Life In Tinwald Town.

Marilyn didn’t notice the black duffle bag right away. It was obstructed by shrubs and reeds beneath the underpass. Besides, she wasn’t looking for a bag but a man. A drug dealing man named Tony to be more specific. Tony was as unreliable as a faulty wrist watch. It was already fifteen minutes from the time he’d said he’d meet up with her and there was no sign of Tony. 

Marilyn wrung her hands nervously and began to pace. The half moon gave its light on this dark night and this only exacerbated Marilyn’s anxiety. She preferred an obscure night to hide her illicit activity. She took another furtive glance at her watch. Now he was twenty minutes late.

“Dammit, Tony!” she whispered to herself. 

She heard a car approaching in the distance. There was no way of telling if it was Tony. The car’s lights shone around the bend and Marilyn ducked beneath the underpass to avoid being spotted in the headlights. She crouched and held her breath. The shrubs tickled her buttocks but she dared not move. The car sped by, showing no signs of slowing down. The old underpass rumbled as the car drove over it and into the sprawling, rural darkness. She exhaled. This was ridiculous. 

Staying in her crouched position, Marilyn reconsidered her choice to come out. Insects buzzed around her ankles and caused her skin to itch. The dingy water under the underpass stained and wet her tennis shoes. She was missing out on much needed sleep and all to score some cocaine off sketchy Tony who was liable to ask for a sexual favor on top of his already steep prices. Ever since the Conway brothers were arrested and charged for selling drugs and racketeering, Tony had become the only dealer in town. As such, he had a monopoly and all the town’s junkies looked to him for their fix. 

Thirty minutes late. 

“Fuck this.” she said finally standing up straight and allowing the feeling to return to her cramping legs. She stretched out her left leg and shook it. She stretched out her right leg and shook it vigorously before inadvertently kicking something. Curious what she’d just kicked, Marilyn peered into the reeds and noticed a black duffle bag. It was a most unusual sight and she couldn’t help herself. Crouching again, she looked around before pulling the zipper open. The contents of the bag knocked her to her behind. 

Inside the bag were stacks of ten, twenty and fifty dollar bills. At first glance it was impossible to tell how much was all there. One thing was certain, it was more money than Marilyn had ever seen in her life. Not believing her own eyes, she reached into the bag and touched the notes with her shaking hand. Yes, the money was real and not an illusion. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit!” she gasped. 

Looking around frantically to see if anyone was witness to her good fortune, Marilyn picked up the duffle bag. After walking a few steps, she reconsidered. It was late at night and surely a woman walking out from the shadows with an unmarked bag would arouse attention. Setting the bag back down on the ground, she unzipped it and stuffed the numerous stacks into her jacket, inside her pants and even under her wool hat. Not a stack was left. 

Now the task was to get home without dropping bundles of cash along the road. She adjusted her gait to ensure cash didn’t fall out from her pants. With any luck, passersby would just assume she was some drunk and destitute soul hobbling to a park bench somewhere for the night. Her heart pounded out of her chest. With each step she took, she felt as though she was suspended in a dream and at any moment, the alarm would go off in a ghastly screech, waking her up to her mundane reality. 

Finally, she arrived at her apartment. It was stock still and quiet all around. In the past, loud arguing and thumping was commonplace. She herself had been a chief contributor to the noise pollution of only a few months ago. For four long years, Marilyn was in a turbulent relationship with her ex boyfriend, Thomas “Tommy” Hartley and for four long years the community at Willow Brooke Apartments endured hours long screaming matches from the pair. On at least half a dozen occasions Tommy was physically violent and in these instances, the screaming was accompanied by intermittent thumping as either Marilyn or her furniture hit the wall. 

Needless to say, it wasn’t fun. Eventually Marilyn grew tired of it all and ordered him out of her apartment. Though Tommy was initially unwilling to leave, some literal arm twisting from Marilyn’s brother and his friend got him out of there. Much to Marilyn’s delight, Tommy was arrested shortly after for a string of robberies and assaults and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe. 

The inside of her apartment was cold as the heat had been disconnected a month ago for nonpayment. The money stuffed in her clothes was burning hot, however. Flicking on the light, and shutting and locking the door behind her, Marilyn dumped the money onto her unmade bed. She counted it gingerly. In total, there was $22, 500. She sat wide eyed and stunned. It still felt like a dream. 

The alarm clock on her nightstand read 4:46 AM. She was yet to sleep even a wink. Outside, the world slowly stirred awake. The early risers, typically the factory workers and bus drivers trudged to their posts. The ladies of the night were also returning home after a night of selling sex and fantasy to the town’s most deviant. Marilyn blinked at the money strewn across her bed. It tickled her mind with endless possibilities. She certainly wasn’t dreaming; she hadn’t even gone to sleep.

Snapping out of her daze, Marilyn got into the shower. The water was cold but that suited her just fine. The cold water served as a crisp slap to the face which she sorely needed to ground her in reality. It was only at this time did she begin to think about whom the money may belong to and the circumstances that led to that beg being dumped under the underpass. She had enough life experience to know that whatever the background story, it was likely littered with sketchy characters who would be desperate to get their money back. 

Tinwald Town was merely a dot on the map but owing to its proximity to many highways which led traffic in every direction, Tinwald was a traffickers haven. Contraband could be in Tinwald in the morning and halfway across the country by noon, such was the efficiency of the illegal operations in the area. The money might belong to drug dealers, smugglers of various knock off luxury goods or the good old fashioned mafia. 

As a small time addict, Marilyn only knew the surface level of this seedy underworld. There was no one on earth she could tell about this haul. She briefly contemplated handing it over to the local police before recalling that they were often the perpetrators of corruption themselves. The town wouldn’t soon forget the massive racketeering cover up Tinwald PD had orchestrated right under their noses, all while serving up tickets and jail time for petty crooks. She refused to go to the cops on principle. This twenty two thousand dollar dilemma was hers to figure out alone. 

While she forged a more concrete plan, Marilyn resolved to resume life as usual. Any deviation from her daily norms might ignite suspicion and in a town so small, word got around fast. She put on her black shirt and black pants and caught the bus to Alfie’s Diner for her morning shift. 

The small diner served up breakfast and lunch to the truckers and restless families that exited the highway for a break. In between refilling coffee mugs and fielding questions from clueless out of towners, Marilyn’s mind conjured up images of vacations and fur coats. She watched people come and go from the diner, scanning their faces for traces of agitation; the kind of agitation brought on by losing such a large sum of money. In a town so full of despondent mugs though, it wasn’t easy to tell.          

“Hey, Joe, Kenny, Lisa and I are gonna grab some drinks after work. Come with us.” her coworker Ginny offered as they hung up their aprons and clocked out. Joe was sweet on Marilyn and rather easy on the eye. She considered it for a moment until she remembered the extremely large fish she had to fry at home. 

“I’m gonna have to pass today, babe. I am so tired it’s not even funny. I don’t even know how I was able to stay on my feet today.” Marilyn smiled weakly at her friend who only nodded in understanding. Marilyn did look like trampled dog feces. The pair walked out of the diner and parted ways.  

En route to Marilyn’s bus stop was a gas station. Edgar, the jolly homeless drunk staggered out the door with a bottle in a brown paper bag. He saluted Marilyn and held the door open for her. 

“Thanks,” she smiled at him. 

Over Edgar’s shoulder, she observed a sleek older model Mercedes 300 SL Roadster at one of the pumps. The forest green finish glistened in the sun and the driver of this exquisite vehicle leaned against it as he spoke on the phone. The man was finely dressed and looked a perfect match for the car he drove. She looked at him but didn’t recognize his face. Just as she was about to walk into the store, he looked up and their eyes met. He held her gaze for what seemed an eternity and his steely gray eyes had a menacing glint. She pulled her own eyes away and retreated into the gas station with a pounding heart. 

Temporarily forgetting what she ventured inside the store for, Marilyn walked slowly down the aisles. Gentlemen in bespoke suits and classic cars weren’t indigenous to Tinwald and whoever that man outside was definitely was in town for a specific reason. Perhaps twenty two thousand reasons…

 She gulped and felt her armpits sweat. Peeking out the large dirty window, she noticed he was still out there, still on his phone. 

“You’re being silly. He doesn’t know shit.” she chastised herself. 

Her bus was only moments from arriving. She hustled to the front of the store and asked for a pack of cigarettes and at the last minute asked for a lottery scratch off card. Marilyn made a show of holding up the lottery card and scratching off the ink on the back of it as she walked out the station. She wanted the man at the pump to see her do it. She wanted him to believe that she was just some poor working class woman hoping to win big off some lottery ticket. She stood at the bus stop, the man now behind her. Yet she couldn’t help but feel his intense gray eyes boring a hole into the back of her head. It was probably just in her head. 

The bus arrived and the doors creaked open. Marilyn and two other passengers boarded. To her delight, there were very few people onboard. She sat at the window and dared to take one more look at the out of place man. He had his head up and eyes fixed on her in the bus. 

Gruesome scenes plagued her mind on a loop. She imagined being kidnapped and tortured by the merciless mafia. She saw visions of her innocent family being tied up and beaten for days over her theft. The entire bus ride took only 15 minutes but she felt like she was bouncing along for an age. She almost sprinted off the bus when it stopped by her apartment complex. No doubt someone had already been sent over to ransack her place. When Marilyn turned the key in the door she fully expected to see her small apartment turned upside down and a gang of mean men ready to show her why taking someone else’s money was not advisable. 

No such scene greeted her. Her space was just as she had left it and thankfully, there were no men, mean or otherwise camped out in her living room. She slammed the door shut behind her and fell to the ground. Surprising herself, she began to cry. She cried and cried and didn’t stop. Marilyn cried because she was anxious. She cried because she was wracked with guilt. She cried because it was unfair that her conscience was giving her grief over this small fortune while the true owners of it probably made the money through the most unethical means while destroying innumerable lives along the way. She cried because she was tired. After nearly an hour on the floor in the fetal position, Marilyn climbed onto her bed and drifted off to sleep. 

She woke up with a start at midnight. The tear stains down her face looked like tribal markings. With a sigh she sat up and looked around her surroundings. All over this apartment were memories, mostly bad. Times where she’d been flung against the wall by Tommy for one reason or another. Times where she’d passed out in a drug induced sleep on the laminated bathroom floor. Times like now where some of her utilities were shut off due to nonpayment. It hadn’t been an easy life and sure some of her troubles were her own making. 

Yet, Marilyn considered her situation carefully for the first time. She had finally kicked Tommy to the curb after four years of their toxic back and forth relationship. On the night she went out to meet Tony the drug dealer, he’d been a no show which allowed her to remain drug free for yet another day. She was on a commendable sixty five day streak of being clean and sober. Instead of Tony’s low grade cocaine, she had found a literal bag of money. Marilyn couldn’t help but feel like this was a lifeline; a tangible blessing that could propel her even further away from the degenerate life she seemed for a time destined to live. 

Of course on the other hand, she also now had more money than ever to fuel her bad habits. But that prospect didn’t excite her nearly as much as taking the money and running away into an altogether different life. Twenty two thousand dollars wasn’t going to last her a lifetime but it certainly could set her up for a new life, far away from the vices of Tinwald. She only had to bet on herself to grab that new life and never look back. So what if it was the expense of some pimp or drug dealer, she thought. 

For the first time since encountering the money, Marilyn felt peace. She had made up her mind. She’d meticulously forge out her next steps, one by one, until she could break clear away from this old town. She was under no illusion that her demons couldn’t find her elsewhere. Drugs and bad choices were abundant beyond just Tinwald Town. But that was the challenge she had to embrace and she was eager to do so in new surroundings. 

Comforted by the fact that she had the next day off, Marilyn pulled out her diary and in vague terms only she could decipher, began planning her exit from her old life and this old town.