The Price to Pay

After a long day of work, I was excited to come home to a glass of wine to finish "celebrating" my birthday. As I pulled into my garage, something by my front door caught the corner of my eye. I put my car in park, grabbed my laptop bag, and went to the front door. There was a small gift bag addressed to me but did not identify who had left it. I grabbed it, shifting my laptop bag to my other shoulder so I could grab my keys and head inside.

I set all of my stuff down inside and decided to run a bath as I poured myself a glass of wine. The merlot instantly put me at ease as it touched my lips because it reassured me that the workday was, in fact, over.

I had been struggling with the prospect of working myself into the ground over a 9-5 job that didn't feel worth it and didn't allow me to pursue anything else in my spare time because I was either drained or working when I was supposed to be off (salary, am I right?). While I knew my mental health couldn't keep up with this day-to-day struggle, I had no way of escaping because I couldn't afford to pursue my passions.

I had always wanted to be a full-time author. While I mainly focused on fiction series, I was also talented in poetry and connected with my audience by talking about my experiences and trauma.

While I daydreamed about these possibilities, I lowered myself into my bath, allowing just my face to be above the water as I focused on clearing all of the thoughts from my head. I was brought back to reality when my phone went off, startling me.

I sat up in the bathtub and dried my hands off before grabbing my phone. It was my cousin texting me to wish me a happy birthday, saying that she hoped all of my wishes came true. I remembered the cupcake I had gotten from HR that I had left in the car and thought to myself that I should grab it and light some candles so I could actually make a wish.

I responded back to her message as I took the last couple sips of my wine. Once I had responded, I opened the drain, got out of the tub, grabbed the towel, and dried myself off. I put my fresh set of pajamas on and went back out into the kitchen where I was greeted with the mysterious bag I had already forgotten about.

I situated myself at the dining table as I pulled out the top tissue paper. There was a card in the paper that fell to the table as I pulled it out. I grabbed the card, gently opening it and pulling it out of the envelope. It had some flowers on the front and simply said "For a special someone." I opened it up, and found that the card did not have the generic typography in it. Instead, there was a short, handwritten note.

"You are a beautiful woman who could use a break, so here it is. But remember, everything comes with a price, whether we realize it or not. You may not pay it today, but you will pay it."

Yet again, no signature or identifier. I also didn't recognize the handwriting at all. It felt very ominous, and yet, I also felt this promising sense of hope in what's to come.

I pulled out more tissue paper to reveal the bottom of the bag. There was nothing else in it, which I found to be odd for how heavy the bag was. I reached in to feel around, and sure enough, the cardboard bottom came out to reveal stacks of cash. I pulled them out, revealing a little black book underneath. Before I grabbed the book, I counted the bands to find there was $20,000. My mouth fell ajar as I stared in disbelief. I grabbed the book to see if there was more explanation.

"Don't forget, the price to pay will come. Happy Birthday, Maria." My stomach twisted reading my name. Seeing my name meant this wasn't just random and that someone had gone out of their way to give me this particular gift.

Why would someone do this for me? $20,000 could help me publish my first book, pay off the rest of my debt, and leave some over so I could donate to my favorite charity. I tried to pick my brain to see if there was anyone I knew in the financial position to do so, but I couldn't think of anyone.

I grabbed the cash, still in disbelief, and stood up to take it straight to the bank. I grabbed my wallet and keys and left.

I got to the bank and pulled up to the deposit lane. I pulled out my ID and debit card to prepare for my transaction. It took a few minutes, and then I was able to grab the deposit canister. I placed the cash in there along with my cards and filled out the slip.

A friendly voice came across the intercom, "Hi, how are you doing today? Are we doing a deposit or withdrawal for you?"

I replied, "A deposit please, all cash."

"Perfect, send it on through," she said as I placed the canister back in the tube and pressed the return button.

I was thankful that they didn't ask any questions because I had no idea how to explain that 20 grand had shown up on at my front door for my birthday.

The transaction went smoothly and quickly, sending me a receipt to keep for my records. I went straight home, only a two minute drive from the bank. I had to sit in my car for a moment once I pulled into my garage to try and track my thoughts. Once I had taken enough of a breather, I head inside and called my mom.

"Hey, you didn't per chance leave money for me on my porch, did you?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

"No? Why?"

I explained everything to her and told her how odd it seemed that someone would leave that much cash at my front door and risk the potential of it being stolen. We both tried to make sense of it, but when we were unable to come to any conclusion, we decided it would be best to just move on from it.

I got off the phone with her and reached for the little black book again. A little note fell out, and I managed to catch it with my opposite hand before it hit the ground. There was an email login, and I hastily rushed to my computer to see what the email contained. I logged in to see there was nothing in the inbox. I found that to be odd, but I decided I would try to poke around later.

As I got up, I heard the email ding, turning my attention back towards my computer. I sat back down and found a welcome message on my screen.

"Hi Maria, glad you found the note I left for you. You will get instructions on a random basis. Please be sure to complete everything as they come through. Trust me, it will be worth your time."

As I sat processing what I had just read, an email popped into my inbox. It contained a bank account login with instructions to donate $100,000 to a charity for suicide and mental health awareness. Tears started to well in my eyes as I thought about my experiences in the sector. It had been 12 years since my last attempt, but it still felt like yesterday. I was more than happy to complete this task because I knew it was going to a worthy place.

I logged into the bank account to find that there was over $60 million dollars in it. While I picked my jaw up off the ground, I found the information I needed and went to the charity site and donated the amount required.

I went back into the account and started poking around to see if I could gather any additional information. I found that it was in my name and that the money had been added that morning. I still couldn't believe what I was seeing, but I now understood what it meant that there will be a price to pay. And boy was it an incredible one.

These tasks went on for years until, one day, I received an email with the subject line: Final Ask.

My hands started to shake as I went to open it. What could this possibly be as my final task?

The email took a few minutes to load, but when it did, it was sparse. It thanked me for all of the work I had done and all of the great things that were accomplished.

At the end, it reiterated same sentiment it had years prior "the price to pay has now come. Are you ready?"

Then there was blank space. I scrolled as far as I could down to the bottom of the email where I was left with one remaining thought.

"Here is the price: you will never know who set this up or why. But you will be able to continue on the legacy you have built however you see fit with the remaining funds. Good luck, and thank you for fulfilling these asks."