The Ultimate Treasure

Esmé sat at her desk fortified by musty gray fabric board. She paused as a fellow worker bee buzzed passed the entrance to her fortress of corporate solitude. Esmé usually wasn't distracted by the activity around the office. She was laser-focused on her mundane administrative tasks and made a name for herself as the go-to person if you needed something done quickly and efficiently. She had her priorities straight, and work was at the top. In fact, her job was the only item on the list. To be happy in this world, you needed to accumulate some modicum of wealth, and her eye was on the prize.

Esmé wasn't receiving the usual number of requests today, and she had a feeling it was because today was the day after her thirtieth birthday. She was sure that her superiors and peers alike were under the assumption she had celebrated the night wildly like any normal twenty-nine-year-old entering a new decade of life. While she apricated their consideration for lessening her workload, she most definitely was not suffering from the effects of a late night at a karaoke bar. Her closest friends lived miles away and had unsuccessfully tried to convince her to use her vacation days to jet off to Las Vegas in celebration. Esmé had goals, and crazy Vegas weekends were not how she would achieve them.

Her disappointment was hovering over her cubicle like a radioactive cloud. She wanted to be viewed as a respectful businesswoman who put in the most hours, not a punch card jockey watching the clock. There was a buzz of conversation rising, gaining volume and excitement as some office gossip made its rounds. Esmé caught only two words, Jason and quit. Jason Landry was her competition for an upcoming promotion opportunity. She popped up over her gray walls and joined the excited chatter.

“Jan, did I hear you say that Jason quit?” Esmé interrogated her neighbor.

"Yes. He had an accident over the weekend. He fell off a ladder cleaning gutters. He landed on a stone wall on the patio and hurt his back. I guess he’s in a brace for a while. Tammy said he called Mr. Voss this morning and quit. Just like that, he didn’t even want to come in to collect his stuff.” Jan finished with a sigh.

"Well, I wish him a speedy recovery," Esmé replied.

"He's really had it rough this month. First, his grandfather passes away, and now this." Jan continued.

"Jan, cheer up. Jason had been planning to quit since he returned from that hiking trip." Jamie from across the aisle chimed in. "His grandfather left him a notebook; I think maybe it was like a bucket list or something.” Jamie speculated. 

“I volunteer to pack up his desk. I’ve finished my work for the day, so it’s no big deal.” Esmé offered. She couldn’t pass up a chance to claim Jason’s unfinished projects. Completing his work would undoubtedly get her promoted.

"Oh, that's so kind. Take this banker's box; it should be big enough for his things." Jan crooned as she handed Esmé the folded cardboard.

Esmé swiftly walked down the uniform columns of workspaces until she reached the one with a plain white copy paper sign attached: JASON. She respected his no-nonsense nameplate; too many people bedazzled and decorated their cubicles. It was distracting. There were the usual suspects placed on top of his desk, a coffee mug, a desk lamp, and a framed wedding photo of him and his wife exchanging their vows. Esmé placed them all in the banker's box and began to open drawers and sift through files. She was starting to believe Jamie was right about Jason's plan to quit. Most of his projects appeared to be complete. He had tied up his loose ends, leaving nothing for her to claim. As she closed the filing cabinet, the drawer became stuck; something had shifted, preventing her from closing it. Esmé pushed aside the hanging folders and felt a sharp sting. The mangled metal of a spiral-bound notebook had stuck her, and a small globule of blood was forming on her finger.

The notebook looked worn. It was missing some paper but filled with curious notes and sketches. Esmé flipped through its pages and began to understand the author was describing a great treasure. There were drawings of trees, rocks, and stumps, paired with instructions on which direction to turn when reaching them. This was a map! A treasure map. A letter was penned on the last page.

Dear Wanderer,

The ultimate treasure can be found if we know where to look. I have spent my life pursuing this treasure, but fear I was looking in all the wrong places. The pages of this ordinary notebook hold the secrets. I wish you luck in your search.

Your Friend,

           D.L.

           Esmé closed the notebook and placed it in the box on top of Jason’s belongings. She headed slowly towards her manager’s office to deposit her colleagues’ effects. Before the box touched the floor, she snatched up the notebook and hid it beneath her blouse. Esmé was shocked by her actions and hurried back to her cubicle. Once safely surrounded by her gray fabric board, she quickly hid the notebook amongst her folders and shoved it all into her leather satchel. For the first time in her career, she punched out ten minutes early and hurried home. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was destined for greatness, and this notebook was her ticket.

           The cool spring air flooded Esmé’s car with an invigorating essence of new beginnings. She inhaled deeply, feeling a rush of excitement. She couldn’t believe she had stolen Jason's notebook. Panic and doubt seeped in. What if he found out? Would he report her? Would she lose her job and get arrested? Or did he already find the treasure and simply forget about the notebook tucked behind his files? There was only one way to know for sure. She would have to go looking for the treasure herself. But how foolish was that? She couldn't afford to use personal days for such a frivolous endeavor. Those were for her medical appointments and possibly a day or two to get over the flu should she be so unlucky. She needed to turn around and march back into that office, toss that notebook into Jason's box of things, and get a good night's sleep. Esmé kept driving.

           Her perfectly maintained yard glared at her, and her cute bungalow, ready for a young family, loomed over her. Esmé remained in her practical commuter sedan, assessing her life. She made all the right choices and took the safe path, but she was still missing something. Moments like these were when Dr. Waltham wanted her to reach out. Esmé pulled out her phone, opened the Therapy Now app, requested a session, and waited. Dr. Waltham's face appeared on the screen and greeted her optimistically. Esmé confessed her crimes of theft and self-doubt, explained her position, and expected him to advise her to turn the notebook over to its rightful owner.

           “Esmé, although I don’t condone theft, a notebook full of nature sketches sounds rather innocuous. I think the greater crime here is missing an opportunity for adventure and self-discovery. There’s nothing wrong with taking a few days off from work to stroll through the forest. Studies show promise in nature as an effective tool for managing mental health. A little forest bathing could do you some good." Dr. Waltham prescribed.

           "Thank you for the last-minute session. I'll see you next week at our regular time." Esmé disconnected and pocketed her phone.

           The sun was setting, throwing shadows over her banal way of life. Esmé lunged from her car, clutching the notebook to her chest. She raced inside and began tearing through her closets, piling up all the gear she might need for a few days in the mountains. She was going on a treasure hunt.

           Esmé's pack was busting at the seams; she wouldn't be caught unprepared. She kept the notebook in her jacket pocket for easy access and headed down the trail. The morning was just beginning, and dew clung to the blades of grass lining the rocky path. She took a moment to breathe and feel her excitement, visualizing the metaphorical pot of gold at the end of her rainbow. Hopefully, the pot of gold was not so metaphorical when she reached the destination mapped in the notebook. "X marks the spot," she giggled to herself.

           It didn’t take long for Esmé to realize she had overpacked. The straps of her bag were digging into her shoulders with the weight of her provisions. Her breathing was labored, and her knees felt strained. Despite the chilly April air, she was sweating bullets and soaking through her layers. She was never going to make it at this pace. Sacrifices would have to be made.

Esmé consulted the notebook and determined she had reached the point where she was to travel off-trail. Before stepping off the well-marked path, she sat on the large stump whose sketch appeared on her map. She dug through her pack, choosing items of bulk and weight: an oversized towel she bought on a beach trip, a gallon jug of water, an entire box of protein bars, a battery-powered AM/FM radio, extra batteries, two pairs of wool socks, three cooking magazines and a folder filled with project proposals. Esmé analyzed her choices, topped off her water bottle from the gallon jug, stacked her surrendered possessions on the stump, and pushed her way through the underbrush.

           Esmé bushwacked for what felt like an eternity. Her pack was lighter, but her heart was not. Doubt and fear were creeping up her body like poison ivy vines up a pine tree, choking off what confidence she had left. The terrain was steep and crowded with boulders. She had to scramble over them and zig-zag her way through. Her ankles were weak, and her face was scratched. She lost her footing and fell to her knees, her pack twisting off her back and dragging her down. "RAAAAAAH" She screamed to the heavens, tears stinging her eyes. “No amount of gold is worth this," she whispered.

           Esmé lay where she fell, gazing through the tree tops at the clouds puffing by. She watched a pair of chickadees flitter across her view, chirping at each other excitedly. Thoughts floated across her mind. She needed to admit defeat and hobble back to her car, return to her white bread life and forget about this crusade for wealth. Her sweat and tears were drying on her cheeks, and a calmness was settling over her. "NO," she called out. "I won't give up. I can’t let Jason win.” She had been trailing behind Jason's successes for years; she wouldn't let him show her up by finding a box of treasure in the woods. Esmé extracted herself from her rocky grave, adjusted her pack, and continued her climb.

           A grouping of birch trees was dancing a circle around a large flat-topped boulder. This was it; the notebook told of a narrow path that snaked downwards through a grove just on the other side of that boulder. Esmé's adrenaline pushed her up the last few feet to the top of the lookout. She peered down and spied the trail, which looked almost like a stone staircase carved into the side of the mountain. She pulled out the notebook for guidance.

Follow the sounds of water to your destination.

Esmé held her breath, closed her eyes, and listened harder than ever. A bubbling and a trickling flowed past her ear. She heard the sounds of water! Nothing could stop her now; she was so close to that pot of gold. Her feet couldn't move fast enough, and she slid down the rocks on her butt like a water slide at the park. She reached the bottom and surveyed the surroundings. The notebook didn't give any clues to the specifics of the treasure's container. On the second pass, Esmé spotted an unassuming gray plastic tote. The kind she stored her Christmas decoration in. She approached the tote cautiously; she had visions of Indiana Jones-style booby traps. Esmé pried the lid off and gazed inside.

           A towel much like the one she abandoned was folded on top, and various brands of protein bars and bottled water were scattered around it. A first aid kit peeked up from the bottom, and a canvas hammock was packed into the remaining space. Esmé stared at the contents, not understanding what she had found. A plastic pouch was affixed to the inside of the lid containing a folded piece of notebook paper.

Dear Wanderer,

If you’re reading this, you’ve found the ultimate treasure. Take in this secluded swimming hole and let it be a haven for your lost soul. Relax. You will never miss another rainbow because of your search for the gold.

Your Friend,

           D.L.

 Esmé looked up from the letter and saw the vibrant colors of a rainbow arched in front of a curtain of river water. A stream cascaded off a rock ledge and collected into a tranquil pool below. She couldn't believe she had overlooked such an awe-inspiring scene upon her descent. She grabbed the towel and the hammock and made her way to the pool's edge. She found two metal rings drilled into the rock for the hammock's carabineers. As she set up her space, she noticed a collage of initials carved into a nearby stump. J.L. was still the yellow of fresh wood.

Esmé lay back in the borrowed hammock, her arms folded behind her head. Jason had found the ultimate treasure before her, but it didn't matter; she now knew what he did. Happiness doesn’t come from accumulating gold; it comes from experiencing the rainbow.