Pretty Penny

For someone who relied solely on plastic and overdrafts to pay for things, she seemed to find a lot of loose change lying around. In the footwell of her car, in the gutter when watching her step, on side tables in waiting rooms, in the elevator or corridors of her building. So much so that she eventually cleaned out a jar of Bolognese sauce just for somewhere to put them. 

Today, she found another pile of pennies, this time while queuing in Target. She offered them around in case someone had dropped them, but no one accepted so she pocketed them with a shrug. She picked her basket back up again with her purse clamped securely under her other arm. The purse contained several credit cards that – between each of them – she was sure she could muster up enough for some candles (she never could resist a Fresh Cotton or Lavender scented candle), a couple of “inspirationalized” notebooks for journaling, even though she hadn’t journaled a word in her life. She got some matching pens too – well, they matched the color scheme of her makeshift studio and looked like they’d write a dream. She also picked out a few indoor plants because she’d seen somewhere that introducing plants to your home boosted your health and overall happiness. They were fake, but surely, the effect would be the same?

The cost mounted up on the self-service screen as she scanned each item. She’d forgotten about the contour kit in a cute cosmetic bag that she’d picked up too, and pajama set with unicorns on them – oh, and the matching slippers shaped like a unicorn head with its multi-colored horn. Too cute! The price wasn’t, though. Wasn’t Target supposed to be cheap?  Target is so misleading, she thought. Gets me. Every.  Damn. Time. She took out a credit card and swiped. But she must have already reached a limit on that one – declined. She swiped another but that one didn’t work either – declined. She could feel the people behind her, becoming impatient and judging her, perhaps feeling second-hand cringe too. Her cheeks started to burn. She took out the third and prayed to the debt overlords that it would be accepted. Third time lucky! She breathed a sigh of relief, then gathered her bags together – she’d brought her own reusable ones and always felt like such an eco-warrior whenever she did remember them (which wasn’t often) – and left before the receipt had completely unfurled from the machine.

Loading her latest haul into the car – she would video herself un-bagging the new purchases (or “Target haul”) for her YouTube channel – she wrestled with feelings of remorse. She knew she’d have to tighten up on her spending; she was scared to think about how much she owed. But you have to spend money to make money, she rationalized. That’s what the notebooks are for, to get my life together. I’ll use them to budget and write a game plan.

By the time she drove off, she’d convinced herself that she’d made the right decision. Even though she worked a shitty job for minimum wage – and had just cut down on her hours to go part time so she could focus on her YouTube channel – she had a glorious way of not worrying too much about it because “the money will always come” as the spiritual gurus on Tik Tok said. Who needed therapy when Tik Tok was teeming with good advice?

Her YouTube subscribers were in the hundreds, but it had taken 9 months to get them. According to Google, it takes on average 22 months to reach 1000, so even though she was disappointed with the slow progress, she figured she was still on track. The money would come – in ad revenue and sponsors. She was sure of it – she repeated positive affirmations about it every day. She would use her notebooks for that too. Journal her intentions as well as map out her business plan and design her branding.

When she got home, she poured herself a glass of wine because self-care and turned on the tap to run herself a relaxing bath. She used up the rest of a bottle of bubble bath, wincing when she realized that she probably didn’t need to use that much but oh well, it’s done now.

Her desk was organized and the backdrop was looking pretty good. Rose gold shelving units with a few books and ornaments and candles and more fake plants, all expertly arranged. It was just the right amount of minimalism with a touch of feminine charm. It didn’t matter that the rest of her house was in bit of disarray – her Mother might say, a goddamn disgrace. No one saw that stuff anyway; her camera was pointed the other direction. People would only ever see the together, stylish “space” that she’d created, which is exactly what she planned to carry over into the rest of her life once she’d started to garner some success.

She would video her Target haul after soaking in the tub for a while, but as she undressed, she heard a jingling in her pocket and remembered the loose change she’d picked up earlier. She scooped them out and unscrewed the jar of pennies so she could add them to her collection. She put the jar back on the kitchen counter, finished undressing and eased into the bath which was more bubbles than water.

Lying back, she took a deep breath and repeated “the money will come”. It was a thing she did now. Not in fear of paying her bills. That’s what she told herself anyway. But in hopes of manifesting the life she wanted.

Just as she closed her eyes to fantasize about the life of a boss babe YouTuber, there was a loud smash. It came from outside the bathroom.

Her breath caught and she froze. There was no lock on the bathroom door. She fixed her eyes on the door knob and watched for even the slightest of movement. She kept deathly still, and strained to hear if someone was moving about on the other side.

Nothing.

But her heart raced as visions of an intruder entered her mind. Maybe they didn’t know she was in, maybe they’d startled themselves given the noise they most definitely didn’t mean to make. Either way, she had time to get out of the tub and throw on a dressing gown, which she did as swiftly and silently as she could. Feeling a little less vulnerable once she'd tied the toweled belt around her waist, she crept to the door and wrapped her hand around the knob. Her heart was hammering now. Thundering. So deeply and rapidly in her chest, it was all she could hear as she pressed the side of her head to the door. She stood there for what seemed like an eternity, willing herself to calm down so she could think, get a bearing on what might be happening out there, but the rush of adrenaline made it impossible. She felt hot and cold at the same time and wanted to burst. God! What a time not to have her phone with her – she’d deliberately set it aside to charge so she could “unplug”.

She found herself praying that everything would be okay and she’d come out of this with her life. That was all. She just wanted her life. And in a very clear but brief moment, she understood something about life itself.

Eventually she came to terms with what she had to do. She had to open the door. She couldn’t stand there, frozen in place, frozen in time. But how would she do it? Fast and loud, to surprise the unexpectant intruder? Or slow and quiet, maybe get a head start?

In the end, she chose not to think about it too much and simply opened the door wide.  She wasn’t purposefully quiet, but the door opened soundlessly.  She called out “Who’s there?” making made sure her voice sounded confident. Fake it till you make it.

No response.

She stepped out and looked in every direction. “Is someone there?”

Again, no answer.

Nothing looked out of place. The atmosphere was unchanged, even though she felt in a highly electrified state. But the buzzing in her ears soon began to wane as she worked through her apartment. While others might’ve mistaken her place to have indeed been ransacked, she found everything was as it was. Untouched. Then, by the time she could breathe normally again, she saw it:

The jar of pennies had exploded on the kitchen floor. Glass had shattered; pennies everywhere.

She was confused at how such a hefty jar had slid to the edge and fallen over but stranger things had happened and there was usually an explanation. Maybe she hadn’t put it far enough back on the counter but oh well. She ignored the uneasy feeling of not knowing exactly. She was used to living her life a little bit “in denial” as others often commented. But that was their own (narrow-minded) perspective.

Instead, it felt good to groan as she got to on her hands and knees and started picking out the glass. She swept it all into the dustpan before carefully gathering the pennies back together, finding the occasional shard or crumb of glass as she went. There were so many pennies. Mostly bronze, not that exciting. But she was certainly surprised at how much of it she’d built up over time. Little by little. Day by day.

The money will come, she thought to herself and laughed. FML.

She never did learn the lesson from the Angels, but that was not unusual. Their signs were often ignored; they were used to it. People, they thought, always expecting too much, never seeing what is truly in front of them.