Tucked Away

Vincent struggled his entire adult life with money and love. He could never seem to make enough to even get by most of the time, let alone be comfortable. He had remained single and had a predilection for daydreaming and getting lost in the past. The last time he remembered being genuinely happy was in high school when the future was bright, and Lacey was the light that shined the way. His mother, still the librarian at his small, rural high school in upstate New York, had called yesterday to let him know that Lacey, who had also never married, had passed away after a long battle with brain cancer. The one that got away was now gone forever.

Vincent and Lacey went their separate ways after school. Lacey earned a full academic scholarship to the best of the best and Vincent took his Uncle Phillip up on a landscaping job half-way across the country. He remained, except for a few trips back home for Christmas and even then, for just a handful of days at most. The burden of mediocrity compounds itself. Vincent fell into the rut slowly and completely without ever fully understanding how and why. Had Lacey thought about him for a second since the last time they had spoken? Their sporadic communication those first few years after high school dwindled into never. Now, Lacey’s death seemed to provide an insurmountable loss he did not know was possible or quite logical. So, the hand-written envelope that arrived today in the mail from an unknown New York address was an odd coincidence.

He opened it despondently and unfolded the single piece of paper to find a personal check and the words “Come home and find the book again.” The check was signed by Lacey Mulligan and was made out for twenty thousand dollars. He would have thought it was a joke if he had not recognized her handwriting. Curling f’s and e’s, faces made inside the o’s, and the familiar “Lace” salutation. The mention of the book was certainly a dead give-away. Vincent figured he had nothing to lose by attempting to deposit it into his checking account. If it did not clear, it did not clear. Status quo. Off he went.

During their two-year love affair as juniors and seniors, Vincent and Lacey were a popular couple. Well-liked and very visible, they piqued the interest of their classmates and were considered rather darling. They relished this designation but kept to themselves, were thoughtful toward each other and very much in love, so they imagined. It was Lacey’s idea to keep a small “sweet nothings” book together. One in which they would take turns writing messages to each other as often as possible. Lacey was an avid reader and spent every available moment in the school library. It was her idea to stash their little black notebook behind “Moby Dick” on the narrow ledge that supported the back of the bookshelf. There was just enough room for it to sit unseen in the dark and Lacey knew there was little interest in the classics section of the library. In fact, during their tenure at the school, she was the only name written on the inside card of “Moby Dick”. She failed consistently to convince Vincent to give it a try considering its reputation for being impossible to read always swayed him.

Vincent vaguely remembered the last time he wrote in their book. He had not believed it would be the last and assumed now that the entry was another repetitive musing on the couple’s enduring love. When the check cleared three days later, he decided it was time to get off his ass and find out if the book was still there. Time to find out why Lacey asked him to find it again and why there was a fresh twenty K to his name. He phoned his mother and let her know he was making a trip back home, “no reason really”.

Access to the school as an unaffiliated adult was made easier by his widowed mother still being an employee there. After an awkward and happy reunion with her, he asked to be given a tour of the old stomping grounds the next school day. In the library that seemed untouched by time, he made his way to “Moby Dick” and hesitated for a moment before sliding the worn copy out and squinting behind it. Their black book was there, the band still tightly wrapped around the front and not nearly as dusty as he would have imagined. He opened it to the last page and his eyes moved to the last entry written in Lacey’s hand. Fresh words…

Vincent. Regrets. Regrets for not staying in touch. Regrets, I guess, for living a different life. Regrets, surely, for living a separate life. It should have been you all along and I am sorry. I know that nothing has been easy for you in many years. Your mom kept me in the loop. The money is for a fresh start. As much as it can be. A thousand dollars for each year we have been apart. I loved you. I love you. I missed you. I miss you. Please, please write a response and put our book back where it has always belonged. It will remain our little secret. Check out the copy of Moby Dick too. You will be pleasantly surprised, I promise, and that will then make it two names written on the card inside. I do not think the librarian will mind that you are not a student anymore. Wink, wink. Be well and be happy. Welcome home. Lacey.