Sabrina Y.
Mondays were always
slow days, especially in the morning. I
was busy placing our new shipment of dolls onto their shelves when I heard a
man walking into the store. He was a man
of business, one of those rich old guys who walked around in a suit all day and
carried around a cane, not because he needed it but because it made him look
wealthy. He was proud of his opulence.
“Good afternoon,
Sir. Welcome to Johnson and Son’s toy store.
Is there anything I could help you find?”
“Yes. I’m looking for a set of Jacks.”
“Let me show you
where they are.”
I walked to the
back of the store where the “classical” toys were
displayed. The man noticed this and
said, “Classical toys, huh? I guess this is where the old geezers like me
shop, right?” He chuckled to himself, and I gave a half-hearted
laugh as well.
I handed him a
little pouch, and inside was a red bouncy ball and 10 silver jacks.
“Here you go, Sir.”
“Thank you, young
man. I look forward to playing this with my grand daughter. You know, the other day I asked her if she
wanted to play Jacks and she had no idea what I was talking about! Then, she
wanted me to play the My Little Pony Rainbow Magic Game with her. I mean, what is that? Why do horses need
rainbow magic anyway?”
I laughed again
then led him to the checkout counter, but even then, he didn’t stop talking.
“So, Johnson and
Son. Would you be ‘and son?’” He asked.
“No sir. ‘and son’ is my friend, Jackson Johnson. He’s on vacation right
now, so he left me in charge since I’m the assistant
manager.”
“I see. You’re a hard worker,”
he said while squinting at my name tag then finished, “yes, a very hard worker, Mr. Daniels.
Only seventeen, and already you are the assistant manager of a fine
establishment. It is quite an
accomplishment.”
“Thank you Sir, I
appreciate it.” (I was nineteen, but I wasn’t about to correct
him. I didn’t think he was interested in my life story.)
I scanned the
little bag of Jacks at the cash register then stated, “Your total for today is $1.07.”
“Yes, Yes.” He responded as he pulled out his wallet. He had a credit card in his hand, but he
decided to put it back into his wallet.
Wrong one, I guess. However,
instead of grabbing a different credit card, he turned his attention towards me
then asked, “Son, how much do you like this job? Honestly.”
“Um, well, I like
it. I like it a lot actually.”
“But would you work
here forever?”
There was a short
pause before I answered, “No.
No, Sir.”
Why was this guy
asking me so many questions? Couldn’t he just give me
the money like any other customer? Yet,
he continued, asking another personal question. The persistence of this
man was unbelievable.
“So, what do you
want to do for a living Mr. Daniels?”
“ I, I’m not exactly sure, Sir.”
“Oh, come on. A young man like you must have some sort of
dream to live for.”
“Well, Sir. . . I
would like to create my own business some day.”
“Good for you, my
boy. So, what’s holding you back?”
Inside my head, I
laughed at this question. Hmm. Let me think for a second. Maybe, just maybe, it had to do with the fact
that I don’t know. . . my dad left me when I was eight, my
mom has been stuck in a state of depression for the past eleven years forcing
me to take care of myself and my younger sister, and (shocker) we’re broke.
I looked up at the
old man and lied, “I love my home town, and I could never
leave it.”
“Mmm, I thought the
same thing when I was younger,” the man said and
then dropped a handful of change onto the counter. No, it wasn’t just change
because change would have been a variety of coins; nickels, dimes, and
quarters. Every single coin on my
counter was bronze of color. Only a few
of them were shiny, but most of them were dirty and tarnished. Had this man really just paid in
pennies? I was shocked, so I just kept
staring at the pile of pennies sitting in front of me. I hadn’t even noticed that
the man made his way to the door.
With a tip of the
hat he said with a smirk, “Thank you, and keep the change.” Then, he made his way out of the store.
I stared at the
door, still with a bewildered expression on my face. Suddenly, that
bewilderment turned into anger and I threw a stuffed animal at the door where
the old man was standing moments ago. It
wasn’t just him that made me upset, but it was people
in general. They always insisted on
making my life more difficult. I sighed,
and looked at the pile once more. It
took me two minutes, but I counted 107 pennies.
Other than that, it
was a normal workday. Time went on, and
I spent two more years in that toyshop.
Honestly, I probably would have spent my whole life in that toyshop too
if it not for that fateful call.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Is this Mr.
Daniels?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I am Steve McClair, Mr. Don Franklin’s lawyer and good
friend. I am sure you are aware of his
passing, and I send out my condolences as we are all hurt by his loss. I called you to let you know that he wanted
you to have something.”
“I’m sorry Sir, but I don’t know a Mr.
Franklin. I think you have the wrong
number.”
“Oh. Well, are you
not the young man who sold him a set of jacks a couple years back?”
I froze.
I stayed in that
frozen state until I heard Mr. McClair ask, “Hello? Are
you still there, Mr. Daniels?”
“What did he want to
give me?” I managed to ask in a whisper.
Later that day, I
went over Mr. McClair’s office to pick up the letter. For some reason, I couldn’t find myself to open it until I was at the toy store.
I flipped the open
sign so that it read “closed.” The last
light of day shone through the shop windows. I slowly made my way to the
cashier counter, and sat down.
“Why me?” I wondered before opening up the letter.
Mr. Daniels,
You are a hard
worker, and it wasn’t very hard to see. You reminded me of a younger self when I was
your age. You see, at your age, I was
stuck working long hours at a shoe store of all places. I had to work because my dad had an accident
in work and was no longer capable of doing the things that he used to, and we
needed money. This was what was holding
me back from following my dreams of becoming something in this world. I thought for all of my life I would be stuck
in this town because I needed to take care of my family. Now, I don’t know your story, but the first thing I need you to please know is
that it isn’t our problems or situations that make us
who we are. The second thing I need you
to know is why I gave you all of those pennies that day. I am not the crazy old man that you may think
me to be.
One day after work,
my mom gave me my allowance. It was one
penny. Mind you, I was nineteen. I was confused and angry with her because I
had worked hard for that money and I felt I deserved more. However, she told me that every penny counts
if I wanted to get out of this town. She
was right. Had my mother not had said
anything nor given me that penny, I would not have had the hope or courage to
work even harder to follow my dreams and make something of my life. That is why I paid you in pennies, son. Although it was a little harder and it took
you a little longer to count up all of that money, you still did it. You still did it, son. And, I know you lied
to me when you said that you loved your town and that you could never leave it.
While there may be truth in that statement, I know you want to leave, so go.
Time might be running out for me, but you have your whole life ahead of you.
Remember, YOU are
the only person holding yourself back.
Sincerely,
Mr. Franklin
“Thank you, Sir,”
I managed to whisper. I sat there in the dark, desolate toy store
staring into the eyes of the lifeless toys as I reflected on what I had just
read. No one had ever cared for me
before, or at least not like that.
I carefully folded
the letter, and was about to put it back into the envelope when I saw something
else inside the envelope. After
realizing what it was, I held it tight in my sweaty palm, pulled it close to my
heart, and closed my eyes, just for a moment. In that moment, I could hear his
voice saying, “Here’s a little
something to get you started with your life, my boy.”
Not 107 pennies,
but in the end, this man- no! This benefactor gave me 108 pennies. My God, he gave me 108 pennies.
Later that day, I
went to the cemetery. Dew from the
flowers I bought dripped onto my hand. I
placed them along with a teddy bear I named Jacks by his gravestone. I never did say a proper good bye to the man.
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