Uncle Arthur's Gift

“Illegal Immigrants, the Blacks, the LGTBQ+, or whatever they call themselves. They will be the death of this country.” Jamie said to the lawyer. Memories rekindled a certain anger in his eye. “I had finally found the courage. A bravery I didn’t know I had, to tell him about my real self, and that’s what my Uncle told me.” Jamie closed his eyes, pushing a tear out. “That’s the last time I seen him, sitting there on that park bench. I ran away that night. I went to the train station and bought the first ticket out of town.”

The lawyer looked uncomfortable. Tall and slender, he was built like a human cigarette. He tugged at his collared shirt and spoke. “He loved puzzles and hated people that were different from him. He was an odd man, very eccentric. If he had been normal, he probably would have lived his life poor.” They both formed a nervous smile.

The lawyer unbuckled the gold clasp on his briefcase and produced a little black book. It was inside a plastic bag that bared a seal with his Uncle’s signature. The lawyer explained, “he willed this book to you. Its more than what his kids are getting.” The lawyer unprofessionally told Jamie. “After his wife passed, over the last year he spent his fortune on god knows what. He was poor at his death, millions gone.”

Jamie threw the book down on a stack of papers, knocking a letter from the bank to the floor. The lawyer bent down for it and placed it on the table. “I’m sorry I can’t help in this matter. If the bank doesn’t get their twenty thousand dollars, they will take the house.”

“Thanks anyway, its due by March 2, 2021 before midnight. Plain and simple, I don’t have it.” Jamie said. The lawyer nodded, stood tall and stretched a little. “He did love you, ya know?” Jamie glared at him. “I’ll believe that when pigs fly… backwards.” He straightened his jacket and fedora. On his way out the door he shook Jamie’s hand and bid him farewell.

Jamie sat in his chair. His attention turned to the book. A kitchen knife split the seal and he removed it from the bag. It was small and the years had turned it black. The supple leather was smooth and had been stitched together from a few small hides, maybe moleskin he thought. Many pages had been tore out. The binding still held strong. He opened it and touched the first page. He noticed the dry ink had absorbed well and didn’t smear or bleed. He began to read out loud, to himself.

“Dear Jamie,

I am so sorry. For so long I hated people who were different from me. If the world had my influence, large groups of people would have been casted to the fringe of society, left alone and with their own despair. Since my wife passed, I have known this misery firsthand. I vowed to stop as much of it as I could. I have secretly donated my life’s fortune to people in need. People that are quite different from me. It has filled fissures of hate in my heart and has given me a warm love only paralleled by your Aunts. This is a gift I wanted to pass on to you. In the book, are the locations of three bags of money, each containing twenty thousand dollars. The book also contains the names of three people. I have known them for a while, and they are worthy of this donation. Find them and donate the money to their cause. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.

With kind regards and acceptance,

Your Uncle Arthur.”

Jamie felt his hatred leave him, like shattered ice has left an eves trough, on the first warm spring day. He was so excited he forgot his own problems. He grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and glanced out the window. Dark clouds had been brewing and lingering, spiting and sputtering rain and ice over the city. He grabbed his jacket and was off.

The book sent him around town, on a scavenger hunt. Some clues came to him quickly, others he had to mull over. The puzzles were easy enough. He had always enjoyed them. It was one of the things he and Uncle Arthur had in common. The first bag he found was buried behind the park bench, the second was in a locker at the train station, and the third was in front of the local church.

Jamie walked through a permanent nativity scene and found the bag in baby Jesus’s crib. He knew the lady who ran the church, but now wasn’t the time to break their long-standing silence. He had run from her once. Not too long ago, he found the religious life wasn’t for him and hadn’t spoken to her since. Talking to her… that would be too much for him right now.

He took all three bags home, sixty thousand dollars in cash. His need for this money was great and from what he could tell, Uncle Arthur had left him nothing. Why not keep this money? Who would know? Why did these people deserve it more than him? He bitterly reached down and grabbed five thousand dollars. He fanned the crisp bills through his fingers. He brought the money to his face and smelled that unmistakable odor. Greed expanded from the primitive part of his brain. Just then it was almost as if Arthur shook these thoughts out of him. He felt content and let Arthur's hand guide him to Maria Hernandez’s house. He would meet her and decide for himself if she was “worthy” of the money.

He hid the money in the bushes and knocked. To Jamie’s surprise, the lawyer answered the door. “Is Maria home?” “Yes, my mother is here.” The lawyer said. “I didn’t know she was your mother.” Jamie replied. They greeted and discussed the irony of the situation and the lawyer introduced Jamie to his mother. Jamie told the story of his Uncle Arthur, the book, and the money. He tried to subtly make it known he did not have the money on him. Mrs. Hernandez didn’t care. She told the story of coming to America. Her struggle since she got here. The founding of her charitable organization. They help immigrants who received citizenship settle into their new lives, through job training, and finding a home. Mrs. Hernandez lived more for others than herself. In the moment it was an easy choice for him. Jamie stepped outside and picked up the bag. Mrs. Hernandez kindly accepted the donation and invited Jamie to come see how they would put the money to good use.

The second bag of money kept whispering in his ear and tugging at his shoulder, tempting him. He swallowed his selfish hunger and carried out his Uncles wishes. He gave it to an elderly black woman named Regina Watkins over coffee. Regina had recruited four of her friends and ran a free of charge tutoring program for black youth in the inner city. The first year they raised the graduation rate thirty-five percent. She doted on him so many “sugas,” and “honies,” he might have needed an insulin shot. She rejoiced at what they could do with twenty thousand dollars. Jamie couldn’t tell if it was the coffee, Regina’s company, or the donation. He was floating on a natural high when he left that coffee shop.

He recognized the third person’s name, Gayle Kaine. She founded that familiar church with the permanent nativity scene. Mrs. Kaine also operated an underground railroad for the LGBTQ+ community, with nowhere else to turn. Long ago he confided in her. He bled his darkest secrets to a woman he didn’t even know at a train station. She had convinced him to stay.

He was nervous about seeing her again. He bit his lip and went in anyway. “Miss Jamie, it’s so good to see you!” She proclaimed as she went in for a hug. “It’s Mr. Jamie now. I finally stopped lying to the world about who I am.” “But more importantly, you stopped lying to yourself.” She said holding his shoulders. They had a good cry and when he told his story and gave her the twenty thousand dollars. They cried again.

Jamie headed home. He regretted giving all that money away. The cost of keeping it would have been his peace of mind. It wasn’t his in the first place. So, he let that desire go.

His thoughts kept drifting back to Mrs. Kaine. How nervous he was seeing her in the church the first time. He knew the church and the people born like him had never got along.

But Mrs. Kaine never even mentioned it. She took him in after he ran away from his Uncle. She loved him and took care of him and helped him finish school without ever really knowing him. Finally, one day, he asked her about it. “Because Jesus didn’t stutter. He said love everybody as I have loved you.” She smiled, warming him. “He doesn’t care about that stuff. He only cares about how we treat each other.” Jamie didn’t know if he believed. Now or if he ever had. But he believed in Mrs. Kaine and he believed in being good to people. And as Mrs. Kaine had taught him, that was enough.

A few days had gone by since his initial visit with the lawyer. Jamie felt warm and lively. He felt happy and content for the first time since he admitted to himself who he was. He turned the corner of the block he lived on. There was a squad car in the driveway. That good feeling left him. Stranded in the middle of the ocean, his life raft instantly lost buoyancy. He had forgot about the eviction. He was past the due date.

The sheriff was nice to him, but firm. He had a job to do. Before he locked Jamie out, under supervision, he allowed him to collect a single bag of personal items. All he packed was clothes, the moleskin book, and an expired train ticket. Jamie sat on the front porch, his eyes welling up. Scared of uncertainty. Where would he go? To sleep on the park bench, maybe? Loiter at the train station? Return to Mrs. Kaine more than likely. Just then a white mini van parked in front of the house. The lawyer was driving. A parade of people followed him up to Jamie and the Sheriff, which included Maria Hernandez, Regina Watkins, and Gayle Kaine.

“That won’t be necessary officer.” The lawyer proclaimed. He handed Jamie a statement from the bank. Account balance paid in full. “How did this…” Jamie muttered, handing the statement to the officer. “I’m sorry Jamie, but I disclosed your financial information to my mother, and we wanted to help. We reached out to Mrs. Watkins and Mrs. Kaine and together we dug into our savings and paid the bank the twenty thousand dollars you owed.” Jamie broke down. They hugged and kissed and showed their affection, mixed with laughs and tears. They were all different people, with different backgrounds, but they were all bound together by a desire to be good to each other.

After everyone left. Jamie sat back down on the porch, feeling safe and secure. As having a steady place to live will provide someone. He also felt complete, content and accepted in the world. A gift from his Uncle Arthur. He looked up to clear blue skies with only hints of white wisping clouds. The world showered him with rays of bright sunshine that kissed his cheeks with love. “Thank you, Uncle.” A tear rolled down his cheek and changed its path when it met a big raw smile. “I forgive you.”