The Fool's Dollar

Once upon a time, there was a princess in every way but the ones that count. She was beautiful, kind, intelligent, and talented.

But the world had moved on. Instead of a castle, she lived in a studio apartment above a busy street. Instead of balls, hand-embroidered gowns, and lessons in etiquette, she had happy hour at the Fool’s Dollar, thrift store business casual that mostly fit, and a useless degree that couldn’t be returned or be bothered in finding a decent paying job. Instead of banquets, she had leftover food every chance she could.

And even with all of that, there was the bit about princes. Even if the world hadn’t forgotten about King’s and Queen’s, our princess found that instead of a prince, though she’d tried her hardest, she had more in common with them and their taste in women.

Still, this wouldn’t have been such a problem, except she’d just lost her job last month. And then her parents had found out about the substantial interest in other females in what had been a valiant attempt at coming out.

After a surprise visit from their church’s pastor last week, followed by a sitcom-worthy amount of shouting and tears- she was cut off. They’d not been paying for much—a phone bill, car insurance, and medical. But when things are already tight, it hurts.

Times were desperate. And as the saying goes, desperate measures were needed.

Sunshine cut through the apartment’s one window in a golden ray of support and hope. She smiled a little, enjoying the blessing of good lighting for once as she was getting ready. She adjusted the low scooped blouse with a final look, trying to get just a little more out of her smaller than average breasts.

It’ll do, she thought to herself before tucking back a lock of dark hair.

A nervous sigh.

You see, this wasn’t about swallowing her pride and taking the leftover scraps. It was doing both those things in front of the girl of her dreams.

Wendalyn Fuller, the silly, loveable first-generation African American that ran Fool’s Dollar, had offered her some part-time work bussing tables when she noticed our princess looking a little rough around the edges after the pastor’s visit. The story came out in the drunken vulnerability that can only happen at 1 A.M. between a bartender and their regular.

Everyone called Tanya “Fool.” In part, this was the name of the bar. But that was more than likely a play on her last name. It was also a term of endearment. You know, the sort that a group uses that would sound mean or rude in a sense, but everyone in the know gives it more love than any epithet rightly deserves. What came first was a secret to everyone but Fool herself, and she certainly liked her mysteries.

It wasn’t a long walk to the bar, but it certainly wasn’t a short one either. Flustered and halfway there, a man stumbled into our princess's path, forcing her to dance away and into that ever-present mess of landscaping that every city seems to think it absolutely must line sidewalks with. The fiver-dollar flats she’d bought before the world had turned against her caught in a root and sent her tumbling. A muffled cry escaped her, but the man didn’t even slow his stride, eyes glued to the glowing screen before him. No one else noticed either, staring into their ever-scrolling window into the lives of people they’ve never met.

Nestled beneath a shrub on the wilderness side of the landscaping, a weathered little black book sat.

A princess, whether or not the world accepted them, would never just ignore such a discovery. Besides, the damage to her outfit was done. What was a little more mud on her knees?

It wasn’t exactly a book in the traditional sense. It was smaller than a hardback and taller and too skinny to be a paperback.

The title on the book, in a chaotically handwritten script, said Leftovers. It looked more like some kind of diary or notebook than anything. Probably dropped by another pedestrian that’d been run off the path by a similarly social media addicted jerk. That or her fairy godfather was finally taking note of her plight. However you diced it, into the knock-off, threadbare purse it went.

Fool herself was waiting at the bar, a smile that speeds up hearts and parts men from their money quicker than a big-pharma blue pill prescription.

“Hey girl,” came the sing-song voice of Fool that had just maybe parted a few too many dollars from our princess as well.

“Good afternoon!” the reply came from our dirtied but still standing tall princess.

“Want a drink?”

“Umm, is this like a trick question to start the interview?”

A magical laugh. “Oh honey, no. You’re already hired. Shift starts in an hour. Figured a drink or two would help set you right.” A not unkind gesture casually encompassed the princesses grass strewn hair and dirty pants.

It’s funny how many drinks you can put away when you’re nervous around someone you like.

Four drinks later and fifteen minutes in, she remembered the little black book. With a triumphant and less than princessly cry of triumph, the book slapped down onto the bar. “Look what I found!”

Fool, having been the instigator of drinks two, three, and four, grinned maniacally. “Sweet Jesus, we’re all saved. Let’s close up for the day and celebrate.” Even her sarcasm was attractive. If princesses were real, Fool would’ve easily been one as well.

They both laughed and laughed and then laughed some more. There are some people you just connect with, you see. And that spark was here for our Fool and the princess. And when you have that spark, even the smallest joke carries one into tears of laughter. If you ever find someone that makes you laugh like that even once, you’ll know to keep them close.

Five minutes till open, Fool poured the fifth drink before either noticed the black book noticed again.

“The book!” Fool said, slapping the bar with both hands. “Have you looked inside?”

A confused shake of the head. “It looks like a journal or something. Isn’t that wrong?”

“Nah,” Fool drawled. “It says ‘leftovers’ on the cover. That’s basically admitting it doesn’t belong to anyone.”

A heartbeat passed. Then a second. Both women reached out on the third, hands touching briefly.

They both snatched their hands back, and two faces flushed simultaneously. Oh yes, there was a spark here. Our princess was beginning to understand through the foggy warmth of a drink or two too many why the interview wasn’t necessary.

“You go ahead, honey,” Fool said.

She did, opening to the first page. In the same wild handwriting was a simple note.

Congratulations! You’ve found me! There are only two rules. Or requests, if I’m to be honest, as I can’t really enforce anything. But if it means anything to you, dear finder, I strongly implore you to think of them as rules.

First, you must spend the money. Today. In its entirety.

Second. At least a portion of it, you must spend on someone else.

There may be no leftovers if you’re to listen to me. Trust me. This will be the best way.

Our princess read it all aloud, pausing at the end to turn a quizzical eyebrow up at Fool.

“Did you say money?” she asked.

The princess flipped through the book. Between every page was a hundred-dollar bill. After a shocked silence, the two counted out twenty thousand dollars from the black book's pages.

“Merci,” muttered the princess.

“Damn straight,” echoed the Fool.

“What do I do?” she asked, the drinks seeming to have evaporated in her the instant the first bill hit the table. “Is this legal?”

A warm, joyous grin had spread across the Fool’s ebony face. “My girl! You’ve gotta do what the book says! You need to spend it!

The princess raised her hands, shaking them in a panicked, less than royal looking way. Even princesses need to be cut a bit of slack now and then.

“No, no, no,” she said. “I have rent due, bills I can’t pay, and a mostly empty fridge.”

It was Fool’s turn to shake her head. Slow and gentle, she reached over the bar and laid a hand on top of our princesses. “Don’t sweat the small stuff. The universe dropped this in your lap for a reason. Follow the rules, and if things don’t work out, we’ll come back tomorrow and get to work so you can pay up those bills.”

“We?” squeaked the would-have-been princess.

“There’s an adventure to be had! I’m not letting you have all the fun alone!” A chuckle was followed by the thump of three different bottles landing on the bar. A tip jar came next, and then finally a hastily scrawled note of instructions. We’re off on an adventure. Honor system today, you rats.

And oh, what an adventure they had.

It started with pizza, which was followed by ice cream. Is there a better way to start spending your money?

The two ran into a homeless woman, and in a fit of inspiration, our princess gave her a handful of bills. Tears were shed by all, and the princess’ heart seemed lighter for it.

New clothes followed, as who wouldn’t want better adventuring clothes?

The two giggled their way from store to store, trying on outfits and never even looking at a price tag.

From there, the adventure continued into last second, first-class tickets to a major city that was only a short hop away. They danced, they saw shows, they laughed, and they hugged. And most importantly, at least to them- they kissed under a bright moon in a city that seemed made of dreams.

Though the kiss was short, genuine, and sweet, and everything a first kiss should be. What was even more critical though they didn’t know it, was while they were gone. Fool’s Dollar had become the spot. A bar with no bartender? That was a place to be.

Physically exhausted and emotionally charged, the princess and Fool returned with their little black book. They took turns filling the pages with their thoughts and experiences of the whirlwind adventure.

Still, the twenty-four hours wasn’t up yet, and there was still half the money left.

A car picked them up, but before they arrived back at the bar in the midst of what must have been the most beautiful sunrise ever witnessed by two people, the princess yelled “stop!” to the driver.

Tires screeched, and the rear end fishtailed briefly as the still groggy driver slammed the brake pedal. A handful of hundred-dollar bills turned his anger to wonder as the princess jumped from the car, dragging a just as confused Fool behind her.

There, on the side of an empty church parking lot, sat a gorgeous, retro VW with an aftermarket camper pop-up. It was the cornflower blue that screamed vintage and shined in a way that whispered a loving hand had gone into its care.

“She’s gorgeous,” the princess said in awe.

A number and a price tag hung from the black For Sale sign on the car. In less time than it takes for a high-end coffee shop to make a pour-over, cash was traded for keys, and the previous owner went off to take care of the rest.

Living situation- solved.

The two rode back to the bar, hearts filled with the foundation of something far greater than could be found in the right-swipe of an app. There was still a few thousand left, and the princess realized that though she’d spent the time with someone, she’d not spent the money only on someone else, or at least in the same way she felt the rules wanted.

She turned to Fool, intertwining fingers with her. It’s incredible what a day of adventure does for one’s soul. For one’s heart. She couldn’t remember having ever felt this good or alive. Not since the easy days of new Harry Potter books and trading Pokémon after school with her childhood bestie. When food tasted better, and wants were as simple as a slumber party with friends.

“Take the rest,” she said. “Spend it on something you want, something entirely just for you.”

Fool took the money slowly, but something occurred to her as she smiled and didn’t hesitate. “Meet me at the bar in two hours.”

The princess dropped her off at the back of the shop, and still floating high above life’s cares, went to clear out her apartment and end the lease. It’d been less than a day, and she was exactly where she’d been in terms of money. But now, she didn’t have to remind herself of the good. She didn’t have to try to be optimistic. She’d been reborn and baptized in the adventure.

Something was odd at the bar when she pulled up, driving her new and now full home right up to the curb at the front door.

For one, there was a line forming around the block despite it being half an hour till open. Interesting, but not alarming. The half-dozen journalists with their cameras, microphones, on the other hand, was.

With tentative steps, she tried to sneak to the front door. Before she made it, the front doors busted open, Fool radiating warmth and joy.

The journos and cameras turned, clambering for an interview.

But she ignored them, stepping over and grabbing our princess’s hand. “Hun,” she began, tears welling at the corner of her eyes. “I’ve never had a more magical, more interesting, and more memorable time with anyone in my life.” She dropped to a knew pulling a small box out of her pocket. “You said to buy something for myself,” she continued. “So I did. I know this is selfish of me, but I want to be this happy forever. Forget everything. Forget the conventional wisdom, the culture, and all the problems. I just want you with me through whatever comes next, no matter what it is.”

Our princess was shocked and beyond pleased. “With all my heart, yes. Absolutely!”

They kissed, they hugged, and when the tears had stopped, the reporters moved in.

You see. While the two had gone adventuring, news of the bar’s hip crowdsourced self-serve style had come up. It was trending. It was hot. It was the next greatest thing.

As if they shared one mind, the only comment the princess and Fool offered was that the bar’s name would be changed.

“What’s it going to be called?” asked a career-driven, microphone wielding woman in that sensible business casual our princess had tried to emulate just a day ago.

“Leftovers,” the two replied, sharing the small, secret smile of women in love.