Chapter Four
On Sunday morning, a nurse came by to tell Ben that he was cleared to go. With nothing but the clothes on his back, Ben set off on his own. Upon heading toward the exit he approached a tiny counter and informed the nurse of his name.
“Ben Owen signing out,” he said.
“Okay, Mr. Owen, if you could just sign your name on the bottom of this form, I’ll go get your stuff.”
“My stuff?” Ben asked in confusion.
The receptionist swiveled her chair around and stood up. Ben watched as she walked over to a small storage locker and searched through the various cubbyholes. When she returned, she was holding a sealed envelope.
“Here you are,” she said, handing Ben the envelope.
“There must be some mistake, this doesn’t belong to me.”
“It has your name on it,” the woman said.
Ben flipped the envelope over and saw his name scribbled on the front. “Do you know who left this for me?” he asked.
“I’m not sure, honey, my shift just started.”
“Alright, thanks.”
Ben headed toward the exit while attempting to wedge his thumb in the back of the envelope. When he reached the exit, he triggered the automatic doors to open, allowing the crisp morning air to hit his face. Standing under an awning, Ben casually opened the envelope and found a folded piece of paper inside. He pulled out the paper and read it.
DON’T GIVE UP, YOUR LIFE HAS A PURPOSE — 40 35 55 81 11
It was obviously a letter from a friend, Patrice perhaps, but he was unsure what the numbers signified. Ben shoved the papers in his back pocket, flipped up the hood on his sweatshirt, and proceeded to walk back to his apartment.
When Ben arrived, he stood in awe. The fire had destroyed the upper levels and rendered the rest of the building unliveable. A fire crew, made up of mostly volunteers, was on scene. They were working diligently to investigate the cause of the blaze and to ensure the perimeter was fenced off. A high-pressure water cannon, which extended from the back of a lone fire truck, was still in position in case the fire started up again. Between the flames, smoke, and the water, the damage was substantial. Ben was doubtful there would be anything left of his suite.
Realizing there was nothing he could do, Ben decided to go to work to see if he could get some food. He began to walk, but conveniently saw the bus approaching. He crossed the street and waited at the nearest stop. The doors opened and he boarded last. He explained to the driver that he had lost everything in an apartment fire the previous night, and therefore had no means of paying the fare. Obviously, the driver was aware of the fire and allowed Ben to ride for free.
The bus started to move and Ben clumsily shuffled down the aisle, holding onto the handrails until he found a seat. He swung himself into place, took a deep breath, and then stared out the window.
“Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay,” a middle-aged woman said.
Ben looked over at the lady, but didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry to be a bother,” the lady continued, “I overheard what happened to your apartment and I just wanted to tell you that the universe works in mysterious ways. Despite things seeming gloomy and hopeless now, you have to keep your head up. Sometimes in life, things happen for a reason, life is strange that way. Even the bad things can turn out to be blessings in disguise.”
“Thanks,” Ben mumbled.
“You know, it could have been worse, right? At least you made it out alive.”
Ben scoffed at the remark, thinking maybe he would be better off dead. Feeling as though there was no reason for his existence, Ben carried a look of despair on his face.
In an attempt to cheer him up, the lady quipped, “Look on the bright side, it’s one less bill you have to pay, right?”
The joke missed its mark. Ben mustered an insincere smile then went back to looking out the window.
“Do you have anywhere to stay?” the lady asked.
“I don’t know… no,” Ben said.
“You can’t sleep on the streets now, can you? Here, take my number and call me if you need a warm meal and a place to stay while you get back on your feet.”
The lady handed Ben a folded up piece of paper with her number written on it.
“My name is Velena,” the woman said.
“Nice to meet you, Velena. I’m Ben.”
“Well, this is my stop. I hope to hear from you, Benjamin. Take care of yourself.”
Ben acknowledged the sentiment and bid the nice woman farewell. He was not too keen on living with a stranger again, but did not dismiss the idea either. Although it would not be the first time, he had thought that part of his life was behind him. With no friends, family, or girlfriend, he did not see a whole lot of viable alternatives. Perhaps a makeshift relief shelter would be set up where he could stay until he found another apartment.
The doors closed and the bus began moving again. Ben waved to Velena, but when she was out of sight, he opened up the folded piece of paper she had given him. Scribbled on the paper were the words:
DON’T GIVE UP, YOUR LIFE HAS A PURPOSE — 403-555-8111
When he read the words, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was transfixed by the note, thinking it was either some kind of joke or a major coincidence.
What are the odds I would receive two notes an hour apart from each other with the same message? he wondered.
Ben reached into his back pocket and pulled out the other note he had received earlier. Comparing the two, he stacked the papers on top of each other so that one line was right above the other. The notes were practically identical with only a slight variance. Ben was not much for coincidences, but the eeriness was enough to give him goose bumps. He folded up both notes and shoved them in his back pocket.
The bus stopped on the other side of the street from the grocery store. Ben waited for a car to pass before crossing, and then cut through the parking lot to head inside.
The Secret Manuscript Page 4
