Twenty

“Hey, man, can I bum a sawbuck?” Virgil heard the passenger ask again, a little louder. Looking in the rear view mirror, Virgil saw the passenger wouldn’t maintain eye contact and looked dreadful.

Finally, Virgil replied, “Let’s just get you to your destination first, then I can worry about how much a saw… uh, that, is.”

“Saw. Buck. It’s just ten, half a twenty. Dollars, that is.” The passenger continued, “They used to say it a few decades ago and I think it’s neat.”

“Interesting. I only have a twenty, but maybe you could get me something if we stop somewhere?” Virgil asked as the light finally turned green.

“Of course! I just want a pack of smokes and a drink,” the passenger exclaimed.

“Oh, what’s your poison?” Virgil wondered out loud.

“Coke. That old battery acid taste takes me back.” The passenger smiled and looked out the driver side window at a passing vehicle. “Were you thinking I meant booze? I’m on the way to recovery, sir.”

Virgil smiled. “Apologies, I figured alcohol since that’s why I’m taking you where you’re going.”

“I’m just yankin’ your chain, boss. I’m fairly certain I’ll never get zozzled again.” The passenger looked down, longingly. “Do you partake?”

“In the drink? No, I abstain. Nowadays, I prefer a clear head.” Virgil resisted the urge to reminisce. “Would this gas station work? We need to fill up anyway,” asked Virgil as he turned into the Fill N’ Flee.

“Oh, fountain soda is even better. Hey, and this way at least somethin’ gets gassed.” The passenger laughed at the joke. “What did you want me to grab you, pal?”

Virgil opened up his wallet for the bill and handed it to the passenger. “Just some cinnamon gum and a bottle of Cherry Coke. Well…make that two bottles. Thank you much.”

Taking the legal tender, the passenger looked in Virgil’s eyes and said, “No, sir, I thank you. You are a kind soul. Red gum and red Cokes. Don’t tell me your favorite color’s red? It’s my second favorite.”

Virgil itched his temple and smiled. “Actually it’s not red, it’s purple. Oh, and a scratcher, please”

“Got it. Back in a jiff.” The passenger went in the store and Virgil swiped his company card at the pump to fill up the tank.

Waiting outside the car, Virgil pulled a black notebook out of his inside jacket pocket and moved the bookmark to get to a fresh page. He wrote at the top of a page, then looked at the pump and wrote a little bit more. The pump clacked off and he pocketed the little diary, put the pump away, turned the gas cap until there were three clicks and squeezed back into the car.

Virgil watched the passenger checking out, all smiles with the clerk. Turning to go, the passenger dropped the smokes and laughed; picked them up and said thanks. After holding the door for an entering family, the passenger jogged over to the car, hurdling a pothole, and waving at a slowed truck. The passenger got in the car.

“Oh, did you need a lighter?” Virgil asked.

The passenger patted the jacket pockets. “Uh, yeah, whoops, I guess I should…ah, I’m just joshing ya, I got a pack of matches. Can I smoke in the car or should I take it outside for a moment?”

“Outside, if you would. I’ll work on this scratch ticket in the meantime,” Virgil suggested as he reached for his items.

“No problem there. Thanks again, I’ll be just a few. “ The passenger handed the gum, ticket, and drinks over, then opened the door.

As the passenger got out Virgil found a nickle in the ashtray. Virgil blew the silvery substance away as he scratched at it. This particular ticket was new to him and he wasn’t quite sure how it worked. He assumed he looked as an archeologist would have if they had found some ancient artifact in the ditch of a modern highway. It finally clicked, he sharply inhaled and yelped, “We won!” as he lowered the rear passenger window halfway.

“Great, how much?” the passenger asked while holding the cancer stick on the roof to prevent it from contaminating the vehicle.

“Twenty bucks! That almost covers what I just spent; except for however much the ticket was,” Virgil answered. The passenger finished the nasty habit, threw it down, stepped on it and got back into the car. Virgil noted, “Good work picking out the right one.”

The passenger smirked. “Oh, the cashier picked out a five dollar one; she said they had a higher percentage of winning.”

Looking in the rear view mirror, Virgil corrected himself and asked, “Then good choice in cashier. Say, would you mind running back in to cash this thing? Oh, and could you please pick up that cigarette butt and throw it in the trash? I like to think it’s the little things that matter.”

“Most certainly.” The passenger opened the door, bending over to get the butt before taking the ticket back from Virgil; then exited the car and went back in to cash it. Upon returning the passenger closed the door, handed over the twenty and asked, “Would you be so kind to let me keep the other change?”

“Sure, I’d bet they have a drink machine there,” Virgil agreed looking at the road. “Well, should we finish this journey?”

The passenger sniffed nervously and said, “More like I finish this act of my life and begin a new one. Yes please, let’s get back to it.”

Virgil took to the road and got them to their destination with no incidents. Driver and passenger were both comfortably quiet. After pulling up in the half circle and stopping at the door the passenger finally broke the silence with: “Thank you again. This encounter starts me off with a positive look at a stranger and I think that will really help me with my new journey.”

Virgil looked down for a split second, then turned around to face the passenger, “Mostly, I’m just making up for my past transgressions. I am glad to help you get here and know you can improve yourself for you and anyone in your life. Past, present, and future.”

The passenger took a moment, tears forming, lips thinning, then looked up into Virgil’s eyes and said, “I can do this.” Scratching and rubbing. “I will get this done and go back to life. Thank you oh so very much.”

Virgil must have had something in his eyes, so he rubbed at them and said, “Of course you are most welcome. I will help again when someone needs it. Thank you for choosing the right path. Have a good night and you don’t need to be wished good luck.” Virgil extended his hand and they shook.

The passenger nodded. “Good luck and good life.” Grabbing a bag, the passenger left the car and headed through the big doors of the facility not looking back.

Virgil drove out of the half circle and parked. He took a moment, breathed, smiled, then looked in the mirror at himself for a beat. Exhaling, he pulled off and headed back home.

His return home was welcomed with good news. “You wouldn’t believe what was in the mail today, love,” his significant other sang as he emptied his pockets putting his wallet, phone, and keys on top of the black notebook. “Aunt Patricia left you a nice sum of change.”

Virgil’s eyebrows split, one up, one down. “Aunt who? I don’t have an aunt. Lemme see that letter.” Virgil went into the kitchen and read the mail for himself. “Well isn’t that splendid? A sawbuck short of twenty grand.”

“A what?"