727

It was the ninth month Pete was out of work. The Covid-19 pandemic changed the world as he and everyone else knew it. At first it felt like a giant, old-fashioned two week snow day. "This could be fun!" Pete, known as Mr. Pete amongst those who knew him called him. He was always the positive, glass half full type of guy. The guy everyone wanted to be around. He was a neighborhood favorite to run into and pick up anyones day. With his pale, blue eyes and a smile that charmed the good mood out of anyone.  A smile that had become forced and hidden regardless under the mandatory mask he and everyone else now wore as standard as shoes.

Mr. Pete wasn't by any means an extravagant man.  He found pleasure in the simple things in life. Going to a movie. Visiting his local diner.  Grabbing a beer at his local pub while listening to the pianist.  Gone were the movie theaters, pubs, and restaurants. But his favorite of all was his long-time family favorite bakery.  While he looked forward to the chinwag that came with this one of a kind mom and pop store, the family of many generations always lit up when he entered. He was more than a customer. The smiles were genuine and always came with hugs as if they hadn't seen each other in years though it was their Sunday ritual. They were always ready with open arms with his favorite jelly donut nana made. Not one opportunity was missed for them to insist on making up a goodie bag on the house. They sat around together drinking endless cups of Joe shooting the breeze. They shared 35 years of memories together, the happy and the sad. There were weddings and babies, there were illnesses and funerals. He was Petey to family and his family was no longer with him, but he had them. And they had him. Their big weekly argument was Petey insisted on paying for at least something. They seemed genuinely insulted when he took out his cash. Their voices were louder and more passionate than most. "How dare you offer us your money!!" He would run up to their tip jar, drop something generous in there, wink before getting out quickly with his fresh baked treats that were made with love. Then pick up this priceless ritual next Sunday.

"OUT OF BUSINESS" said the sign on his bakery now.  He avoided that block completely now. It hurt his heart.

He walked amongst the robotic faces in the grocery store for staples. Gone was the human connection that sprinkled the neighborhood in what seemed like seconds ago. There was nothing but fellow masked people who seemed to be in a constant state of hurry and discomfort.  Expressions became the same over time passed. Faces became vacant of human emotion and the small acts of human decency like holding the door open for the person behind you got replaced with rushing to the elevator hoping to get in alone. Spirits were broken and void of emotion. Mr. Pete played the game. What choice did he have?  His mission seemed easy anyway: Get in and get out. No browsing. Why salivate??

He got to the register. His pasta and milk was paid for with loose change. He kept his usual full of life head down. When he heard a voice:  "Excuse me!!! Sir??!"  He looked around. It was a petite, dark haired girl that was long and straight. She stood all of five feet. With her face serious and her tone congenial she asked, "Do you remember me??" Keeping their mandatory six foot distance, he got the feeling his answer would be disappointing, albeit truthful. "I'm sorry young lady, I don't believe I do." But she had something to say and it seemed to him his answer was moot.  She went on with her story. Regardless of  reading his body language that signaled he was ready to move on after wishing her a good day with the standard, "Stay safe" which replaced the "How are you" in small talk. 

But the girl didn't miss a beat. She spoke without taking breaths as if to rush out this story. No pauses, no waiting for him to interject with questions. It could have been a fifteen minute soliloquy but she blurted it out in what seemed like seconds. "About seven years ago my parents and I moved into the building. They are both immigrants who don't speak english very well. The job my dad was promised fell through. He was counting on this with hopes of providing for his family both here and at home. It was a dark time. It was clear the way the girls words poured out that she had been waiting to say them aloud for a while. Everyone in the building was kind. They took up a collection for us. We got donations of canned goods, laundry soap, some people brought leftovers. "Well, how nice...." Mr. Pete tried to intervene as she quickly cut him off........"NO!!!" Now she shouted. "You DIDN'T!" Now Mr. Pete became embarrassed. He wondered if he was the one person who contributed nothing. There was no hiding the redness of his cheeks, even through the mask. She continued as if no one could stop her because they couldn't. "YOU got him a JOB!! You changed our lives. As well as saved them." My family was so overcome with gratitude he didn't know how to thank you. My dad knocked on your door. You were nonchalant about it all. And he said was he'll never forgot your words: "No problem. That's what neighbors do."

There was finally a pause. A silent and genuine moment between the two without the rushing of her speech. She continued, but finally slowed down. Seemingly to finally be at the end of her story. "My dad passed on since then." Once again he tried to interrupt with his sincere condolences. And once again, she cut him off. She sanitized her hands. Again. And then reached into her purse to pull out a weathered LITTLE BLACK BOOK. The book was tiny and looked as if it was in there for awhile..A bit tattered and included was some lint and a gum wrapper that hung to it. ”This is for you sir. Thanks again. Stay safe and be well." And as quickly as she appeared was as quickly as she left. Seemingly to skip as though some big mission of hers was finally accomplished. And it was.

There was no chance Mr. Pete could wait to open the leather bound book before he got out of the grocery store. His curiosity was as deep as his nerves. In it the words were written big and minimally. The first page was just an address. And it read: "PLEASE GO HERE." Mr. Pete found himself heading there while his stomach did butterfly flips. It was as if his legs just moved in that direction on their own. He certainly didn't have anything else to do.

He got to the address. It was a gym. A closed gym, like all of them were. No one would think to enter as no one would think it would be open. All signs read: “Temporarily closed.” But he pushed the door and he was surprised to find it opened. He turned to the next page in his gift that was this little black book. 

It read: 727.

It was dark and creepy. But with that came a sense of excitement Mr. Pete hadn't felt in nine months. He used his phone light to navigate the stairs. It was only one flight down but it felt like an eternity. Once in the basement he was surrounded by lockers with a mouse that scurried seeing the first light it had seen in who knows how long. He knew what he was looking for. There wasn't anymore directions. 

He found it. SEVEN TWO SEVEN. That was the locker number.

Inside was a shoebox. It was worn and tattered. Something that clearly by the looks of it had nothing of value. Or perhaps that was the point. It was disguised that way.

Mr. Pete opened the shoebox.

It was CASH. CASH!! $20,000 to be exact. And a handwritten note. Short and sweet. Two words: "Thank you."

He stood in shock, beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. It sank deeper when he found himself with the first genuine smile that hadn't made it's way around in what seemed like ages.

But before he left he instinctively went to close the locker as to return it how he found it. Though, he wondered why, as all that was left down there was the mouse and his friends.. As the door clicked, he pulled back on the latch to relock it.

He pulled on it.

It was never locked..........

Petey had one and only one destination next. His feet moved swiftly towards that heartwarming route he took every Sunday when life was full of life.

For the first time in ages, his feet moved towards his bakery.

Athena Lee