Not-quite gold

01.

The money found Jam the day she realized she wasn’t poor.

02.

There it was.

Sitting vulnerably on the bench next to her apartment.

Like a middle-aged man waiting for a blind date, it seemed to be asking her to love it and hate it and smother it and leave it blissfully alone.

It was a large coin–about the size of a silver dollar, but much thicker, and perfectly smooth except for a large “X” that seemed to change shape ever so slightly the more she stared at it.

And the color. It was unlike any color Jam had ever seen. Almost gold, but not quite.

It reminded her of the scones that she had woken up at dawn to make. A rustic color, but full of power.

She reached to pick it up and stopped.

Life usually happened to her. But here she was, happening to life.

She would pick up the coin. Or she wouldn’t. Either way, it was her choice.

Not her mother’s, who hated both life and happenings.

And not her father’s, who had surely made enough choices for a hundred lifetimes.

Gripped at once by the fear that someone might come and take the coin, Jam reached down and grabbed it. Her heart was beating.

This was her coin. She was meant to find it, not anyone else. And to think she had almost let it be stolen.

She stuffed the coin deep in her wallet and danced home.

03.

As soon as she had deadbolted the lock behind her (which, of course, she never did), Jam began to worry.

What if Tally finds it while I’m asleep?

Jam trusted Tally, her roommate who said the word energy slightly too often and too slowly to be considered normal. But, well, you just never know.

Tally already had a job that paid her enough to afford Jam’s scones.

Jam took her small black notebook from her backpack. With her pen-knife that her mother never approved of her having (much less wearing on her belt), she carved a tiny hole in the pages and plunked the coin inside.

Jam slid the notebook under her bed gingerly, careful to cover the edges with the bedsheet, lest Tally see it while she was doing her stupid breathing exercises.

She realized this made no sense and promptly decided that it would be much easier to take a nap than to reckon with the fact that she might be going crazy.

04.

Jam knew something was off as soon as she woke up.

Tally was crying.

Jam rushed to the kitchen to find Tally on the floor, sobbing.

Though she wasn’t proud of it, a part of Jam found a vile pleasure in seeing Tally cry. She knew her face wasn’t hiding this, and she didn’t care.

“What happened?”, she asked, with more concern than can be considered sincere.

Between wails, Jam could make out one word: Jobie.

Jobie was Tally’s fiancée, whose tantrums Tally dutifully endured and who reminded Jam too much of her father to be attractive.

Neither of these feelings was relevant anymore, though, as Jobie was dead.

From what Jam could piece together between wails, there had been a fight, and Jobie had jumped out of the window.

“You’ll find another guy, Tally.”

At once, Tally stopped crying.

Something in her face changed, and Jam recognized it at once.

Tally began to smile the kind of smile that people make when they are about to do something truly insane.

She stood up slowly, as if in a trance, and began to walk towards her room.

“Tally, c’mon.”

But Tally ignored her.

“Tally, stop.”

Jam followed her, noticing that her footsteps were growing faster.

“Tally! Don’t!”

05.

“The care here at Jåmes & Wydow is eminently affordable. I am sure you will agree.”

“What’s eminently affordable?” asked Jam.

“Well, ma’am, it seems that our highly decorated medical director has recommended your friend… Tallulah–”

“Tally.”

“Yes. Tallulah will have a minimum stay of twenty days.”

Jam almost laughed.

“So...twenty grand?”

“I am afraid so. Twenty thousand dollars for twenty days at Jåmes. Surely your friend Miss–… Miss Yang is worth such a paltry fee.”

For a moment, Jam wasn’t sure if she agreed.

“Maybe she should have thought of this when she decided to jump out of the window,” she muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I mean–... I don’t work at your hospital. I work at a bakery.”

Dr. Lovekind gave the kind of disappointed sigh that doctors aren’t supposed to give.

“I see. Well, perhaps you could have a bake sale!”

At once, the thought came to her fully formed. The kind of thought that, once it arrives, can’t be un-thought.

The coin. She would have to sell the coin.

Even if it was almost worthless, maybe it would be enough for a night or two. She could notify Tally’s parents, and maybe they’d even reimburse her.

06.

The coin was gone.

Where it used to be was a date, written in the same primitive handwriting. June 19. June 19th was Jam’s birthday.

She was indeed going crazy.

Her phone rang, making her jump.

“Hello. Is this Miss… Jamboree Barker?”

“Who is this? Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Barker, but this is Dr. Lovekind at Jåmes & Wydow. We were just speaking about Miss Young?”

“What do you people want?” shouted Jam, now beside herself.

“Oh, Miss Barker, I know how hard a time this must be for you,” sneered Dr. Lovekind.

“I just wanted to call you to say that as soon as we hung up, I received payment in full for Miss Young’s treatment.”

“What? From who?”

Dr. Lovekind gave a haughty laugh.

“As I’m sure you know, that is privileged information, Miss Barker. Before you hang up on me again, though, may I ask whether you have ever perhaps considered one of our fine programs for young women such as–”

Jam slammed the phone down before she could finish.

07.

“Happy Birthday, Rhubarb!!! Anything crazy yet?”

Like she had done for the past three months, Jam woke up and texted her new partner, Chris.

He had already beaten her to the punch.

“Thanks, Butt Cake! Nothing yet. (Except you.)”

Jam always proofread her text messages, which made Chris laugh, which made her feel loved.

As soon as she finally pressed “send,” there was a knock at the door.

Her heart started to race.

She called Chris, but he didn’t pick up.

The knock returned, this time louder.

“Rhubarb?”

“Chris?”

Jam opened the door carefully.

“Your hands are trembling. Are you ok?”

“You just–surprised me. That’s all.”

“I brought scones for your birthday.”

“Scones?”

“Of course, silly. I think you made them. I called Jo yesterday to make sure she set aside a few from the batch you made.”

He rummaged through the bag and handed her a scone.

“Here–take this one.”

Jam stared at the scone and then at Chris, trying to calculate the likelihood that it would explode.

“Go ahead, Rhubarb–it’s your birthday!”

Jam slowly broke the scone in half, as she always did.

A small ring fell out, almost in slow motion, onto the floor. Chris kneeled to pick it up.

“Jamboree Elodie Barker–”

Jam gasped and started to nod.

Then she noticed the ring. It wasn’t the usual diamond ring. It was a smooth band, almost like a wedding band.

And the color. It was a color she had only seen once before, and never since.

Not-quite gold.