Myrna

Dr. Chelsea Swift placed her laptop into her briefcase before glancing at the the only person she admired, Dr. Francine Pershing, head of the 20 cutting-edge cancer clinics she’d built over a 40 year career.

It was 6 pm and they were the last two in the building; standing next to the receptionist desk. They had just finished a little holiday party before the two-week vacation.

Still, everyone knew about the grand Christmas gala that would be happening at Dr. Pershing’s estate in a week. Every year, only the who’s-who’s of the town went to the event of the season along with many of Dr. Pershing’s staff and patients. All were treated like VIP’s and she was one of the most loved and successful people the city had ever known.

It was, as only known to Dr. Pershing’s family and Chelsea, to be the last gala. Even with the best treatment at her disposal that extended her life by years, Dr. Pershing only had months to live with terminal cancer.

This meant someone would need to be named her successor. Nobody wanted that more badly than Chelsea.

“Well, that was just lovely. I’m going to miss this place and the wonderful people” Dr. Pershing said with a sigh and wiped a tear from her eyes.

“I suppose. They sure seemed happy about those bonus checks you gave them” Chelsea said with a bit of snobbiness. She cared more about her doctor title and the income her role earned than anything else. For this, Dr. Pershing wasn’t sure Chelsea was ready to take her place.

“Oh, yes. Did you see how Mrs. Montoya said she’ll be able to buy gifts for her children this year!” Dr. Pershing exclaimed with glee.

The woman who cleans the clinic? Chelsea thought.

“That reminds me! I wanted to thank you too, Chelsea! You’ve helped save so many lives!” Dr. Pershing said graciously and held out an envelope.

Chelsea immediately tore it open and found a photo of herself and Dr. Pershing sitting next to one of their patients holding a sign that said “We beat cancer!” On the back was the message “You’re an angel, Chelsea!”

Behind that was a check made out to Chelsea. It was for $20,000.

That’s it? I make more than that in a month! I’d rather just have my name on the clinics! Chelsea thought in disgust.

She forced a smile and said “Thank you” before, to her surprise, Dr. Pershing gave a huge hug.

20 minutes later, Chelsea found herself staring in shock at the message on her dashboard.

“0% Battery. Software error, please call your dealer.”

She was sitting in her fancy, red electric sports car that was parked in her VIP spot with its own car charging port by the clinic’s front entrance. Dr. Pershing had already left in her 20 year old, green sedan.

10 minutes later, shivering in the cold, snowy air, Chelsea sat on the bench of the bus-stop. While waiting for her taxi, she finished a call with her local dealer.

“I expect you to tow my vehicle and compensate me for the inconvenience or you’ll be hearing from my lawyers!

And that’s DOCTOR Swift to you!” she yelled before hanging up.

With a slight grin from asserting her self-perceived authority, Chelsea pulled out her cutting edge, red smartphone that had real diamond accents and opened her social media profile. She began to write a post complaining about her “problem” before almost jumping out her seat from a voice startling her from behind.

“Is this seat taken?” the voice asked and Chelsea looked up to see a very old woman who was was bent over with a cane. She had a knitted yarn hat with holes, large rimmed glasses, a tattered sweater and raggedy dress. Her face had a million little wrinkles but a warmth emanated from within her soul.

Chelsea, in her tailored, black and white herringbone print, haute couture suit, coiffed blonde hair and impeccable makeup , was very startled. She did her best “bedside manner” smile and nodded yes. The old woman wiped some snow off the bench and took a seat with a sigh of relief.

“Thanks dearie, these old bones aren’t what they used to be.

Especially with all the chemo I’ve been through” the woman said before her eyes lit up and she pointed to Chelsea.

Oh my gosh, why is this woman pointing at me? Chelsea thought in a panic.

“Is that one of those smart telephones? How wonderful!” the woman exclaimed.

Chelsea looked down at smartphone.

“This old thing? Um, yes, it is” she said and held it close to her.

The old woman smiled.

“That’s just swell. Technology has come so far hasn’t it?

I’d love to buy one for my grandchildren. At least I’ll be able to take the bus to see them this year though, to say goodbye.

The most technology I’ve been around are those machines that kept me alive this long at the public hospital downtown. I feel bad because I know my children will inherit my medical bills” she admitted to an infatuated Chelsea.

The public hospital? If this woman had gone to our clinic, she would have had better care but at tens times the price! And that's with insurance! Chelsea realized

“At least I’ll be able to give them the gift of history. You see, all my life, I’ve kept a record of my experiences. From living through a war, finding my love, giving birth to my children and all the magic in between, I wrote everything down in my collection of notebooks.

Just like this one!” the old woman explained. From an old sack she was carrying, she pulled out a little black notebook.

She opened it and, inside were pages and pages of the most beautiful, cursive handwriting Chelsea had ever seen.

“My children have told me to get a computer for these and, well call me old-fashioned but I just love the written word!” she went on. Despite the botox in Chelsea’s face hiding her emotions, her eyes began to burn with tears.

“My only wish is that the warmth of the stories in my books will lessen the pain for my children once I’m gone.

Oh, looks like your ride is here and mine as well!” the old woman said as a black, luxury SUV pulled up right as the public bus arrived at the same time.

She stood up feebly and Chelsea helped bring the woman to her bus seat.

“It was a pleasure meeting you. May I ask your name?” she asked the old woman.

“Likewise young lady! Name’s Myrna!

I can tell you’re a very sharp woman with a bright future ahead of you. Don’t waste the years you’ve got left because, take it from me, they’ll go by faster than you think!” Myrna said with a wink.

Chelsea looked at Myrna and nodded before the bus driver yelled “Ma’am, unless you’re riding, I need you to step off my bus!”

“Oh…of course” she mumbled and walked off.

Before entering her luxury taxi, Chelsea saw something on the sidewalk.

Myrna’s little black book.

30 minutes later, she took a sip of a cognac while sitting at the very long, marble bar upon a golden barstool in the kitchen of her downtown, penthouse condominium. It was midnight when she opened up the last page of Myrna’s book.

“My children haven’t visited me in 10 years ever since they found out about my medical bills. At least I have my beloved cat, Biscuit. Who will take care of him when I’m gone?” it read.

Chelsea burst into sobs while the book fell out of her hands and landed right next to her bonus check.

The woes of her electric car suddenly felt so superficial.

She took another sip of her cognac and, before she knew it, Chelsea found herself waking up to the morning light shining through the floor to ceiling, city view kitchen windows.

Slowly opening her eyes, she saw the little black book was laying with the front cover open. Inside was Myrna’s full name and a P.O. Box address with the message “If found, please kindly send me to this address!" on top.

Without a second to spare, Chelsea used mobile deposit on her phone to put her bonus in the bank and immediately wrote out a new check in the amount of $20,000.

For Myrna.

Dr. Swift ran to the courier and overnighted the check to the address with the note “ To the Dearest Mrs. Myrna. Please accept this and feel free to visit my clinic at no charge! I’d love to meet Biscuit too!

With a spring in her step, Chelsea momentarily forgot about her desire to take control of the clinic until the night of the big gala at Dr. Pershing’s mansion.

Looking at herself in the Hollywood style mirror on the wall of her giant bedroom, Chelsea admired the stunning red, designer dress she had bought months ago.

For the first time, she became aware of how shallow it felt. Nonetheless, she headed to the gala.

After the valet took her bright red, electric sports car, Chelsea walked into the grand atrium of the mansion. Multiple bigwigs from the city were drinking cocktails while dancing and gossiping; many of them pointing at her and questioning whether she would become leader of the company.

Dr. Pershing though, Chelsea realized, was nowhere to be seen.

That’s strange, she's always the first one to greet all the guests! she thought.

Chelsea headed upstairs to a grand sitting room. It featured an immense geode stone in the middle with luxurious, leather chairs strewn throughout.

She sat down and looked at all the splendor. It was the very room where Dr. Pershing had decided to bring her on as an apprentice. She remembered wanting to be just as successful as Dr. Pershing; surpassing her even.

“This is quite the room, isn’t it!” a voice came from behind Chelsea that made her heart freeze. She turned around and, to her shock, there stood Myrna

Instead of her raggedy clothes though, she wore the most divine, vintage silvery dress and a fabulous, diamond embedded scarf around her hairless head.

“Myrna! What are you doing here?” Chelsea asked in astonishment.

Myrna chuckled and grabbed Chelsea’s hand. “I wanted to thank you for your gift. I see you found my little black book!

Don’t worry, I didn’t spend it on all these jewels. The money went to help a patient at the public hospital. A young girl who needed it to live a full life after her leukemia diagnosis” Myrna explained.

“But…but that was for you!” Chelsea said with tears in her eyes.

“Dearie, I’ve lived my life already. It’s been full and I couldn’t have asked for a better one. That young girl needed it much more than me.

I do want to say though, you really showed me that you have a heart, Chelsea. In fact, I think you’ve proven yourself in the best way possible!” Myrna said with that same wink she had on the bus.

“Why don’t we walk over to the top of the stairs and greet the guests?” Myrna went on and grabbed the arm of a very perplexed Chelsea.

They walked to the edge of the grand, double staircase but, before coming in view of the guests below, Myrna paused.

“Let me just take this darn thing off!” she said and stuck her hand under her chin.

To Chelsea’s horror, Myrna’s head crumpled up like rubber and completely came off.

It was Dr. Pershing.

“GOTCHA!” she yelled and ran to the edge of the stairs.

“Welcome everyone! Thank you for coming to the gala. To set off the evening, please give a round of applause to my successor.

Dr. Chelsea Swift!”