Weeks of Good Deeds

Carly passed McMansion after McMansion looking for the perfect chair.

She just needed one. Or a coffee table. Or anything that could be rescued with a coat of paint. Then she could make enough money to feed the guinea pigs for a few more weeks. The contributions of wilted lettuce and droopy carrots from the grocery clerk, Ron, were enough to get by, but the guinea pigs vacuumed salads like fully-charged Roombas.

Piles of pristine “garbage” dotted each identically tidy yard. The sun was setting, and she had to hurry. Otherwise, she’d be once again escorted through gates by a large, but somehow not intimidating, man in a golf cart.

Then she saw it…

The perfect pile.

Overjoyed, Carly gathered everything she could—crates of records, books, pens, and unused notebooks. One notebook stood out in quality. Its black cover and small size made it seem special, and feel professional in her hands.

She looked at the house it belonged to. Towering in pink stucco, it stood out, yet blended in. The windows were lifeless and black. No cars were on the driveway. Everything seemed untouched. Did anyone live there?

Eventually, she saw the for sale sign. It was buried behind the stacks of boxes, crates, and bags, barricaded by fancy furniture. Who wouldn’t donate these things?

To Carly’s disappointment, there were no chairs, but there was a desk—one she couldn’t keep her eyes off of.

It appeared so professional. She imagined putting things in its drawers, sitting at it, and organizing her day, but professionally instead of scribbling in spiral notebooks scattered throughout Mimi’s house. It had to come home with her.

Unsurprisingly, it didn’t fit in Mimi’s Buick. In fact, it seemed to grow the more Carly shoved. Thankfully a man passing by in his lawn company truck was able to help. He admired her determination and was no stranger to gated neighborhood freebies.

He helped Carly carry the desk through the halls of her grandma, Mimi’s house. The floorboards dipped a little with each step. Floral wallpaper lined walls and doilies graced tables.

They placed it in the spare room—or guinea pig room, rather.

The man knelt down to get a look at the guinea pigs, their muffled squeaks increased with his attention.

“My daughter has always wanted one of these,” He said.

Carly was beaming. This was her moment.

“You should bring her by! They're all up for adoption! Well.. accept Beebers.”

“Beebers?”

She pointed to the tubbier guinea pig with wiry hair and bulgy eyes.

There was no worry of Beebers being adopted.

“Oh… Of course.”

“Let me give you my contact info!” Carly’s voice was often loud with excitement.

She rummaged through her newest possessions, picking up the black notebook. It felt morally wrong to desecrate it, but these were desperate times. She recoiled as she tore out a page to scribble in swirly letters.

“Carly?”

“Yes! With Rescue Piggies!”

“Great. I’m Mike. I’ll give you a call.”

After sharing TV dinners with Mimi and watching the latest soap opera, Carly revisited the desk. She had a lot to do tomorrow. Her friend Josie needed a get-well card, and cookies, and maybe flowers? The guineas needed their cages cleaned, and she promised her neighbor, Mr. Stevens, that she’d check the mail while he was on vacation.

This time she could map out her day like a secretary. The days of forgotten plans were behind her. The new Carly would be more productive and organized!

She found the key for the bottom drawer. While opening it, She wondered what kind of things other people locked in drawers. Her thoughts came to an abrupt halt as she peered inside.

Two stacks of cash looked back at her.

Twenty Thousand Dollars?!

She froze. Her eyes grew large as she reached for it, then stopped. Should she touch it? No. Yes. Maybe.

This didn’t seem right. Someone was missing it. Someone, somewhere, was panicking, pacing in circles, and probably crying. How could someone misplace so much money?!

She closed the drawer, sat for a moment, then reopened it, expecting to wake from a dream or have the cash disappear. Neither happened and the money continued to stare at her, awaiting action.

Her heart pounded. Was this how thieves felt? Do they feel guilt?

She thought about going back that night but remembered the golf cart guy. He was starting to know her by name. She waited until morning.

The next day the pile was gone, along with the for sale sign. She checked windows, the backyard, and asked neighbors if they knew who lived in the pink house. Few answered their doors, and the ones who did were unfriendly. No one seemed to know who had lived there, just that they had left quickly.

Carly tried for days. Then for weeks. Then left a note on the door and waited weeks longer.

No luck.

She thought about it a lot. That much money could do so much good. It could help so many. Maybe this was her chance to do good things. She could repay Ron, and Mike the lawn guy, and maybe even help Josie with her brother’s medical bills. Maybe there was a reason she found it. Maybe the universe wanted her to help people.

That’s what Carly did. She helped people.

Each night she planned who she would give money to, keeping an ongoing list in her trusty black book. She never included amounts, just what they might need. She expected to have just enough after her good deeds for some guinea pig cages, or food, or maybe a truck. How much did trucks even cost?

The money dwindled quickly, but each time it did, Carly felt great—the best she ever had. Josie cried. Mike ecstatically bought lawn equipment. Ron was finally able to take a vacation, and Mimi got a new TV.

Among the planned gifts, she was also giving spontaneously. She bought coffee for cars behind her, paid for groceries for struggling families in line. Each time she was met with overwhelming gratitude.

Carly was on top of the world.

After weeks of good deeds, she went to count the remaining bills. Her heart sank a little. How had she not noticed there were only two left?

“Looks like we’ll get just one cage, Beebers,” She said solemnly. Beebers’s big-eyed expression remained unchanged. “It’s okay though. They needed it more than we did.”

Her phone rang. The number was unknown. Her squint turned to a smile. Was this it? Was someone wanting a guinea pig?

“Hello?”

“Is this Carly?” The woman sounded nervous, polite, and her voice rattled after decades of smoking cigarettes.

“Yes, this is! Did you want to adopt a guinea pig?”

“A what? No. No, this is about the note. I got your note. About the desk? With the money in it?”

A lump grew in Carly’s throat, her face flushed as her heart began to pound. Her normally boisterous voice grew meek. “…the money?”

“Yes! I’ve been looking all over for it! The new owners of the home read your note and got a hold of me. You have no idea how much this means to me. Most people would have just spent it!”

“Oh… That note,” She forced the words.

“Yes! I had been out of town so it took them a while to reach me. You are an absolute angel!”

Carly froze. “I have to go.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Carly hung up and began to pace the room, her breathing frantic and shallow.

The same number rang over and over. Carly collapsed at the once-beloved desk, now cursed, and stared at it, her leg shaking uncontrollably.

If only she could go back. She would have never opened the drawer, or taken the money out, or taken the desk at all. She’s not professional, what was she thinking? Why would she think it was her job to do good deeds?

Her palms sweat with each ring. She couldn’t live with it. The weight was unbearable.

“Hello…” Carly’s voice cracked.

“Yes! Hello! Is this Carly? We were disconnected.”

She eked out the words, “Yes, this is her.”

“Oh good! So when can we meet or arrange a transfer?”

Carly tried to swallow. She failed. Her words were broken and shaky, she pushed through.

“I’m so sorry Ma’am. I know I left you the note, but then months had passed and I couldn’t find you—”

“So.. you don’t have the money?” The woman’s tone was unimpressed, unsurprised.

“No, Ma’am… I… I am so sorry.”

There was a pause that felt infinite, followed by a sigh.

“Can you get it back?”

“I… I could talk to Josie, and to Mike… Ron can probably give it back if I explain it…”

Another sigh.

“It sounds like you gave it to a lot of people.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I tried to do good with it. I really didn’t think I would find you. I tried to do the right thing. I can pay you back. It will take a while, but I —”

“No. That’s not necessary,” The woman sighed in defeat.

For the first time, the knot in Carly’s stomach dissipated—just a little.

“It’s not your fault. You sound like a very sweet girl. Most people would never write a note at all. As much as I want to be upset, I can’t. You tried to do the right thing. That’s more than most.”

Carly could finally swallow. The weight was lifting. She wiped her sweaty palms on her legs.

“I would like to make it right, Ms…?”

“Linda. You can just call me Linda.”

“I want to make it right, Ms. Linda.”

Another sigh, but a less dreadful one. This one brought relief.

“What was it you asked when I first called? You asked if I was calling about a pig?”

“Yes. A guinea pig.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“You’ve never seen one? I could show you sometime!”

The conversation shifted to a friendly one. Linda told Carly how she downsized to leave the loneliness of her empty house, and how she just moved to a new community for active seniors. Only having her sister in Florida to speak to, Linda found the conversation refreshing. She took Carly up on her offer. She had to see what this “guinea pig” was.

Linda was uncertain about meeting Carly until she was welcomed inside and met the guinea pigs. Their noises amused her. When she cracked a smile, Carly found her opening.

“You can always adopt one!” Carly said enthusiastically.

Linda studied them. She hadn’t expected them to be so… potato-shaped.

“Do they always make that noise?” She asked.

“Pretty much. That’s their happy noise.”

Linda picked up the one with wiry hair and bulgy eyes. Her smile widened, in a way it hadn’t in years. “I like this one.”

“Oh, not that one, though! That’s Beebers. The rest of them are up for adoption.”

Linda understood and picked another. This time, a fluffy piebald.

“You know,” Linda said, “They don’t let us have dogs at my new building. This might just work.” She looked at Carly, “I would like this one. I think I’ll name him George.”

Carly tried to contain her excitement but failed. She put together the faded paperwork that had been awaiting its moment. It included instructions for George’s care.

Linda’s neighbors fell in love with George. Not only did he allow her to make several friends, but it wasn’t long before they were contacting Carly for guinea pigs of their own.

Carly no longer needed more cages. The wilted salads were distributed throughout the community, and anytime a distracted eight-year-old was forced to revoke their pet parenthood, Carly consulted the list of eager seniors in her black notebook.

She was once again on top of the world.