I know nothing.
Not how the sun rises or the sun sets. How the world spins around. How the moon is white or why stars are in the sky.
I know nothing.
So please know this going in.
For decades now I've had The Card. I found it at what was then the lowest point in my life, ready to give up and let cruel fate take my life.
I was working as a janitor in a newspaper building. I'd pick up after the reporters, listening to their banter, hearing lives I could never lead.
Like school, jobs are not for me. I take whatever takes the least out of me. But there's no future in that. Time to depart the planet.
That's when I found The Card tucked inside an envelope out by the back dumpster as I was throwing out the nightly trash behind the building.
It was an ATM card with a sticky note attached with the PIN.
Like in a movie, I looked around, then stuffed it inside my back pocket, unsure of what I was going to do.
"Maybe God doesn't want me to die, after all..." I mused.
Couldn't hurt to test it. No need to take any money. Just check the balance. No doubt it's a dead account, emptied long ago.
12,487,536.92
I did it twice just to be sure but that was the balance printed on the receipt. Enough money for a lifetime!
My head was buzzing like a bee hive. The daily limit at that time was $200. I could easily live off that and then some.
And a person with 12 million dollars wouldn't miss a measly 200 bucks. Not if I did it just once.
"Transaction cannot be processed at this time. Please try again later. We apologize for any inconvenience."
Frankly, I'd been suspicious had it worked that easily. Every shortcut comes with a price. But the ATM telling me "no" just made me want the money all the more.
First, I swore I'd tell no one of this card (That Which Can Not Be Told). What I didn't know at the time (or wanted to know) is that is when something possesses you.
No telling what someone might do for 12 million dollars. I began to withdraw from friends and acquaintances. After all, they can't pay my rent. The Card can.
Or could it? I kept getting the same message over and over. I checked the balance but it never changed. I tried various machines from different banks. Same result.
I became obsessed, a hermit researching banking rules and ATM networks, driving me to hysterics.
"First God wants me to live by giving me this card, but it's only a tease to further drive me into despair so God wants me to die after all!"
Part of me just wanted to let go and be free, turning the card into the bank. I wouldn't try to pretend it's mine or make any claims. Just return it and be done.
But then another Monday would roll along at my soul-destroying job and made me all the more determined to get that money in what turned into a wrestling match with the universe.
I heard a message from a preacher telling me the devil wants me to give up, to forego the blessings I deserve. Yes, I should be a person of faith, not doubt!
Turning in the card would make me feel better, bringing me relief from this weight I carry. But it was also a relief to know that that was the devil talking and I need have no qualms about taking that money - all of it.
Being saved means never having to say you're sorry.
So I trudged on for more years, always saying to myself the next time would be the breakthrough, keep the faith, be strong, never break. Failure ensued each time.
Then I started getting sick. It was like each try took something out of me, stinging me, draining me. I figured it was another tool of the devil to deter me.
It came down to simple survival in the end. I was at the tipping point of even being healthy enough to hold a job. Give the damn card back and let the world know what a failure I am in both spiritual and worldly terms.
I did note on the drive to the bank my spirits starting to lift - but I wasn't giving in to that! I was sorely bitter how things turned out, proving the curse of my life. Come clean and be saved! Bullshit! All hope is now lost.
I was left sitting in the chair of the bank lobby, cameras trained on me from all directions, as the woman took the card into another room to check it out.
Part of me wanted to rush out as a creeping panic told me I'd be arrested for my many thousands of attempts at theft. I could just see the woman coming back with an accusing voice and making a spectacle of me.
When she comes back everyone will be alerted to what a failure your life has been, trying to take a shortcut you failed to make work, passing on true treasures.
Right then, there was nothing more I wanted in all the world than a friend. It was a gaping, gnawing feeling swallowing me whole. I almost literally cried out.
Naturally, it was during this absorbed, vulnerable moment the woman returned to the desk in front of me before I could even think to leave. I'm sure the look on my face was not pleasant.
The suited woman was actually somewhat excited, though, explaining how the account had been locked for 25 years after the owner had passed away shortly after opening it.
She asked for my name and address in case the estate wanted to offer a reward. But maybe this was all a clever trick by her to be able to track me down later for the police.
They could dig deeper and find out I'm not the good Samaritan they think I am but I figured it would be too suspicious not to give my info. I did debate giving a false name tho.
Next couple of months I heard nothing, feeling a fool for giving my real name, more sure by the day cops would come banging on my apartment door to haul me in for questioning. I had no idea from right or left or up and down.
Sure enough, a knock came on my door. I peeked through to see an official uniform. I'm caught and going to die, at last.
It was the postman, asking me to sign for a registered letter.
Inside was a check for 1.2 million dollars, ten percent of the account. I fell to my knees.
I could have been living a completely different life the past 25 years. I bought my first brand new car yesterday but all I could think of was the love and friends I'd lost and the true price I paid.
No comments:
Post a Comment