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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Miracles / Wonders
- Published: 01/24/2018
My best friend. Mr. X. Part II
Born 1951, M, from Wilmington NC, United StatesShe saw the big kid with mahogany hair come into the Burger King. Even though she wasn’t in the best of moods, he was a Customer and Customers she treated with respect, kindness and a cheerful smile. She put her own dark thoughts back on hold in order to greet the big kid properly.
“Good Morning, may I take your order?”
Nothing could have prepared her for his answer, nor for his insight.
“Are you okay? You looked glum when I came in the door. Is everything okay with you?”
At first she was a bit taken back. She was born and raised in these hills. Shenandoah Valley folks are a mix of Mennonites, Evangelicals, and just plain folks; none of which would pry into the thoughts of a complete stranger. But when she looked into his eyes she saw only kindness and concern looking back at her. Anyone who knew her, including her own Mom and her twin sister Ellen, would have fainted at her response to a complete stranger.
“No. It isn’t. I got accepted to Princeton.”
The big kid’s face lit up.
“Why that is Marvelous! That is the hardest school to get into in America. Most folks think it is Harvard, but it isn’t. It is Princeton. You should be proud of yourself.”
Her eyes teared up. Water didn’t pour out but words did. Words and thoughts that she had bottled up for the last two months.
“I can’t go. I know I earned it. I just can’t afford it. Even with all the Financial aide that the School tried to offer us, well, my family and I couldn’t afford it. And I sure don’t want to graduate a quarter of a million dollars in debt."
It was then that a few tears found a way to leak through her iron will and dribble in slow streams down her face.
“When do you have to enroll and pay your admission fees?”
“In two weeks. If I don’t pay by the first of June they will withdraw my admission. Then I would have to reapply again next year. As if I could afford it with one more year of Burger King under my belt.”
In spite of herself a little puff of a laugh came out with her last sentence. She found it funny that they thought she could come up with thousands of dollars if she was just given another year to earn more money.
The big kid reached into his jacket pulling out a small leather covered check book. With a gentle voice he called back to the Lady over by the french fries:
“Miss, could you watch the register for a bit? I have to talk to this young lady for a moment or two.”
The older woman nodded her assent. She had no earthly idea why he had to talk to Millie but the look on his face begged for the chance.
“Sure, but don’t keep Millie too long. We get a lunch rush in about thirty minutes.”
The big kid smiled back at the older woman.
“Thanks, I will have Millie back at work before then.”
With a soft "come hither” wave of his hand and a finger pointing to the nearest booth- he looked directly at Millie.
“Millie, let’s sit for a bit and figure this out.”
To this day Millie does not understand why she complied so easily, so willingly, so trustingly. Part of her laughed inside at the series of adverbs in her mind- noting she would have edited them out of her own story. It made her smile.
They sat down in the booth and the big kid opened the leather check book took out a pen and paused:
“Millie. I need to ask you a question. I want a full answer. Don’t scrimp. Don’t try to undervalue what you need. Don’t try and scrape by. Tell me what you would need for all four years, in dollars, to go to Princeton full time take summers off or to study abroad, and to have some spending money."
Millie couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud. She laughed so hard and for so long- that the lady by the register gave her an alarmed look. Millie waved her off with a quick “I’m fine” look and then wiped the tears of laughter from her cheek with a napkin.
“What, why? Are you going to write me a check from that fancy leather case?”
“Yes.”
The laughter stopped dead in her throat. There wasn’t room for hope, disbelief, and a miracle, to squeeze by the cut off laugh.
“You…you…what?”
Millie’s mind was a jumble of future dreams suddenly brought back to life. Hope burned through every dismal thought she had since she got that damn acceptance letter. A part of her thought he was crazy, and another part thought she was crazy for believing a miracle had walked in the door wearing mahogany hair, leaking kindness and concern.
“I have a very rich friend. He is my best friend. Mr. X. I have known him since we were kids. He is almost a hermit…no, more like a recluse. He is extremely wealthy but likes to help individuals, not causes, or organizations.
If I spot someone like you- someone who (with a little help) can make a difference in the world, or their world, I am free to act on my own. I just tell him who I gave the money to and why. He keeps a log, and that’s that.”
With that the big kid with mahogany hair leaned over to tap her hand lightly.
“So what is that number?”
Millie had spent weeks studying spreadsheets trying to figure out a way to make it work. So she knew both the bare bones, almost indentured servitude number that would get her through four years at Princeton, and the number if she was careful. She also knew the number for four years if she worked full time somewhere to help with costs. She also, in a moment of pure Peter Pannish whimsy, figured out the number that would let her live like a normal college kid, complete with apartment, pizza money, and clothing allowance. So she didn’t hesitate.
She gave him all three numbers.
He laughed. A gentle supportive laugh, not an ounce of sarcasm or cynicism in it at all. It was, she thought, a kindred laugh. Warm.
The big kid put his head down and started writing out the check. After he filled it out, he wrote a small contract on the little line at the bottom left of the check; the line usually used to say what the check was written to pay for. Then he looked at her now cow wide eyes for a long moment before he spoke.
“Millie. Before I hand you this check, I need you to understand what you have to do to earn it. Okay?"
Millie merely nodded. No dark thoughts of any kind entered her mind. Whatever she had to do to earn this money, it wouldn’t be something that would compromise her. The big kid simply didn’t leave any room in how he carried himself for any form of vileness to lay hidden from view.
“I am going to tell Mr. X about you. He will tell me exactly what I wrote on this check. It is a contract. You keep your end of it, and all will be well.”
Millie nodded again. Not trusting her voice and not knowing the amount of the check. She knew she would work two jobs if that is what it took to get to go to Princeton with whatever amount he was going to give her.
“Okay. Here is the deal. You graduate in four years and you don’t owe us anything. You just send a copy of your diploma to the address on the check. If, for some reason, you are delayed by an accident or bad health from graduating in four years, the loan will not accrue any interest.
If you don’t finish college you will have to repay the full amount. In payments of fifty dollars a month until the principal is reached. There isn’t any interest on this loan either way. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes.” Came out quietly. There was no way Millie wasn’t going to graduate. But even if she didn’t fifty dollars a month would not be anywhere near the strain that most kids her age feel trying to pay back student loans. But if the payback amount was only fifty dollars a month, well, it can’t be an amount that would let her go to Princeton. Her dreams congealed along side hope that was still trapped in her throat.
The big mahogany haired kid saw the light in her eyes dim. So he quickly pushed the check towards her.
Millie turned it towards her, almost afraid to look. When she did look, she fainted.
She woke to the big kid fanning her face and all four of the Burger King workers surrounding her with distressed looks on their faces. She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing and screaming:
“It’s okay. I am going to Princeton! I am. I am. I am.”
She waved the check in the air like a magic wand that removed any roadblocks to her future in little purple puffs of fairy dust.
It took a few minutes, but everyone finally went back to work. Leaving just her, the big kid with mahogany hair, and the check, to sit quietly at the booth. She looked at the check again. A small furrow of skin folded in a crease just above her nose.
“Wait. This check is for almost sixty thousand dollars more than the number I gave you. Did you hear me wrong?”
“No. I did not hear you wrong Millie. That money is not extra. 30 grand of it is for your car. A good car that will last you all through college so you can visit your family on holidays. 20 grand is for travel. You can’t beat travel to get a real education. The last ten grand is to help out folks you meet who might need just a little bit to get by, or have a good Christmas. Call it your Charity fund. Mr. X wants you to get used to giving some of what you have to those who aren’t as fortunate."
Now the tears did fall from her eyes in torrents. Miracles are not easy to cope with. Dreams that have real life foundations to make them not only possible but definite are also not easy to cope with.
Twenty minutes ago, her life looked dismal, bleak, filled with 'could have beens'. Now? It glowed.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
The big kid with mahogany hair smiled at her, patted her hand, and got up to leave.
“Oh, don’t thank me. Thank Mr. X. You can write him at that address. Just graduate and he will be thanked. You might want to put that check in your bank before you go back to work. It was nice meeting you.”
He shook her hand, leaving her sitting in a pool of happy thoughts. Who should she call first? Her Mom, or Ellen. Only then did she look up as he disappeared into the parking lot.
A wry smile formed on her face. An image formed in her mind.
He never ordered food. Maybe he was an Angel. An Angel for Mr. X.
She folded the check, not trusting it to her pockets or purse, just held it tightly in her fist. She walked to the Register and told Mrs. Margaret that she had to go to the bank and would be right back. Since the bank was on the other side of the parking lot, Mrs. Margaret just said okay.
And it was.
End of Part II.
My best friend. Mr. X. Part II(Kevin Hughes)
She saw the big kid with mahogany hair come into the Burger King. Even though she wasn’t in the best of moods, he was a Customer and Customers she treated with respect, kindness and a cheerful smile. She put her own dark thoughts back on hold in order to greet the big kid properly.
“Good Morning, may I take your order?”
Nothing could have prepared her for his answer, nor for his insight.
“Are you okay? You looked glum when I came in the door. Is everything okay with you?”
At first she was a bit taken back. She was born and raised in these hills. Shenandoah Valley folks are a mix of Mennonites, Evangelicals, and just plain folks; none of which would pry into the thoughts of a complete stranger. But when she looked into his eyes she saw only kindness and concern looking back at her. Anyone who knew her, including her own Mom and her twin sister Ellen, would have fainted at her response to a complete stranger.
“No. It isn’t. I got accepted to Princeton.”
The big kid’s face lit up.
“Why that is Marvelous! That is the hardest school to get into in America. Most folks think it is Harvard, but it isn’t. It is Princeton. You should be proud of yourself.”
Her eyes teared up. Water didn’t pour out but words did. Words and thoughts that she had bottled up for the last two months.
“I can’t go. I know I earned it. I just can’t afford it. Even with all the Financial aide that the School tried to offer us, well, my family and I couldn’t afford it. And I sure don’t want to graduate a quarter of a million dollars in debt."
It was then that a few tears found a way to leak through her iron will and dribble in slow streams down her face.
“When do you have to enroll and pay your admission fees?”
“In two weeks. If I don’t pay by the first of June they will withdraw my admission. Then I would have to reapply again next year. As if I could afford it with one more year of Burger King under my belt.”
In spite of herself a little puff of a laugh came out with her last sentence. She found it funny that they thought she could come up with thousands of dollars if she was just given another year to earn more money.
The big kid reached into his jacket pulling out a small leather covered check book. With a gentle voice he called back to the Lady over by the french fries:
“Miss, could you watch the register for a bit? I have to talk to this young lady for a moment or two.”
The older woman nodded her assent. She had no earthly idea why he had to talk to Millie but the look on his face begged for the chance.
“Sure, but don’t keep Millie too long. We get a lunch rush in about thirty minutes.”
The big kid smiled back at the older woman.
“Thanks, I will have Millie back at work before then.”
With a soft "come hither” wave of his hand and a finger pointing to the nearest booth- he looked directly at Millie.
“Millie, let’s sit for a bit and figure this out.”
To this day Millie does not understand why she complied so easily, so willingly, so trustingly. Part of her laughed inside at the series of adverbs in her mind- noting she would have edited them out of her own story. It made her smile.
They sat down in the booth and the big kid opened the leather check book took out a pen and paused:
“Millie. I need to ask you a question. I want a full answer. Don’t scrimp. Don’t try to undervalue what you need. Don’t try and scrape by. Tell me what you would need for all four years, in dollars, to go to Princeton full time take summers off or to study abroad, and to have some spending money."
Millie couldn’t help it. She laughed out loud. She laughed so hard and for so long- that the lady by the register gave her an alarmed look. Millie waved her off with a quick “I’m fine” look and then wiped the tears of laughter from her cheek with a napkin.
“What, why? Are you going to write me a check from that fancy leather case?”
“Yes.”
The laughter stopped dead in her throat. There wasn’t room for hope, disbelief, and a miracle, to squeeze by the cut off laugh.
“You…you…what?”
Millie’s mind was a jumble of future dreams suddenly brought back to life. Hope burned through every dismal thought she had since she got that damn acceptance letter. A part of her thought he was crazy, and another part thought she was crazy for believing a miracle had walked in the door wearing mahogany hair, leaking kindness and concern.
“I have a very rich friend. He is my best friend. Mr. X. I have known him since we were kids. He is almost a hermit…no, more like a recluse. He is extremely wealthy but likes to help individuals, not causes, or organizations.
If I spot someone like you- someone who (with a little help) can make a difference in the world, or their world, I am free to act on my own. I just tell him who I gave the money to and why. He keeps a log, and that’s that.”
With that the big kid with mahogany hair leaned over to tap her hand lightly.
“So what is that number?”
Millie had spent weeks studying spreadsheets trying to figure out a way to make it work. So she knew both the bare bones, almost indentured servitude number that would get her through four years at Princeton, and the number if she was careful. She also knew the number for four years if she worked full time somewhere to help with costs. She also, in a moment of pure Peter Pannish whimsy, figured out the number that would let her live like a normal college kid, complete with apartment, pizza money, and clothing allowance. So she didn’t hesitate.
She gave him all three numbers.
He laughed. A gentle supportive laugh, not an ounce of sarcasm or cynicism in it at all. It was, she thought, a kindred laugh. Warm.
The big kid put his head down and started writing out the check. After he filled it out, he wrote a small contract on the little line at the bottom left of the check; the line usually used to say what the check was written to pay for. Then he looked at her now cow wide eyes for a long moment before he spoke.
“Millie. Before I hand you this check, I need you to understand what you have to do to earn it. Okay?"
Millie merely nodded. No dark thoughts of any kind entered her mind. Whatever she had to do to earn this money, it wouldn’t be something that would compromise her. The big kid simply didn’t leave any room in how he carried himself for any form of vileness to lay hidden from view.
“I am going to tell Mr. X about you. He will tell me exactly what I wrote on this check. It is a contract. You keep your end of it, and all will be well.”
Millie nodded again. Not trusting her voice and not knowing the amount of the check. She knew she would work two jobs if that is what it took to get to go to Princeton with whatever amount he was going to give her.
“Okay. Here is the deal. You graduate in four years and you don’t owe us anything. You just send a copy of your diploma to the address on the check. If, for some reason, you are delayed by an accident or bad health from graduating in four years, the loan will not accrue any interest.
If you don’t finish college you will have to repay the full amount. In payments of fifty dollars a month until the principal is reached. There isn’t any interest on this loan either way. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes.” Came out quietly. There was no way Millie wasn’t going to graduate. But even if she didn’t fifty dollars a month would not be anywhere near the strain that most kids her age feel trying to pay back student loans. But if the payback amount was only fifty dollars a month, well, it can’t be an amount that would let her go to Princeton. Her dreams congealed along side hope that was still trapped in her throat.
The big mahogany haired kid saw the light in her eyes dim. So he quickly pushed the check towards her.
Millie turned it towards her, almost afraid to look. When she did look, she fainted.
She woke to the big kid fanning her face and all four of the Burger King workers surrounding her with distressed looks on their faces. She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing and screaming:
“It’s okay. I am going to Princeton! I am. I am. I am.”
She waved the check in the air like a magic wand that removed any roadblocks to her future in little purple puffs of fairy dust.
It took a few minutes, but everyone finally went back to work. Leaving just her, the big kid with mahogany hair, and the check, to sit quietly at the booth. She looked at the check again. A small furrow of skin folded in a crease just above her nose.
“Wait. This check is for almost sixty thousand dollars more than the number I gave you. Did you hear me wrong?”
“No. I did not hear you wrong Millie. That money is not extra. 30 grand of it is for your car. A good car that will last you all through college so you can visit your family on holidays. 20 grand is for travel. You can’t beat travel to get a real education. The last ten grand is to help out folks you meet who might need just a little bit to get by, or have a good Christmas. Call it your Charity fund. Mr. X wants you to get used to giving some of what you have to those who aren’t as fortunate."
Now the tears did fall from her eyes in torrents. Miracles are not easy to cope with. Dreams that have real life foundations to make them not only possible but definite are also not easy to cope with.
Twenty minutes ago, her life looked dismal, bleak, filled with 'could have beens'. Now? It glowed.
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
The big kid with mahogany hair smiled at her, patted her hand, and got up to leave.
“Oh, don’t thank me. Thank Mr. X. You can write him at that address. Just graduate and he will be thanked. You might want to put that check in your bank before you go back to work. It was nice meeting you.”
He shook her hand, leaving her sitting in a pool of happy thoughts. Who should she call first? Her Mom, or Ellen. Only then did she look up as he disappeared into the parking lot.
A wry smile formed on her face. An image formed in her mind.
He never ordered food. Maybe he was an Angel. An Angel for Mr. X.
She folded the check, not trusting it to her pockets or purse, just held it tightly in her fist. She walked to the Register and told Mrs. Margaret that she had to go to the bank and would be right back. Since the bank was on the other side of the parking lot, Mrs. Margaret just said okay.
And it was.
End of Part II.
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