Turning the Pages

Myra was a 21-year-old college student at the University of Grand Rapids. Myra was a lost, and wayward soul that was hoping to find herself by leaving all of her friends and family behind. She moved thousands of miles from her family to a place where she was not acquainted with anyone. The horrible irony was that she wanted to learn more about herself by moving away from everything and everyone she ever knew. Myra wanted to turn the page to a new, albeit blank, chapter of her life. The blankness of the future pages were both exciting and terrifying. Myra was the type of person that wanted control over everything in her life and this unknown expanse before her was new and exhilarating, but also heart-poundingly horrifying.

Myra had waist long, dark red hair, gangly arms and legs and very thick, "coke bottle" glasses. Myra was never the "cool kid". Myra was in her high school band, and she played the baritone. Myra never made it higher than second chair. Myra often felt like she was alone in the sea of life that was her high school. Myra didn't fit in with the popular kids, but also didn't make the cut for many of the "nerds". Myra was so smart that often she lost patience with other people simply because her mind was always racing ahead faster than those around her. Myra always felt so alone, even amongst those she considered her friends. Many of Myra's high school friends were only "friends". Myra learned through experience that most of the so-called friends only wanted Myra in their midst because Myra was so desperate, she would follow them everywhere. While these people were at least kind enough to allow Myra to be near them, these "friends" would have parties and gatherings which they intentionally left Myra out of. . .many. . .times. Myra was only there to fulfill any hidden agendas this group might have had, which varied quite widely, from Myra giving them her lunch to Myra telling their crush that the group member was "into them". This was usually done in a manner to ridicule Myra and was often a fake crush simply to see if Myra would follow through.

Myra had lived in many places in her childhood as her parents were government officials that would relocate every few years. This resulted in Myra being able to hold conversations with almost anyone, but Myra was never able to establish any long-lasting friendships. At first, this was because Myra moved around so much, but when Myra was firmly planted in the fifth grade, she counted on not being around long and had given up on making friends. Bullies would always find her, though. . . .

In college, Myra met a kindred spirit. His name was Harold. Harold was an equally akward teen, with short dark hair, glasses, and a pocket protector always on hand. Harold was something new to Myra. Harold wanted to be around Myra simply because she was Myra. This was a foreign feeling which Myra was not sure how exactly to deal with. Harold would simply hang out with Myra. . .just to hang out. Harold seemingly didn't have any hidden agenda. Harold just wanted to listen to Myra and be in the same room with Myra.

Myra and Harold decided to join an organization through their college which re-enacted revoluntionary war times. This group was out to educate the public on how the world was during the revolutionary war and they would dress according to the era and they would also use period items and food. This group would hold what they called events throughout the US and was very widespread in how many people were a part of this organization. Myra and Harold made many friends in their time at the university. These people, while not considered necessarily socially "normal", was a place that Myra finally felt like she might fit in.

One day, while Harold was at Myra's apartment, Harold left early because he had to go to class early the next morning. As Harold left, Myra found a little black book that had fallen from Harold's pocket onto her couch. Myra was about to go after Harold, but dropped the book in the act of standing upf rom the couch. The book seemed to fall for several minutes, ,though in reality, it was only seconds. The book lay open with a page that showed Myra's name, underlined twice. This caught Myra's interest. Myra was taught to respect the boundaries of others and she observed Harold jotting notes in this book many times, but had been too polite to ask Harold what was in the book. Now was her chance.

Myra sat looking at the book and wrestling with her inner self. Ultimately, Myra bent down and picked up the book.

What Myra found was not only unexpected but was so hard for Myra, smart, sweet, Myra, to understand, that she sat turning pages in the book and staring at the pages.

Myra eventually decided to try to use her computer to see if she could perform an internet search to determine what she was seeing. She couldn't believe what she read when the search engine gave her the final results.

Harold was a Math major with aspirations to become a Professor in math in the future. Harold had many numbers and strange symbols that even the internet could not interpret. On the very last page, there were 6 numbers followed by a seventh number that was circled in red with the letters PN written next to it. Myra was seeing a mathematical equation and the winning lottery numbers for the last several years were written in this book, alongside the equation.

On the last page, was a new number which had not yet been the winning lottery numbers and written below this was "tell Myra".

Inner turmoil doesn't begin to describe what Myra was feeling. It almost felt like her intestines were being used as a jump rope by the high school students she was once acquainted with. The same feeling she'd felt every time she was left out of another party or gathering. . .

Before Myra could change her mind, she grabbed her car keys and her purse and rushed to the nearest convenience store. There, she bought as many lottery tickets as she could afford and only one had the numbers from the little black book.

Myra found herself back in her apartment before she was aware she'd actually done this. Now, she called Harold.

"Harold, I found your book in my couch. I thought you should know so that you wouldn't think you'd lost it".

"Thank goodness! I've been tearing my apartment asunder for hours looking for it! I will come over now to pick it up."

"Okay. See you soon."

Myra suddenly realized that she needed to hide the tickets. Myra had a locked security box in her room underneath her bed. She ran to put the tickets in the box before Harold came. Then, Myra turned the book upside down and shook out the pages, just in case she'd left any tickets inside.

Harold appeared a few moments later, kindly accepted his book and was on his way.

The following weekend, Myra won the lottery. Myra could not believe her ears. . .she. . won. . the. . .lottery . . How was this even possible? She was overjoyed but also felt enormously guilty. . Should she call Harold? Tell him what she'd done? For once, something great had happened to her, but she also had her first "real" friend. Myra began to feel as though she betrayed Harold and could not decide how best to repair what she had potentially lost.

Myra decided not to call Harold. She turned in the ticket, and was plastered across the front page and the headline of every newspaper, television news show, and social media page of every available outlet. Suddenly, everyone Myra ever knew was calling her asking for money, and some Myra didn't know. Myra was suddenly very popular. . .and had never had more than one true friend. Myra was suddenly overcome with the emotions of the situation. She turned off her cell phone, turned off her computer, locked her door, turned off the lights, and decided to hibernate in her apartment for a few months. . .or years. . .at least she could quit her job at the local burger joint and still pay the bills, but first Myra would need to wait for that first check. . .

That evening, when Harold saw the fame Myra suddenly found, he looked in his little black book to find several long red hairs.

One Year Later

Myra was at her new house, a small cottage in the middle of nowhere. She lovingly called it "nowheresville".

Myra had dropped out of college, quit her job, and purchased a modest cottage which she enthusiastically decorated. Myra still had no true friends. . .Harold would not return her calls and she'd given up on making any new friends. . . . ever.

The romantic scene was something Myra was never really interested in, so she didn't really try. Every relative Myra had tried to set her up with someone, but Myra never met anyone that truly cared about her. Myra also had little patience for the slow thinking of the people around her, and then decided it was probably for the best that she was all alone. . .with her calico cat, named Sugar.

Myra had put the savings from every check she received from the lottery into her bank and let it accrue interest. Myra didn't have to work, and often felt lonely walking around her small cottage, but she did have her books for company.

One day, the phone rang, so Myra answered it to hear Harold's voice.

"Hi Myra, I hope you are well."

"Hi Harold, I am. . .thank you for asking. I haven't heard from you for a very long time."

"I know. I've been thinking. It is a long process, you know."

"I understand. What did you decide?"

"I decided to forgive you."

"Forgive me? For what?"

"Stealing. You stole my formula. You won the lottery. But I forgive you. I was going to tell you the numbers anyway. I was just afraid you wouldn't like me anymore. . ."

"I'm so sorry, Harold." Myra was crying now. "I am so sorry. Thank you for forgiving me. Can we meet somewhere? I'd love to see you."

"I'm sorry, Myra, but that just won't be possible. I've moved on. I just wanted to speak with you one last time. Thank you for being my friend."

"What do you mean? Harold, are you okay? What can I do to help? Harold?" Myra was screaming to the tone that told her the line had disconnected.

The next day, Myra was surfing the internet to find an obituary for Harold Stinborger, dated from one year earlier. The cause of death was not listed in the obituary.

Myra sat staring at her cold, emotionless computer screen, and sobbed for the only friend she'd ever had. Sugar sat in Myra's lap trying to comfort her person to no avail. Myra could not forgive herself for what she'd done to Harold.

The next day, Myra searched the internet frantically for Harold's next of kin to find out what happened to Harold. She finally found someone with the same last name on social media. Myra sent the woman a message through the social media platform, knowing it was a long shot as the person lived very far away.

The woman answered. Her name was Sadie and she was Harold's younger sister. Sadie told Myra that Harold was diagnosed with terminal cancer a few months before Myra and Harold met and that he had finally succumbed to the cancer. Sadie told Myra that Harold had nothing but warm and friendly things to say about Myra. Sadie was surprised, as Harold never had any friends before Myra. Sadie thanked Myra for giving Harold the friendship he'd longed for and being the friend that no one else had been.

Myra sat at her keyboard completely stunned. Then Myra began to cry. Myra wailed like no banshee had wailed before. Myra worried that Harold's final thoughts were that Myra, his only friend, had betrayed him for the money Myra now possessed. Myra sobbed when she thought about the sheer unfairness that Harold had endured.

Then the phone rang.

Myra stared at the phone. . .then she picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hi Myra, this is Harold. I just wanted to say thank you."

"Thank you? Harold, I don't understand. . ." Myra choked the sob down her throat.

"I wanted you to have the money. I knew I was dying. Thank you for being my only friend. I hope you will find another one now that I've left. Thank you."

The phone line went dead. . . .

The next morning, the little black book was on Myra's couch again. The page with Myra's name was opened. Myra turned the page to see a heart with her name and Harold's intertwined.