Two days ago, I lost my debit card.
Not that I knew I'd lost it. I was in the shower yesterday morning when Lars yelled through the door that there was a woman on the phone who had my credit card.
So I jumped out and dried off quickly. And I ran to the phone.
"This is Jeremy."
"Hi," her voice was low and calm, like a breeze through summer leaves, "I have your credit card."
"Wow.
"Thank you.
"Where did you find it?"
"On Everett. I'm housesitting in an apartment on Everett and 19th."
Her voice was liquid velvet.
Please don't stop talking, I thought.
"Where can I meet you?"
I was still dripping wet, my towel wrapped haphazardly around my waist. I pulled a strand of hair over my ear and shook the water off my fingers.
"I'm in the alternative school up the street," her voice shimmered, "you come in the door furthest from the blacktop, down the stairs, through the double doors, to the right, and in the first door you see. It's the daycare. I'll be here until two. I can leave your card if you want."
"No, I'm leaving now," I said quickly, "I'll be there in five minutes."
"Okay."
"What's your name," I suddenly remembered I should ask.
"Marian."
I threw on my inline skates, grabbed my backpack, and skated three blocks to the school. I went in the wrong door, wandered around in my socks for a few minutes, and finally found a set of double doors that looked right.
Down the stairs, through the double doors. To my right, a door covered in construction paper.
I walked in the door.
One small girl was playing with a set of blocks in the corner. In another corner, sitting at a desk, Marian was on the phone.
I walked straight toward her, and before I was within ten feet of her desk, she was holding out my card.
Of course. There was no reason to check my ID. She'd looked me up in the phone book. There's only one of me.
I took my card and mouthed 'thank you so much'.
She was still talking into the phone. I thought about her amazing voice. I wondered if the person on the other end of the phone could hear the brightness.
Marian smiled at me.
I turned around and headed for the door. I was late for work.
I twisted around to motion my thanks again. She was watching me leave, but she quickly looked down at her desk. She was still on the phone.
I fingered my card in my pocket. I waved, though she wasn't looking.
I closed the door and climbed the staircase and suddenly I was on my skates.
And suddenly I was in motion.
And suddenly I was swift, sweeping through intersections, sliding toward my everyday.
