Something to Remember

The bleak day had finally arrived. Alison stood in the cold. Her hand shook in the wind, the $20,000 severance check fluttering in her fingertips. Many of her friends hadn’t even received a reference after being laid off. She was one of the lucky ones, so why did she feel so awful?

The train was full when Alison boarded. She stood at the doors, watching the world blur. A few stops went by until an elderly gentleman got up and gestured toward his empty seat. She took it, grateful for his kindness.

Passengers continued to filter out at their stations until it was just her and a man seated across from her. He held aloft a small black notebook. His heavy brow furrowed as he read. His lips barely moved and his voice was no louder than a whisper. Alison couldn’t make out the words over the noise of the rushing train. It reminded her of hushed bedtime stories told in the warm, dark comfort of her childhood home.

He noticed her watching him and met her gaze. She quickly gave a half-smile and looked away. Her cheeks flushed at his attention.

He spoke up. “I’m just going over something I wrote.” He squinted at the page. “I can’t read my handwriting. At all. That ever happen to you?”

“Mostly at work. I would scribble some reminders and later find them completely illegible. Just trash. Thankfully I do my best work up here.” She pointed to her head and swirled her fingers.

Usually people didn’t laugh at her jokes, but this guy did.

“So what do you do?” he asked.

“Actually, I was let go today. So I don’t know anymore.” Alison’s throat constricted. She felt tears build up, but wouldn’t let them out.

“Oh man, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

She shrugged her shoulders and took a deep breath in and a deep breath out while closing her eyes for a moment.

“I try deep breathing when I’m stressed out, too,” he said.

She appreciated his sympathy. “Do you find it helps?”

“Depends on how bad things are, I guess.”

Enough of this misery, she thought. Alison nodded toward the notebook that he gripped tightly in his palm. “Are you a writer?”

“Oh, no.” He laughed nervously. “I just like to journal. It helps me remember and it makes me feel good. Actually works better than the deep breathing thing. For me, anyway.”

“That so?”

“For sure.” His eyes lit up. He leaned forward in his seat. “Some days I just feel like, what did I accomplish, you know? But then I can read back on some cool experience or interaction I had with a friend or even a complete stranger. And I feel a little bit more grounded.”

“You have a lot of conversations like this? With complete strangers?”

“Hey, I just like to feel connected to the community around me.”

Alison nodded. She didn’t feel the need to validate or invalidate him with her own opinion. She was also preoccupied with random worries bouncing around in her head. Silence fell over the train car. The last stop was approaching. Soon, she would have to go to her apartment and face the reality of where she was. Without a job, without any prospects. She built her resume in her head as the train crawled into the station.

“So listen, would you want to come with me to this thing?” he blurted out.

“What? No. Sorry.” Alison shook her head and bundled her coat around herself.

“I don’t mean like a date or anything. But there’s something cool I could show you. Might make you feel better.”

“I feel fine,” she bristled.

He put his hands up in defeat, that little black notebook still snug in his palm. She was curious what he might write about this interaction, if he would bother to at all.

The train pulled up to the platform and they stood at the same time. He stepped aside to allow Alison to go ahead. But something was nagging her. The more she thought about going home, the less she wanted to. Maybe an escape from her own reality could be good.

“Okay, fine. Where are you going?” she asked.

He smiled brightly. “Have you ever done volunteer work before?”

As they walked east a few blocks from the station, the sun began to set behind them casting a bright orange hue across the horizon. The glass windows of the buildings lit up like lanterns. Alison learned that the train passenger’s name was James and that he volunteered at a homeless shelter in their cafeteria. He explained that he loved to cook, but the shelter menu was very specific as it catered to different dietary restrictions and allergies. Alison watched him talk. His eyes were wide and he made broad gestures with his hands.

When they arrived at the shelter, James brought Alison into a hallway where they switched their coats for aprons and hairnets. She felt invigorated to help; the fresh air and the conversation had lent itself to her good mood. James introduced her around. She had never volunteered before and wondered if they could tell. Even if they could, did they care? She was here now and she hoped that counted for something. She asked what she could do and they put her on serving duty.

She moved around the cafeteria delivering trays of food to gracious people, marveling at their kindness. They all made eye contact with her; some of the friendlier people would pat her hand and ask her a question or two. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so seen. After the dinner service was over, she went to the restroom to wash up. Alison glanced in the mirror and saw that she was genuinely smiling. Yet she felt uncomfortable, almost guilty.

When she exited the restroom, James was waiting for her in the hallway by the coat rack.

“You were phenomenal.” He winked at her.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I saw you out there on the floor. You were like a little social butterfly. Everyone who talked to you went away happier.”

She scoffed. “You can’t know that.”

“Sure I can. I saw it with my own eyes.”

“Perception is everything.” She shrugged on her coat and dug in her bag for her scarf. What she found was a little black notebook. She held it up to James. “What’s this?”

“A notebook of your own.”

“When did you-”

“It’s a spare. I have dozens at home and I always carry an extra. I was getting close to filling mine.” She gave him a look of disbelief, but he pressed on. “I swear! Anyway, it’s a gift.”

“Well, I can’t accept it. I haven’t done anything to warrant a gift.” She started to fret again, but now it wasn’t just about the severance pay and how she would tell her less-fortunate friends. Tonight, she had put herself out there into the world with other people who would depend on her, people who she might disappoint. Alison wondered at her motives. Did she only volunteer tonight to make herself feel better? The self-doubt and the guilt was rising in her chest.

“Listen, do me a favor,” James said. “Take a look at this last page of my notebook. Remember I told you I had no idea what I had written? You take a crack at it. If you can tell me what it says, then you keep the notebook. It’s a trade, not a gift. Ok?”

Alison grabbed the notebook from his hands. It had a soft black cover. It was elegant but sturdy, and still warm from James’s touch. Her eyes fell to the page he indicated. She read aloud the same words he had been whispering on the train.

“She is beautiful and I think she knows it, but she doesn’t want to. It’s not bad to be beautiful, especially when that beauty is deep down. Maybe she never learned that, though it’s not my place to tell her how to feel. She seems sad today. I wonder if she is always sad. Someone so lovely shouldn’t be so sad. I wonder if I could cheer her up.”

Alison stopped reading and stared at James. The door to the parking lot clanged open and shut. A woman walked down the hall toward them and hung up her coat.

“Alison, right? I’m Marjorie, the facilities director.” Alison placed both of the notebooks on the bench and shook Marjorie’s hand.

“Thank you for letting me volunteer tonight.”

“Oh, don’t thank me! It was so good of you to join us. I have to say, you were a spark of light out there. We’d love to have you back anytime.” Marjorie turned to James. “Hey there, J! You rocked it in the kitchen as always.”

“My pleasure, Marjorie!” James beamed.

“See you later, J! And you too, I hope. Home safe, alright?” Marjorie walked to the end of the hall and turned into an office.

Alison sat down on the bench and put her head in her hands.

“Listen, I’m sorry. You just lost your job, right, and you’re stressed about that. I just thought you might enjoy yourself tonight if you-”

“Enjoy myself?” she repeated. “Is it really appropriate to get joy out of this? I mean, this isn’t about me. It feels... wrong.”

“You’re right, it’s not about you. But you’re the one making it about you. That’s your problem. Joy is joy. There’s nothing wrong with feeling good as a side effect of doing good. You didn’t intend for it to happen; it just did. That’s pure, natural joy.”

“You have all the answers, huh? So what about that stuff you wrote about me? It was obviously legible. What was that all about?”

He shrugged, a little flush came to his tan cheeks. “I don’t know. Just trying to find a way to tell you that I think you’re beautiful.”

“Are you seriously hitting on me right now?”

“We seemed to be getting along! I just thought maybe we could go out sometime.”

Alison thought about his request only briefly. Something else was happening to her in that moment. She stood up and walked down the hall. James grabbed his coat and the notebooks and followed Alison to Marjorie’s office. One wall was decorated with plaques and photos, the other lined with books. Marjorie’s desk was at the back, surrounded by a jungle of plants.

Alison cleared her throat. “I’d like to sign up for more volunteer shifts. I just lost my job and it’s important for me to have a routine. It helps me feel grounded.”

“Oh my, I’m sorry to hear about your job. Rough times.” Marjorie stood and grabbed a packet of paper off a shelf. “Here’s our volunteer paperwork.” She hesitated before handing it over to Alison. “I don’t know if it would interest you, but we have a paid position here. It’s not much since we’re a nonprofit, but it’s satisfying work.”

Alison was relieved. It all made sense to her now. Losing a job she hadn’t even liked and receiving a $20,000 severance was a gift. One that she could share. Now she could actually feel good about doing good, like James had said.

“I’ll take it!” Alison couldn’t contain her smile any longer.

Marjorie clapped her hands together. “Well, alright. I certainly like your enthusiasm! Why don’t you come by tomorrow morning? Bring your resume and I’ll tell you about the job. How’s 9 a.m. for you?”

“Perfect! Thank you, Marjorie. I’ll see you then.”

Alison turned to James. “Okay, NOW you can ask me out. And I’d like my notebook, please. I have something I need to write down. Something I want to remember.”