Viola’s Pages

The Black Book

“Grand risings, friend!” My best friend, Danielle, barged into my new apartment with two iced coffees in her hands. In my state of exhaustion, I couldn’t decipher whether she was louder than usual, or if it was the emptiness of my new place that made greetings sound much more amplified. From the half empty cup in her hand, I could tell caffeine had made itself comfortable in her system. “Why are you up so early?” I said, still huddled beneath my blankets with sleep clouding my vocals. “Up? Girl, I haven’t even been to sleep.” That caught my attention and forced me to sit up. Before I could even ask, she handed me my coffee and I took a grateful sip. The caffeine combined with the iciness of the drink sharpened my senses well enough to pull the rest of my mind from its nocturnal fog. “I was enraptured by artistic muses that love to come out after dark and feed my need to create.” Then it hit me, “how did you get in here?” She pulled my keys from her back pocket and tossed them at me. “You left those in the door, genius. Luckily, the good people of NOLA are an honest breed. If you did that in New York, your whole place would have ended up on the back of somebody’s pickup truck, never to be seen again.” “I don’t have anything to take.” I knew I couldn’t hide the sadness in my voice. Earlier this year, I had lost everything I owned in a fire in my Manhattan apartment. I was grateful to be alive and took this tragedy as an opportunity to relocate down to Louisiana. Danielle came and sat next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “I don’t want you to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. Get back into your writing and keep making those masterpieces. Publishers are going to be begging you to be on their team when they see how talented you are. And anything you need, I will be here to help you. You’re my sister, Annie, you know that.” There were very few times when Danielle got sentimental, but when she did, it came from her soul. Wiping the tears that were gathering on my cheeks, I asked her what she was working on last night and she jumped back up with the excitement. “I finally finished the mural that I started on the brick wall on my roof!” I could tell she was so proud of her accomplishment and I couldn’t wait to see it. Danielle was a phenomenal artist, the type that would rather spend her days covered in paint, inhaling the overwhelming scent of her latest creation than fill her time with things that didn’t fulfill her. I was the safe friend. A complete 180. Never too daring or brave enough to step out of my own skin. I lived my life up until now dying on the inside, constantly racked with regret and fear that my life would be over before I’ve truly had a chance to live. “Congrats, D!” I threw my arms around her, genuinely happy for my friend. I pulled away from her and asked if she would let me take her to brunch to celebrate. “I have a better idea. Hurry up and get ready so we don’t miss out on the good stuff.” My confusion was definitely written in my expression and before I could get a word out to question or protest, she was pushing me into my bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

I was immediately taken aback by how glorious the weather was when I stepped outside, not too humid with just enough of a breeze to keep the sweat from pooling on your skin. New York weather was never this kind. Danielle drove us through downtown New Orleans in her Jeep with the doors removed. Her music was playing just loud enough to catch the eyes of a car full of men at a stop light waiting on the light to change. Just as the guys in the back asked us where we were going, we had already taken off, laughing so hard it came from the soul. About 7 songs later, we pulled up to an old warehouse with a stage set up in front of it and cars lining every lane in the parking lot. We decided to park on the street and walk the rest of the way. “You know, when you said you had something better in mind, I figured you meant shopping of some kind, not whatever this is.” She looked back at me, “Sis, this is a sort of shopping. It’s a storage auction. You can walk away today with enough furniture to fill up your new home and then some.” I stopped abruptly in my tracks. With slight panic setting in, I expressed to her I couldn’t afford something like this. I barely had enough money for groceries and cleaning supplies after I paid first, last and security. My best friend grabbed my hand and pulled me along with her. “This is my housewarming gift to you. Welcome to NOLA, baby.” I was filled with a rush of love and gratitude for Danielle and my anxiety was pushed aside and curious excitement took its place. We weaved our way through the crowd quickly, making efforts to keep some distance from the other patrons. When we got to the front, there was only one unit left to bid on. The auctioneer was running off the amounts others were bidding, but Danielle kept quiet, letting the gas run out of the other bidders. When it came time to yell “going once, going twice”, Danielle threw her hands up, yelling with full blown confidence “750!” Before I or anyone else could say something else, the auctioneer yelled “sold!”

Danielle and I walked down the long stretch of hallway until we got to my new unit, 1111. I unlocked the padlock that was starting to rust and lifted the door with all my might. What we were greeted with was a bunch old blankets and books and boxes of God knows what. I looked over at Danielle and I both laughed as we started to look through our new 10x20 box of treasure. The owners gave us about twenty minutes to go over our units to decide how much muscle we would need to move out everything. Danielle was already texting her brothers and uncles to let them know they would be needed to help with the move. “Ok, D, we will have to sort all this out when we get it back to my place.” We agreed on the next plan of action and made our way out so I could treat us to brunch like I’d originally planned. Just as I went to turn around, I tripped over a tarp covering something I didn’t notice at first. Danielle helped me up and I reached down to pull the tarp back to see what was underneath. What I saw turned my quick glance into an outright stare. It was a five gallon water jug. But instead of being filled with water, it was filled with change. I tried to move it but it was way too heavy. “Be right back”, Danielle said as she ran out the unit. She came back with a dolly. We slid the jug over enough to fit it on the dolly. We wheeled it out and closed up before heading back to the jeep. With the help of some burly and bearded men leaving the auction, we were set up and on our way to the bank.

“Whoa!” The teller at the bank seemed amazed at the amount of coins we brought in. “This will surely come in handy due to the national shortage. Here you go.” She handed me a pen and form to fill out. She informed us it would be about 2 hours before they would have all the coins counted. With that, Danielle and I headed off to a fabulous brunch in the quarter. We toasted each other with unlimited mimosas and talked at lengths about what we were about to accomplish in our lives. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a lot to look forward to.

It was almost closing time when we got back to the bank. The teller we spoke to earlier was waiting at her desk. She thanked us again for cashing in our coins. I was given the option to go to the counter and get my money in cash or open up an account and place the money in there. I chose the latter. A few minutes of paperwork later and I was all set. I was given a new debit card, checkbook and receipt with the balance written on it next to a smiley face. When I saw the balance, I had a smile on my face too. The balance read $20,042.11. I was almost in tears. Danielle took the papers from my hand and gasped. The tellers wished us a nice night and just as we were about to exit, I heard “excuse me”. The teller was running toward me with a little black book in her hand. “Don’t forget about your diary”, she said, arm extended to hand me the little black book. “It was at the bottom of the jug”, she said kindly. I smiled and placed the book with the rest of my paperwork in my purse. Danielle dropped me off home and nearly pushed me out when I offered to pay her back for the unit she paid for. “Don’t insult me”, she said with all sincerity. I hugged her and told her I would see her tomorrow for the move. I was exhausted even though it was only 7PM. I took a shower and made myself some hot tea before climbing into bed. I already knew I wasn’t going to blow that money on unnecessary things. I planned to see what was in the storage unit I could use and shop for what I needed afterwards. I looked over my empty studio apartment and imagined the possibilities when I noticed the little black book peeking out of my purse. I grabbed it and opened it. It really was a journal. It belonged to a woman named Viola. Pretty name, very much like a southern belle. I stayed up all night reading her words, crying about her struggles and laughing over her triumphs. She expressed how often life kicked her while she was down but she never stayed down long. She always found herself in a better situation in the end. Ms. Viola was certainly a hero to me, simply based on her diary entries. I was so overrun with emotion that I pulled out my laptop and started writing. Pure adrenaline fueled me far into the morning, and before I knew it I was 12 chapters into “Viola”. I knew I wanted to honor her by telling her story and using the money from her old unit to finance the publishing. This was what I needed. Suddenly, this move to NOLA has turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me.

1 year later…

“Cheers!” Danielle, along with a room full of fans, publishers and reporters, applauded as we all gathered to celebrate my 22nd week on the New York Times best seller’s list. “Viola” had been flying off bookstore shelves in record numbers, something I always dreamed of. Looking back on all I’d been through this past year, I knew with a little faith, and a lot of tenacity I could do all things. And with all the things I had ahead of me, I finally had a bravery to face them with my head held high. Just like Viola.