The Little Black Book

“Melvin take out the trash!” a sigh escaped my lips as I rose from the dishwashing area. I removed my gloves, and another bag of trash came flying through the diner door. Tonight was a little colder than usual but not unusual for a late fall in Vegas. I left my Jacket behind as I walked out the door.

As I approached the dumpster there was a homeless guy nearby. At Bees restaurant, the manager was infamous for throwing out food that didn’t sell for the day. Sometimes he’d do it in the face of the less fortunate and snarl at whoever was watching. He even made it protocol that we do the same. I didn’t agree but those were the rules I had to follow. He approached me, stopping my stride.

“Hey man, I know you’re only doing your job, but can you please help me out? I'm just trying to feed my family.” A woman and three small girls emerged from the side of the alleyway. Normally I follow the rules, but this time was different. I’d rather hand it to the man than allow him to go dumpster diving for a half-decent meal. I extended the bag that I knew had leftovers inside.

“Whoa! Not so fast!” Bernie said grabbing the homeless guy by the arm. “What’s in the bag? Are you stealing from us? Check it out Mel, he’s stealing our trash. I don’t like thieves.”

Bernie grabbed the guy by his shirt and cocked his fist back ready to strike.

“Leave him alone!” I mustered enough courage to say.

Bernie glanced back, “You’re siding with a thief?”

“He’s just trying to feed his family!” I said in a loud uncontrollable blurt of words.

That seemed to get his attention because he released the homeless guy and headed straight toward me. The man retreated as Bernie got into my face and pushed me. As I fell to the ground he taunted “What are you going to do, huh?” Then came a solid kick right into my gut.

The homeless man grabbed the bag and ran.

I wailed as he was readying for another kick. This time I saw something on the ground next to me. When I was finally able to focus, I saw Bernie take cover. The family threw the food from the bag I gave them! “Get out of here bully!” one of the little girls screamed.

Bernie retreated to the diner. “You're going to be fired for this.” he spat as he ran inside.

“You okay?” the homeless man asked, kneeling by my side. “I’ll be fine thanks to your family's attack, thank you. Are you guys going to have enough to eat?” He looked over at his girls, “we’ve survived off less. I don’t have much but I want to give you something”.

He reached into his pocket and presented a little black notebook. “I couldn't,” I said.

“I insist, you’ve helped my family so much. There’s something about this thing. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It hasn’t spoken to me in some time. I guess I wore out my welcome. Maybe it’ll be of some help to you.”

The man placed it into my hands, got up to his feet, and off to his girls. “Thank you mister!” sang through the air as the family walked through the parking lot.

I finally decided to get up, placed the notebook into my pocket passively, and tried to dust the shoe print off my shirt.

I walked into the kitchen, “Are you kidding me? Going against my rules to feed some bums? Again?” Big B fussed. “You’re done here.”

“Mr. B, I just….”

He cut me off, “Done! Not only did you feed those bums my food but they used it against my nephew! Now get out!”

Head hung low in defeat, I made my way toward the door. On the way out there’s Bernie with the biggest smirk on his face. I did what I felt was the right thing, but somehow I felt he won.

Walking back home was the worst; my head was spinning. I know it was the right thing to do, but it was the wrong thing? Should I not care for others as much? Stay out of other business? Was the kick not enough of punishment? The whole ordeal was unfair. Now my stomach is bruised, and I don’t have a job. I just want the day to be over. A hot shower and relaxation were calling my name. As soon as I opened the door I couldn’t close it fast enough. “Well, well, well if it isn’t Mr. Unemployed. Tell me, was helping those bums worth your paycheck?” my dad spat. “You know I don’t get it. You had one job to not feed those folks and now you have no job.”

“It was the right thing to do,” I muttered.

“You hear that Trudie? He thinks it was the right thing to do!” dad yelled to the next room. My mom bound around the corner.

“The right thing?” she snorted. “Well rent’s due in two days, we have past due bills, and one less income. So, what's the plan Mr. Right thing?”

“I paid the rent so that gives me a couple of weeks to find a job, and the light bill is taken care of in full,” I said proudly.

“Who told you to pay the light bill? There he is again Trudie always in someone's business. I'm not man enough to pay…”

“Stop Oscar. Since he has everything under control we have money for bingo tonight. That’ll give him time to find a job or pray to his rocks or whatever he does. Let's get ready.” In a flash, they were out of the kitchen. I grabbed a cold drink from the fridge and took down half the bottle with one swallow. Suddenly there was a little tingle in my pocket. I reached into my pocket and the book was there. I forgot about it. Flipping through the book was useless because there was nothing in it. It was a nice book though. Black cardboard cover, thin ivory paper with dotted lines. I’ll use this for my sanctuary. My eyes started getting heavy; I went to my room, got undressed, placed the book on my altar, and headed for the shower.

My parents were gone by the time I got out of the shower. As soon as my head hit the pillow I fell asleep.

A loud thud woke me up. I hopped up and surveyed the closet, underneath the bed, and made sure the window was locked. Everything seemed good. While looking out the window I saw a hue of light coming from my altar. As I approached I noticed the light was pulsing. I grabbed it cautiously because I’m sure notebooks don’t do this. I skimmed through the same blank pages, but something is giving it power. I sat at the edge of the bed staring at the dots.

Did I wake you? appeared on the page.

I was startled; threw the book at the wall and ran out of the room.

I peered through the door. The book was no longer glowing, just laying on the floor. I went to retrieve it and the light shined again. I opened a random page.

Melvin, please don’t throw me again. My name is Moleskine. Hesitantly I said, “What are you?”

I’m history. Moleskine just like myself has been around for centuries. Each of us is uniquely special in our way. My specialty is to make things write, haha that’s a notebook pun, but to make things right.

I scoffed, “Some things can't be fixed, like being misunderstood.”

I understand. What you did today, standing up for that family against your boss’s rules, and from what I've heard that wasn’t your first time doing so. I know about your parents. Handling family matters in silence. Not looking for glory.

“You saw how that went for me.” I sighed

If you could go anywhere, where would it be?

“Are you a genie?” I chuckled. “I’d go to Washington. Somewhere there are four seasons, mountains, and a loving family atmosphere. I want a fresh start.”

Sounds doable. Weirdly that showed up in cursive. Do you have any fruit?

“You eat?” I said exasperatedly.

Yeah, let's eat outside. It’s nice out.

I grabbed my fruit bowl and sat on the patio. Staring blankly into the yard, Moleskine shined to get my attention snapping me back to reality.

What’s on your mind?

“I try so hard. Giving more than I receive and get nothing in return.” I spat with a mouthful of apple.

What do you give to the world?

“Are you not listening? I don’t have much to give but what I have, clearly even to you, isn’t enough.”

No! The font looked erratic. What do you give to the world literally? Do you pick up litter, water grass, or even recycle?

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Sometimes you have to give a little to get a little. Since you didn’t want to share your fruit with me, take the remains and bury them near that rock instead.

I looked down at the bowl and noticed I demolished every piece of fruit. How selfish of me. I decided not to ask questions and got the spade.

I looked back at the book’s pages; spade in hand.

About a foot down.

I gave two swift jabs at the ground with the spade hitting a small satchel-looking thing. Confused, I picked the book up again.

Pull that out, this is where I want the remains to be buried.

I tossed the bag to the side, placed the fruit, and covered the hole.

Now the universe is proud of you.

“What about that bag?”

I went to pick it up. It was a very unique but worn bag. I sat back on the porch looking at Moleskine.

“So, now what?” Moleskine didn’t reply.

I sat for a while staring then noticed the bag again.

“Who do you belong to?” slipped my lips.

I opened it and took a whiff out of curiosity. There was another bag inside. Maybe it hasn’t been here very long. I was anxious to know its secrets.

Instantly I run inside and lock the door. Inside the room, I dumped the contents out of the bag. Two green rectangles each sporting a purple band that read $10,000.

“What am I supposed to do?” is all I could muster, looking at Moleskine’s pages.

Keep it.

“I can’t do that! What if it’s stolen? That makes me an accomplice.”

It’s yours, Melvin. You deserve a fair chance in life. Now you have a head start. This is as far as I go with you. You can keep me forever or pass me forward. Either way, I’ll be around. In your pocket or on your heart.

Moleskines’ glow disappeared. The last words stuck to the page as if it was written with a fine-tipped pen.

I sat holding Moleskine in my hand thinking about what the last words meant and feeling warm.

Two days later, I found myself in the back of Bees. He should’ve been here by now. As I was about to walk away there he was looking discouraged. In one swift motion, I pulled an envelope out of my pocket and handed it to him. His eyes lit up.

“Moleskine?” said the homeless man. I shook my head and strolled away.

Bags, wallet, ticket, and now just waiting for the bus to arrive. I was scared of what was to come, but I had to take a chance for a better life with the opportunity I was given.

Moleskine started glowing. I opened the book and words started to appear.

I didn’t expect that out of you. A remarkable act of kindness. Maybe I’ll stick with you a little longer.