Table for Two

“Hey Luke,” I said as I passed him in the hallway.

“Maria.” He nodded, focused on his cell, expertly unlocking his apartment door without looking.

I called the elevator to our seventh floor, waiting with my short to-do list. While I dare not complain about my quiet little corner of the universe, my life was mundane, at best. Café, groceries and a quick kitty fix - watching them play at the pet store - constituted the majority of my life outside this building.

Luke peeked his head out his door. “Congrats on the win. Suki told me. Big plans?”

“Thanks,” I said, smiling. “Nothing exciting.” I shrugged. “Finish off the student loan and maybe a nice dinner.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he answered, smirking. “I’ll make an early dinner reservation for Friday at 7:00. Italian or French?”

“Okay,” I replied with stunned optimism. “French.”

I gave him a weak hand wave as I entered the elevator.

“Did that just happen?” I asked myself.

I was excited to learn that my story won first prize in a writing contest with a sizable purse of $20,000. In addition to bragging rights, I’d finally own my master’s degree in English Literature and not have to share it with the Bank of Mom.

En route to the grocery store, I updated my blog, which was now sporting just under 5000 subscribers. I aspired to be the next Maria Popova. Sadly, the only thing we had in come was our name.

When I returned, I tried to copy Luke and open my door without looking. Predictably, I dropped my keys. That’s when I saw the little black book. It had stylistic gold lettering on the cover that read, ‘Your Story’ centred near the bottom.

I guessed it was Luke who left the leather notebook. I’d have to be sure to thank him on Friday.

I robotically opened the fridge and unpacked my groceries all the while thinking about our date; or maybe it wasn’t a date. It was hard to tell. Nevertheless, I gave it a lot of head-space.

With the last dregs of my latte, I picked up the notebook and thumbed through it back to front. Empty pages secretly give me a tiny thrill. Surprisingly, the first page was already occupied. It had the words WINNING OBJECTIVE in all-caps spread across the top.

In beautiful hand-written script the page was indexed accordingly.

10% to the charity of your choice

25% toward a house

25% pay down debt

20% invest

10% savings

5% splurge on something you have always wanted

5% give away cash to random people

Sounds like Mom. She was frugal and linear; but she was overseas, and this was definitely not her handwriting. And, how did the little black book get here? I was only gone for an hour or so. Nevertheless, I appreciated her gamification idea. I phoned, but she didn’t pick up.

Under the percentages, the script continued to the truncated Rules. Demonstrate proof of these rules within 48 hours and write about your experience on your blog. You will be surprised by the results; and then you can claim your prize.

My next reaction was to guffaw.

I took a shower. I always thought best in the warm waterfall. Where’s the downside? I reasoned to myself.

All in. I determined it would take me two minutes to attack the first item. It made my blood boil when I thought of human trafficking. Polaris received a nice donation while I dried my hair. Check.

I made an appointment with my bank advisor for tomorrow. I could check off items two through four easily and in short order.

The hardest part was deciding how to splurge. It’s not like a blogger needs a wardrobe. Besides, what I really wanted was to kill my student loan.

My appointment was at 10:15 the next morning. Amar met me at the reception desk. He pointed with his pen to his office door.

While he logged in to his computer, I briefly told him about the contest and my mother’s game.

“Nice.”

At the end of our hour appointment, I had print-outs of my transactions and a cool $1000 in my hot little hands. With ten bills of $100 each, I decided to let Fate decide who would be favored.

I took a deep breath and walked down the street. It was a warm Autumn day, my favorite kind, with an azure blue sky punctuated by gold, red and purple of the turning leaves.

There was a busker playing the saxophone. I dropped $100 in his case. He asked me if I had any requests. I listened with rapt attention as he played, Coltrane’s Impressions.

With my ears delighted, I sought out a latte. The barista greeted me with a flushed face as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “What can I get you?” she asked with a forced smile.

I answered readily, “Caramel macchiato latte, please.” I handed her a bill. “Keep the change.”

She was shocked. Her entire demeanour changed into a relaxed warmth.

I can hardly describe the euphoria I felt. I was excited to play more. I went to the grocery story with a plan.

As hoped, a nice fellow let me in before him since I only had the one item while his cart was moderately full. He was trying to keep his young boys from overturning the cereal display. I said to the cashier, “We’re together. Must run, sweethearts.” I handed her $100. I blew them a quick kiss.

Just as I was leaving, a teenager dropped his phone, as he was trying to open the door for his girlfriend, which caused a wide, ugly crack in the glass. He swore. “My mom is gonna rip me a new one.”

I gave him a bill. “I just got mine replaced down the street.” I pointed with my chin.

His girlfriend ribbed him. “Thank-you,” he returned with genuine sincerity.

I headed for the bus stop. I saw a mom of four very young children. I doubted she was thirty. I walked past and asked her, “Did you drop this?” I handed her two bills.

Amazingly, she answered, “No.”

“Pretty sure you did,” I said as I walked away.

On the bus, there was a chatty group of preteens with one competent teacher and a few parent chaperones. I surmised the teacher was the one with the clipboard. She was counting heads. “Where d’ya go?” I asked her.

“The museum.”

“Sounds like they loved it.”

“They really did. I was so proud of them.”

“Thanks for all you do,” I said. I snuck a bill under her roster and sat down beside her. We chatted casually.

I got off with the class and decided to walk the rest of the way. The final bill was already earmarked, leaving me two to give away. They were burning a hole in my pocket.

My building didn’t allow pets of any kind. Wanting a kitty fix, I often stopped to watch the kittens play at the pet store. There was a tin can on the counter for the SPCA. I put a bill in it.

As I walked home, I was more and more looking forward to dinner with Luke.

Outside my building there were Brownies selling cookies. I gave them a bill in exchange for a box.

The elevator stopped at the fourth floor. I slipped my last bill under Suki’s door.

I decided I would splurge on experiences rather than things. The students on the bus talked non-stop about their trip. I have always wanted an annual museum membership and I wanted to try a few pottery classes at the art gallery. These were easy enough to purchase online at home.

I received a personal thank-you note from the founder of Polaris to my email account.

It put a smile on my face. I sat back in my comfy chair with contentment, knowing that I helped create a little positive change in my city and beyond.

Then I decided I needed to sit down and start blogging. I was in my element. My fingers raced across the keyboard. I wrote about the contest, notebook and its effects until my wrists hurt and fingers throbbed.

Famished, I threw a frozen pizza in the oven and opened a can of carbonated raspberry water. Then I phoned Mom to tell her all about my amazing day. No answer again. I fell asleep on the couch perfectly satisfied.

I woke Friday morning to no less than 177 unanswered messages. I checked my blog and gasped at the number of new subscribers. I spent most of the day replying to people who followed suit and also gave away one and five dollar bills to random people. My small impact was rippling.

Later, I dressed. Since our small city had only two French restaurants, I had a pretty good idea what to wear to dinner. I had been once before.

Luke looked dashing with the crewneck and sport coat he was wearing. His soft waves fell over his eyebrows.

We were seated at a small table beside a window with red curtains. It was elegantly simple. The last of the sun's rays were spent and the street lights flickered on. In just a few days we'll turn our clocks back an hour.

I was grinning from ear to ear. “Can I tell you about this amazing experience?” I blurted.

“Of course.”

I took the little black book from my clutch. “I guessed you placed this at my door.” I told him all about the charity, and my marvelous adventure yesterday. “And look,” I said showing him my blog, “I have nearly 8,000 subscribers since I wrote about it last night! I can’t wait to see the look on my mom’s face.”

He wore a wry smile. Then admitted, “It was me. I did put the book at your door.” He reached out his hand across the table and gently caressed my fingers.

“What gives?”

“The book came in the mail from your mom who had the wrong apartment number.”

I pulled back my hand. “You read my mail?” I erected an instant wall.

“It came to my mailbox. I simply opened it without looking.” He paused. “Hear me out.”

“Okay.” I leaned back but kept guarded.

“I was an early subscriber. Your ideas definitely intrigue me; and the attached note was two sentences.” He showed it to me.

“I’m flattered, thanks. So you saw the rules then.”

“I made the rules.”

“Pardon?”

The waiter brought us a charcuterie board with a truckle of arisanal cheese and various warm bread rolls. “Wine this evening?”

Luke suggested, “A bottle of merlot please.”

“The notebook was empty. I couldn’t resist the temptation to be playful.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to see the look on your face tonight and hear your animated voice telling me about the thrill of giving money away.”

I let out a long sigh. “It was exhilarating.”

“There’s nothing quite like it.”

Butterflies began dancing in my belly.

The waiter poured our wine. “Ready to order?”

“We haven’t even looked at our menus,” I managed.

“Very good, then.” He made a silent departure.

Just then my cell rang. It was Mom. “I need to take this.”

“Please.”

“Hi Mom. Missed you but I got the notebook, with some interesting additions.”

Luke waited with warm patience as I gave her the abridged version before wrapping up the conversation. Mom asked to speak to Luke. I handed him my phone.

They spoke like old friends with interjections of laughter throughout. He finally hung up.

Staring into his devilish brown eyes I demanded, “Well?”

He returned my cell. “She said she’s coming for Thanksgiving. We’ll have dinner at my place.”

“Really?” I queried with hardly any sarcasm.

“And she told me numerous times how proud she is of you,” then added, “you’re very talented and beautiful.”

We ordered. Dinner was delightful in every possible every way.

We had dessert boxed. “Your prize,” Luke said helping me with my coat. “Let’s finish it tomorrow.” He kissed me skillfully.

I hoped this was my last first date.