In 500... (or less)

More Than Money

The parade of different vehicles never seemed to end at my next door neighbor's house. Each bore a new man destined to take advantage of the single mother desperate for a little stability in her life. I felt sorry for her.

But her choices in life also did her no favors. The men coming in and out were not the kind around which a stable and lasting relationship could be built. I wanted to say something, but my wife told me to stay out of it.

One day, she was knocking at my door. What could she want? In three years of living next to each other, I didn't even know her name, and our relationship had consisted of expected nods to acknowledge we knew each other.

"Hi," she said. "I've got a strange question." She didn't even bother to tell me her name.

"Ok," I replied. "I'm Ted, by the way."

"Did you...oh, Addison." It was if she wasn't expecting me to say anything in response. "Did you happen to see anyone around my mailbox since yesterday?"

A loaded question. I wanted to say that Derek or Damon or whatever-named tattoo-clad punk who had been at her house last night was the culprit of whatever happened, but I held my tongue.

"No, why?"

"It's just, well, someone put a lot of money in an envelope in my mailbox and I wondered if you knew who it belonged to."

I had theories. One of her dirtball boyfriends was a drug dealer, stashing money perhaps.

"Not a clue," was all I managed to mutter.

And then it kept happening, over and over again, every few weeks. I know this because all of the sudden she started wearing designer clothes. A new Michael Kors handbag. Nice stuff she couldn't afford. Heaven forbid she spend the money on her kid.

I staked out her mailbox for a few nights until I finally saw a middle-aged man approach it with an envelope. I dashed outside, hiding behind landscaping to make my way undetected to the street.

"What are you doing?" The kid's father, no doubt. Some married man wanting to keep his indiscretion under wraps.

"Giving her money."

"Why? Child support?"

"She has a child?"

Ok, that threw me off a little. Maybe a rich uncle or relative. The questioning continued and the answer was not at all what I expected.

"So you just decided to give money to a random stranger?" The idea seemed ludicrous.

"I'm not well-off, but I don't need it either. I figured it might help someone."

"But she wastes it," I could barely contain the years of judgments I had made.

"Says you," the man answered. "If it brings her a little peace of mind, makes her happy for a few moments, then it isn't wasted."

I tried to explain the different things she used the money for, to no avail.

The money continued, for a few years. Then one day there was an envelope in my mailbox.

"Have Stage Four cancer," it read. "Please take over. You won't regret it."

I put aside my feelings and tried it out. I realized why the man had done it. It wasn't about who got the money at all.