The Ravine

We walk forward every day of our lives. Sometimes we must take a step or two back to figure out how to keep going. But what if one day you suddenly leap way ahead? You no longer understand where you are in life. Taking that step back to understand becomes impossible because that leap took you over a ravine. That was how it felt when the bank informed me of the large sum that was entered into my account.

I was living with my mother and father in our little home a short distance away from town. That day, I went out to the mailbox, dreading the usual reminder that I owe money, when I found my monthly bank statement. I had stopped electronically looking up how much was in my account after I lost my job; I did not need a daily reminder that I was poor.

After sorting through the rest of the mail, I left my parents' envelopes and the newspaper on the table in front of them and brought my letter to my room. I sat in my chair, gripping tightly to the envelope with my name on it: Elaine Blæingr.

My hands were sweating, I thought my heart was trying to get out of my chest. I wanted the anxiety to end, I wanted to stop feeling altogether.

I ripped open the bank statement, ready to let my reality's hopelessness take hold as the page unfolded and I looked at the amount. Instead, another type of feeling flooded over me.

"Twenty thousand and four dollars," I whispered.

Twenty thousand dollars had been entered into my account. The large amount blew my thoughts away, was I happy? I was possibly excited, but not the good kind. My whole body started shaking as my breathing sped up. My vision started clouding while I attempted to read the statement over again. There was no way I earned it and none of my family could afford to suddenly give me such a gift.

Next thing I knew, I found myself bolting to my parents, who were sitting at the table talking over an article in the paper. My sudden intrusion caused them to stop their discussion as they turned in my direction.

"Did either of you win the lottery?" each word felt like an earthquake was happening directly beneath my feet.

Their faces turned from confusion to concern.

"Honey, do you think we would be sitting here if we did?" my father stood up and came over to me. He placed his hands on my shoulders: "What is the matter?"

I handed him my bank statement. He read it over and showed it to my mother. Neither of them knew what to make of it. They discussed possibilities while I stood still, the world swimming in front of my eyes. I knew if I moved again, the next thing I would see would be either the ceiling or the floor.

My condition did not escape my parents' attention as my father pulled a chair up behind me. My mother got me a glass of water and they both reassured me that everything would be alright. We would figure out what happened.

I sat and sipped the water. My mother called various family members to ask if any of them won a large sum of money. When they said no, she laughed it off as a joke before hanging up.

With my parents there, my mind finally settled enough to steady myself: "Should we call the police?"

"Let's have you call the bank first," my mother handed me the phone and the bank statement with the information on it.

I breathed deeply, took a sip of water, then dialed the number for the bank.

"Hello, this is the bank on First Street, how can I help you?" echoed a happy voice through the speaker.

"I..." my voice hesitated, but the person on the other end waited patiently, "was wondering about a sum that was placed in my account three days ago."

"Alright, can I have your name and birthdate please?" she continued pleasantly. After giving her what was requested, she pulled my account up. "I can see why you are surprised. Nobody told you about this beforehand?"

"No, I just got the notice in the mail," I explained.

"One moment please," the banker put me on hold. When the phone was picked back up, a deep voice came through the speaker.

"Hello, Miss Blæingr, I am the manager of this branch and I am aware of your situation. I can inform you that we already verified that this sum was indeed legal with the authorities. We actually have a little book here from the person who deposited the sum," the man stated.

"A little book?" I wanted an explanation so bad.

"Yes, the teller who took care of the transaction was asked to give it to you. If you could come receive it, it may have the answer you wish for," he said as if reading my mind.

"I will be there soon," energy rushed through me as I finished the call and grabbed my father, pulling him out the door. He drove me to the bank, a five minute ride that felt like an hour.

I shot out of the vehicle and ran into the building. A tall bald man with a well trimmed goatee welcomed me, I recognized his voice from the previous conversation. "I am Elaine Blæingr," I informed the manager as I took out my license while my father entered behind me.

The manager smiled after checking my identification. His hand reached into his pocket then handed me back my ID along with a worn out little black book.

"Do you know anything about the identity of the person who deposited the money?" my father asked.

"I am afraid not; our teller did not recognize him. Also, he paid in cash which is what primarily caused our alarm. Once we made certain it was not counterfeit and checked the marks to be sure it was not stolen, as well as informed the police of the strange occurrence: we allowed the amount to be entered into the account," the manager explained.

I looked at the book as my father and the manager continued their discussion. It looked familiar, as if it was a long-lost memory. I opened it and saw faded scribbles, which I then recognized as music notes. As I turned the pages, a gentle melody formed in my head. At the end of the song was a passage, which was obviously much newer.

'You saved me back when we were young. Do you remember that? I was small and weak. Nobody looked at me twice, but you did. You wrote this little tune for me, and hummed it when we were together. When everything went wrong and I contemplated ending it all, you stayed by me and it made all the difference in the world.

That is why, when I saw you a little while back, I knew who you were. I could never forget your pitch black hair, pale skin, and ice blue eyes. But you looked defeated. I could see the same shadow across your face that I saw in the mirror back when we were small. So, I did a little snooping. I apologize.

I found out that you lost your job due to another's mistake, that you were being hounded by debt collectors. I knew I needed to do something. So please, take this money. I only have it now because I am alive, which was impossible without you.

When you remember me, look me up. Call me. I want to talk to you face to face one day even, if you want to, that is.

Also, never give up. Your life is worth much too much.'

I knew who it was. I recalled him looking up at me. I remembered the look in his eyes and wanting to do anything in my power to make him happy. His parents had divorced, he was bullied at school, and he had a hard time learning certain subjects, but his smile was contagious.

When I hummed the tune, my father turned to look at me: "It couldn't be. Was it little Harvey?"

I beamed at my dad, something I felt had not happened in a long time, "I think I owe somebody a phone call."

Harvey had become an attorney while we were apart. So, when I looked up his name, it was easy to find him. We reunited and had a meal together; he refused to take the money back. So, I asked if I could earn it through work.

Now, I work as a paralegal for him. I did not get the position easily. I went through a great deal of training under the previous staff: she was super nice, but very stern. However, when she retired, she told me she knew she was leaving the position in good hands.

Now I am glad I never fully gave up; it was worth hanging on each day. The ravine? No worries, my best friend Harvey gave me an overhead view.