In the rain

It’s funny how we never notice the little things about a person unless we pay close attention. Little things that can shape and change your life in ways you would never imagine when it comes to the choices that you make. My little thing is that I hate the rain, I always have, ever since I was a child. My mom says I would cry as a baby, every time I would get wet. My earliest memory is being three years old wearing a bright orange raincoat, I watched as the raindrops formed on our front window and pouted my lip in disgust.

“Mama?” I asked, turning to my mother who was standing across the room tying up her curly black hair.

“Yes, baby?” she responded.

“Do we have to go out today? It’s raining”

She walked over to me and bent down so that we were at eye level before she whispered the following words:

“One day baby girl, that rain outside is going to bless you. One day you’ll be glad that you had to go out in the rain.”

The short answer was yes, we did have to go out in the rain, but her words stayed in my head for years to come. That does not mean I did not still absolutely loathe rain and avoid it where and when I could, because I did. It just means that even at three years old, I just knew there was something true about those words. So, when I had to leave the comfort of my room to pick my younger sister up from school because my mother was stuck at work I rolled my eyes.

Not because I had an issue with picking her up, something about the rain just wrecks my mood. I grabbed my grey hoodie off my bed and threw it on with a quickness before grabbing my keys off of my desk. I ran down the stairs and almost left before grabbing an umbrella.

Almost.

I grabbed the umbrella out of the stand near the same front window I had watched raindrops glide down fifteen years before and headed out into the heavy rain. As I walked the short distance to my sister’s school a series of thoughts went through my mind. I wondered what I would have for dinner, when my next shift for work was, and honestly, looking back on that moment in time; it all paled in comparison to what was to come. In my subconscious ramble, I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings. My jean leg got caught in the gate of a house that I knew was abandoned and as I bent down to unhook myself I saw a small black book being soaked by the rain. My curiosity got the best of me and I grabbed it, quickly stuffing it into my pocket before I continued my trek to the school.

I shook the water off of my hands and wondered what was in the tiny black book that was now in my possession. As I made my way up the concrete hill that led to my sister’s school, I could see her small black figure in distance and I smiled, she was nine. At that age absolutely anything feels possible and you have no idea how much the world will try to stifle your shine. Not my Era, she shined as bright as the stars to me and everyone who knew her.

“Hi kiddo.” I said, as I pulled her under my umbrella and out of the rain.

“Hi Jaz,” she said to me, as she grabbed my free hand.

“How was school?” I asked, I genuinely treasured the days I spent picking her up from school.

“It was good, I learned my timetables today.”

“Times tables already? What’s 3x3?”

“Uh…9. 3x3 is 9.”

“That’s my girl,” I said, pulling my hand out of hers and pulling the small soaked back book from my pocket.

“What’s that?” she asked curiously.

“I don’t know, why don’t you open it and tell me?”

I handed her the small, soaked book and she opened it, the pages seemed to be not nearly as wet as I thought previously.

“Huh, it’s a bunch of numbers.”

“Numbers?” I asked, taking the book from her.

I bent down to take a look at it, on the worn brown pages I saw the code “ASK4ANDYOUSHALLR3CI3VE”. I found that to be kind of comical. There was a small website written down underneath and I fully planned to research it as soon as we got back to our home and I got out of the rain. As we made our way into the house, I made sure Era took off her rainboots and coat.

“I’ll make you a snack in a sec, just let me check this out.” I said, running up the stairs to my room.

“Okay!” I heard her call out from below.

I grabbed my laptop and took off my slightly damp hoodie. As the search engine page opened I typed in the website and code. What I saw next made my stomach flip:

To you, who have found my small black book, I give $20,000 to do as you wish, with the only requirement being that you will pay it forward in one small way or another.

Signed,

Abigail Tate

Who the hell was Abigail Tate?