Page 69 - WTP Vol. IX #10

labeled as competent.
“I think about Meredith all of the time. I’m so sorry.”
“Just so you know, we got many donations on Go- FundMe, but yours was the largest out of the teachers, $300. It shows how much you cared about my baby.”
Meredith’s mom sounded so appreciative that it bor- dered on sarcastic, like she knew what Lora did. “It was supposed to be anonymous, like my first, but I must have unclicked the option.” There was no need for that. She gave nothing, yet insinuated that she gave hundreds, both anonymously and in her name.
Meredith’s mom touched her heart. “God bless you.” She looked to be struggling to contain her emotions, and walked away in a depressed stroll to the self-
tion that stuck out in the multitudes. He was in his mid 20’s, and spoke to the passersby so politely, at the level of a Kindergarten teacher. His sign said that he didn’t want money, that kind words were more generous, no doubt a ploy to get money, because kind words didn’t fill his stomach or get him wasted. Yet, his demeanor made you believe it. If he tore on the heartstrings of a cheap commuter like Lora, he must have gotten naive tourists to empty their pockets. She planned to give him the $300 to hopefully clear her conscience.
She went to his usual spot against the Krispy Kreme, where he sat on the ground amongst a heap of trash, his area messier than usual. His feet were swol-
len, with cuts and sores covering them, as would be expected for someone who walked barefoot around Manhattan. He was not chatty like usual, he just sat there, spaced out. She knelt to him, getting eye level. “Your positivity keeps me going!”
“Well, I’m glad to be your entertainment!” He re- sponded with attitude, a side she never saw from him. She walked past him hundreds of times, and he was always so kind. Just her luck for him to put a damper on her rewarding his kindness.
She pondered withholding the money. But the guilt weighed too heavily on her. By giving it to him, she was doing herself a favor. She reached into her pock- et, and put the envelope on his legs. “Do good with it.” She felt magnanimous, and free of the burden of her poor actions.
He examined the cash. “Who did you steal this from?”
Her heart dropped. “Nobody!” Her mouth shuttered and body trembled. It was impossible to act guiltier.
“You’re clearing your conscience with this.”
She said nothing more and walked away, practically running, feeling scared and threatened, and not knowing why. Only once before she gave a homeless person something, a half empty bottle of Sprite from a Thanksgiving potluck, and was cursed out for being tone deaf. Maybe he wanted Dr. Pepper. This was worse. The prick didn’t even thank her. She didn’t understand why she got such a reaction. What did he care where the money came from when it would go to drugs and alcohol? Money that should have hon- ored a poor girl’s memory, instead helped the bottom lines of Budweiser, a drug dealer and a cartel. Her conscience didn’t feel any more relieved.
(continued on next page)
“$
300 in crumpled bills. Is
it much? To a child, yes. To an adult, it depends on their financial circumstances. To a millionaire, no. To a billionaire, it’s negligible.”
checkout machines, ending the conversation without a goodbye.
Lora didn’t know what to make of her selfish behav- ior. It made Meredith’s mom feel better, but it didn’t make it right. If Meredith was watching from heaven, she would be disgusted.
Meredith’s mom bagged her items, which were mostly stomach remedies. As she walked out, she turned around to give Lora a smirk that carried a twinge of an- ger, and nearly crashed into the slow opening automatic doors. No way would she have smiled so deviously if she didn’t know the money was stolen and taken credit for. Lora would deny if allegations were brought against her. The angst of her theft had returned.
Giving it Away
There was a homeless guy who begged at Penn Sta-
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