Little Black Notebook

It was just a moment.

Yet in that moment he knew that he had messed up.

“No, no, no, no, NO!-Damnit!” Johnny screamed, looking at the pole that hadn’t been in front of him a moment ago. “Oh my fucking God, WHY!” Hitting the steering wheel, he leaned his head back, slapping his hands onto his face. As if rubbing his eyes would make the whole accident disappear and his car be as it was before. Stepping out of the car into the cold night, he was at least glad that no one else had been on the road. Walking over to the passenger side, he groaned as he surveyed the damage: a huge scrunched dent on the side of his car that was going to be a pain to fix and add a complete set back to his life.

Picking up the phone, he started to dial.

“What matters is that you’re okay. It honestly doesn’t look that bad, it could have been worse”, said Melanie over the phone as he made his way into the bank. “I guess, doesn’t really feel like it,” he gloomily replied. He knew she was trying to cheer him up and it honestly made him feel a little better. She was by far the only positive light in his life. His family had been “helpful” to say the least but none of his sisters had shown him sympathy, his parents even less. His family were not the affectionate sort but Melanie was always hugging him and never allowing him to say self-deprecating things. She had only been working at their job a few months, and he’d gotten the courage to ask her out after a month. She’d surprisingly said yes and now he couldn’t imagine, didn’t want her to ever go away.

Yet in this instance, her warmth was in no way shaking the bout of depression that was coming over him. He was still making payments on that car, had never missed, he’d thought his life was turning around. Now with his car out of commission, his less than warm living situation with his sisters, and his financial setback, he was at the bank to see about a loan.

On the table was a worn black notebook. The edges were slightly frayed and the front looked like it had rubbed against the inside of a bag many times, a well-traveled notebook.

Without thinking much of it, he picked it up and opened it to see if there was a name or phone number of whoever had left it behind. Instead of a name there was a little passage addressed to the person opening the letter.

Dear You,

This notebook, that you hold in your hand, is for you.

Written by others and now hopefully by you too.

Healing is in the power of the one hurt.

Before his curiosity could venture further, the bank manager walked up and signaled him to follow. With notebook in hand, he walked over to the small office area off to the side and sat in the chair. “Mr. Lee, how are you? What can I do for you?” Twenty minutes later and with an estimate of how much he’d be able to borrow, Johnny shook his hand and got up to leave. As he turned to walk out, he noticed the notebook still in his hand. “Oh I almost forgot, I found this on the table, I think that someone left it,” handing the book over. Taking the book, the branch manager flipped it over from front to back before opening it to the same front page Johnny had read earlier. His eyebrow shot up and in closing the book handed it back to him. “I’ve seen this notebook sitting on that table for the longest time. No one but you has picked it up and no one has come in looking for it since. You can have it if you want, it looks like it was meant for someone to pick it up. It might just be you.” Johnny instinctively shook his head and hesitated to take it. “If you don’t take it, I’ll probably just can it or something,” the branch manager admitted.

At those words, Johnny took back the book. For some reason, he didn’t think that this book deserved to be put in the trash. Maybe Melanie might want to read it. She loved to read and as she would say, found adventure in words left behind. Getting into the car he’d borrowed from temporarily from his sister, he turned it on and waited for it to warm up. Notebook still in hand, he opened it back up to the first page with the words “Dear You…” Turning to the next page, he found an entry had been made.And by someone who felt the exact same as him.

“To whoever left this journal I’d rather you give me something more useful than blank pages. How about a blank check? -Nick”

Same Nick, same, he thought to himself. He turned to the next page which had a FUCK YOU, written in bold lettering. A couple of dick drawings, a classic “(blank) was here.”, some scribbles that were probably done by someone’s four-year-old. One page at least had a nice landscape drawing that resembled a spot on the parking lot that you could see outside the bank's windows. After a few more ripped and scribbled pages, he came across an entry that one would find in anyone’s journal.

“Whoever left this, I don’t know for what reason really or why...but since no one else will listen, maybe you will. I regret ever wanting to become an adult. I want to go back to my younger self, heck to two years ago when I was 18 and stupid and slap me. Being an adult is a lot harder than anyone will tell you and no one will show you. I don’t know what I thought I was going to be doing or who I was going to be when I became one. Rich. Successful. Knowing what the fuck I was doing right and proving to my parents that it isn’t so hard as they make it seem. Well it is. No, actually it’s worse. Two years into being an “adult” and I’m up to my eyeballs in debt from college, which by the way I have no clue why I’m there. I work a crappy job as a waitress where people feel like it's their right to be nasty cause their order didn’t come out as they like it and everyone wants a refund and refills. My friends HA! What friends? They all seem to know what they want to do, where they are going. They’ve all left me and our group chat has grown quieter and quieter. Their stories are full of pictures from parties that they’ve been too, joining clubs, fighting for causes and me… I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing! Nothing seems to be going right for me, I’m too broke and too tired sometimes to even want to make a change. People might call it surviving but it's just drowning with small bursts of air here and there. I just wish I could take a break, you know go find myself like people do in movies in some foreign country but traveling costs money and I don’t even have a passport because I’m too broke to even take the picture. I wish someone would tell me what to do. What should I do!!?!??!! Like you would tell me. Like anyone would tell me. No one gives a shit and I’m about to not give one either.”

It ended just like that. No name like the last time. Nothing. But Johnny could relate to this. How many different career paths he had tried only to quit when they didn’t pan out as he expected. Or just got tired of them. Now for the past three years he was working a warehouse job that he hated but couldn’t seem to find anything else. He was only 24 yet he felt like he was a 60 year old man who was always tired and all he did was work, eat, sleep and repeat. People were always saying that he was young and it was okay to still be figuring himself out. Not his family. His sisters all had good paying jobs, knew what they were doing. Even his 19 year old sister was doing nails and had an online store. He just felt like he was doing absolutely nothing significant with his life and it felt fine at times. Other times it made him feel anxious which spiralled into a depression he couldn’t shake. Even getting high didn’t make him feel any calmer. He had no idea what he was doing or going to do and no one seemed to be willing to cough up the answers.

He felt his eyes sting and his vision get blurry. Great, now he was going to start crying. Removing his glasses he tilted his head back and blinked his eyes rapidly. His chest felt tight and his breathing was short. His mind felt overwhelmed. He needed a release he just didn’t know how to or what. What was it that Melanie always told him to do? Remembering her gave him a feeling of warmth and calmness. She always seemed to know what to say and do. Johnny tried calming himself by taking in deep breaths. She always tells me to breathe in deep, he thought, recalling moments where she’d hugged him tight and rubbed his back while telling him to breathe. He felt the tightness in his chest ease and his eyes were stinging less, though the blurriness remained. A slamming of the car door jolted him out of his moment and he could feel his face turn red as he looked back down and hoped to God that whoever entered their car hadn't just seen him crying. Be waited till he heard the engine turn on and the car pull out of the parking lot. Looking up he saw the back of the car pull away and he was alone once again more.

Putting his glasses back on, Johnny turned the next page and saw another entry. It had the same handwriting as the first but this one was a little less hurried and anxious than the previous one.The entry before had been hurried, letters squished together as if they couldn't get the words out fast enough. This one handwriting was clear and more confident.

“I’m back! I think I got this adult thing figured out. I’m not rich but I’ve got a lot more saved and a little more to spend than I did before. I even have a 401K! I didn’t even know what that was but now I do! I think you helped, whoever you are that left this notebook. I don’t know if you read what I wrote before or will even read this. Just know that you helped. Feeling like someone heard me helped. Heck, facing what I was dealing with helped more. My friends, the ones that all moved away, I finally just up and told them how I felt. Some of them didn’t reply or they said they felt sorry for me that I felt that way. But there were a few that actually related to what I was going through. One said she still can’t make up her mind in what she wants to major in while one says he is too scared to take the chance of actually just quitting and instead make music like he’s always wanted to. Another said that she’d thought about committing suicide once or twice and the second time her roommate had caught her. She is now seeing a therapist and says talking it out helps. I guess this is like therapy. Having someone you don’t know listen and be unbiased. Its like facing, no more like seeing all your problems in front of you and realizing that there is a way out sometimes. You just have to look differently. I quit waitressing. I found a job as a clerk in a dentist office and I find that I actually am good at it. I like helping people even though I’m not that one fixing their teeth. I am good at managing the schedules and appointments, helping people with their bills. I don't know if it's where I'll stay but at least I don't feel lost or that I'm the only one. That it's okay not to know it all. I can say that I'm not drowning anymore. I'm breathing and floating freely."

Johnny smiled. He could feel relief that he knew whoever this was at least was making it. It made him feel like he could make it too. Maybe what he needed was that type of change. Maybe I should start looking at something else, anything else, he thought. But as he felt a little hope, those dark reminders came back. He had no car, his funds were limited and who would want to higher him. He only finished highschool, he'd taken a few college courses but it wasn't something he could really use.

He felt his anxiety build up. His mind drifted back to Melanie. She'd finished college and she was working the same job he was. Granted she had been laid off from her old job. She just had something about her, a confidence that she knew herself. She told him from the beginning that she did not view their job as being set back. "It's just another learning opportunity and I can take this time to really look for something I want to do." She was so motivated. He felt the complete opposite and had no idea why she entertained him.

He turned the page to find some more entries. They all seemed similar in that they started out as a rant, these people just venting out their energy to a person they didn't even know. And their following entries were always the opposite. It was like the notebook helped. No, the notebook is helping, he thought. It helped them see.

And as he read each entry, he kept searching for what it is that he saw. What brought them out. How did they do it?, he thought. What changed them? He resonated with their stories and their pain and he wanted to have their small victories and triumphs.

One person has lost their business and they couldn't see their marriage or family coming out of it only to have gone to a friend later who gave them some advice. Not only that but they had come up with a new business plan and were succeeding in e-commerce. One girl wanted to move to another country but no one believed she'd really do. Her following entry was a postcard left behind of a picture of her in Istanbul and saying she was a traveling journalist and this was her third country that she'd be living in for the next few months. She wrote that she had to go and sent her thanks to the notebook.

He got the end of the notebook where a few blank pages were left. Maybe…

He opened the glove compartment of the car and searched for a pen. Finding one with what looked like barely Any ink left, he leaned the book against the steering wheel. And waited.

Johnny stared at the paper. What should he right? Should he really be doing this? What if someone he knew saw it? What if it didn't work for him like it did everyone else? Then Melanie came to mind. She would have written in it without hesitation. So he started writing about her.

"Melanie always calls me her Eyeore, you know that depressed donkey from Winnie The Pooh. She says she can see my rain cloud when she knows im moody. I laugh at it but I really think I'm just like Eyeore. I don't see how they can be so positive when the world is fucked up and so are people. She tells me all the time I should get out more and make friends but I dont see the point. I mean I have some friends, don't get me wrong. But close to me? Nah, too.many people have done me dirty and Im not about to let anyone do that to me again. Shes right when she says i have a hard time trusting people. But I'm used to it. Beside her and a few other people at work, I just keep to myself and look out for me. Cause at the end of the day only me has my back...and if it sounds lonely, it feels that way too. Im not really motivated to do anything cause I dont really have anyone to support or that I feel supports me, you know? My family isnt there for me. They don't believe in me. All they have to say most of the time are jokes when we aren't fighting over something. And half the time I don't feel I deserve to have anyone be around me when i'm so depressing and negative sometimes. I know I even pushed Melanie away...but she doesn't know...and I dont esnt her to know how low i feel, how insecure I am. I joke about it but its all walls I put up so I dont get hurt anymore…

He could feel the tears come down as he wrote. Johnny had to stop writing for a moment just so he could wipe his face to see. One tear had made it onto the page, blurring the words but he didnt care. Hr just let it all out, filling up the pages with his lonlieness, his unforgiveness, his insecurities that all made him feel unloveable.

After he felt like nothing else could come to mind, he stopped. He let himself continue to cry, breathing in and out, letting the waves of emotions stop crashing and become calmer, steadier. His eyes moved over the pages, taking in all that he had written, all that he had left out. And then his eyes wandered back to the top where her name stood. Out of all the sadness and fear and doubt, she was still there. His light, his ball of positive enegry. The best friend he had ever had. She was someone who cared, who didnt mind when he texted her funny memes or called her every day just to hangout over video call. She was always down to go anywhere and try anything. He always down played it but she was the only one who said the words he wanted the most.

With her face smiling in his mind, her dimples like deep canyons on their side of her face, her eyes full on sincerity when she said, "I love you."

Her, he thought. I want to be like her. Free, out there, bold faced to say whatever, happy. Not just be like her. He wanted her. He wanted to be able to keep her happy and positive and a light in his life. Its a bit cloche he thought, doing something all for a girl. But he could feel his heart racing, his mind clear and open to possibility. She is motivation but this, this is for me too.

A couple of weeks later and Johnny drove his new, slightly used grey Subaru into the parking lot of the bank. Opening the glove compartment, he pulled the notebook out. Smiling, his hands rubbed absently over the cover. Making his way to the entrance he found no one in the lobby and just the teller who seemed to be counting some bills and the branch manager who had been there before. Heading over to the table, he laid the little black notebook down and silently said he thanks and good byes.

"Oh, Mr. Lee, I was wondering when you'd be back." he said smiling. Johnny smiled. A real one this time with no doubts or insecurities in it. "Yea I just came to leave the notebook. I think someone will come back for it."

"I dont know. It was here a a long time before you came."

"Trust me, someone will come for it." He turned around to leave, hearing the rustling of flipped pages. As he was about to open the door, the branch managed shouted, "Hold on Mr. Lee. I think you forgot something."

The branch manager had found a flap in the back of the notebook and out of it he pulled a small worn envelope. Johnny's eyesbrows furrowed. He hadnt noticed that back there. Taking the envelope, he say the front had written on it "For you."

Opening the envelope he saw a letter and a folded piece of paper. Unfolding the letter he read, "To the one who happens across this envelope. What you needed most you found and what you probably wanted just as much but didnt know was there you have found as well. Hoping this helps." The small folded paper was a checl for 20,000 with a space blank for a name. "Uh, I think-"

"I think sir, that our teller can help you if you need anything else." He said with a wink and smile.