazz and cozy night clubs, but she never caught a break.

I pretend to hiss as the sunlight creeps in to silhouette her. She laughs.

“I’m headed to my interview. I’ve set aside something for breakfast, and lunch for you and the baby.”

She was magic. How she could always make something out of nothing, I don’t know.

Her hands are warm on my face as she kisses me goodbye.

“I’ll see you in a couple hours.” She smiles. “I love you.”

I’m reluctant to get up. I’m still tired. But I hear our baby in the other room playing and I know “There’s no rest for the weary..” I groan as I get dressed.

I was barely buckling the baby into the high chair when the doorbell rang.

“They’ll place whatever it is next to the door and I’ll get it in a minute.” The baby smiles at me.

Another ring.

I don’t remember placing an order for anything...

As the baby eats a snack, I open the door. A man holds simply wrapped, brown package. He hands me a pad to sign for it and without a word, leaves me with the parcel.

My pulse quickens as I set the box on the counter and trace a knife along the tape line. My hands begin to shake when I look to see the box is full of money.

“What..the..hell?” I step back. “No...” The black book flashes across my mind and I realize I’m standing with my mouth open. I look at the baby. Not telling anyone probably includes her..that is, I don ’t want to chance it. I scan the contents on the box. There has to be at least 15, maybe even as much as 30 Grand in there.

My Mind’ racing.

We could pay off so much of our debt.

We could fill our pantry and pay rent for months!

I feel sick.

My daughter smiles at me and stuffs a massive handful of food in her mouth.

The book flashes across my mind.

“Don’t keep any of the money you’re about to receive.”

The feeling of sickness adjusts lifts into my chest and my heart has a heavy ache.

As if she knows what I’m thinking, she starts to shake her head.

I kiss her little forehead.

The need to check above my head for a lightbulb takes over as an idea strikes me and before I know it, I’m packing my daughter, the box of money, (which I had carefully taped shut and both of the books into the car.

I remembered seeing a home for neglected children the last time we drove out to Boulder City. If there was one place I know the money would help someone, it’s there.

As we travel, I’m caught in memories of my baby in the NICU, and everyone who helped us. I wouldn’t feel right not giving back to the community somehow.

I don’t say much to the people who greet me. I just smile and inform them of an anonymous donation and leave it at that. My ego is struggling but I can feel that I’ve done the “right thing.”

Next stop.

The library.

It’s been a lifetime since I’ve been here.

As I stare at the books in my lap, idling next to the book return, I feel ridiculous…a little flutter hits my stomach and I drop the books in the return slot. They bounce in and out of my sight.

I jump, broken out of my trance when my daughter grabs my pant leg. She stares at the automated doors as people flow in and out of the library.

I stare, too.

“You know, what..?”

I turn the stroller and march in, in a moment of possession and find myself in front of the help desk, signing forms for a library card. Maybe it’s out of curiosity. Who’s going to pick up the book? I’m hopeful for them; which sounds ridiculous because it’s not like I just got a lot out of following the directions in some random-ass book. But at the same time, I felt right about it.

In no time at all, I’m pushing the stroller and several books outside and back to the car.

~

By the time I get home, my wife is there and she looks sullen.

“They called me back and I didn’t get the job.”

Without pause, I hear myself say: “Come on, let’s go for a walk. We’ll take little miss to the park and talk about it when we come back for dinner.

She gives me an expression of resistance but doesn’t argue.

It doesn’t take long to get to the park.

Pretty soon my wife was pushing our daughter in the swing and humming to her.

I could listen to her sing all day.

She smiles at me, taking a moment to really make eye contact before turning that small hum into a full melody.

“Stars shining bright above you…Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you.” “

~

Later, I’m standing in the kitchen. Our dinner sizzles in the pan on the stove and the baby has already gone to bed.

“Honey?” Her voice carries from our bedroom. It sounds odd.

“Is everything ok?”

With no answer, I turn the dial to “low” and set out to find what she’s upset about.

She points to her computer screen, lips parted slightly.

“I was going to show you a video I saw earlier today and I saw it....is that...me??”

I’m baffled.

“You..wha..”

And there she is. Both in front of me in person and through our data stream with an embolden headline:

“WHO IS THIS????”

Our trip to the park had gone viral.

And all I can think of is that all she needed was to catch a break...

“That’s you..” I almost can’t breathe.

“Maybe things will be different.” Her voice sounds calm.

I picture the book one last time.

“Maybe...”