Today is going to be a good day. I just know it is. The sun is high but the air is cool, tastes like orangeade. I am wearing a light weight green sweater as I leave the house, go down the gray granite steps and there, right on the edge of the macadam and grass is a penny. It is the most special penny, the one I have been hoping to find for three years. It is face to the sky and is dated 1992, the year my husband left me, left me alone while he rode off to heaven.
I put the penny in my right shoe and enjoy the slight discomfort on my mile walk to the mall. Each tiny pang is Harvey telling me not to let him go, to keep him with me forever. This place is my sanctorum. It is where I wander around, look in all the windows, imagine I need a new dress or tennis outfit. It is a fairy land, a carnival. It’s bright. It’s happy.
There is no difference to me which of the lovely fountains I choose to watch. All it requires is nearness to the Mall’s entrance. The mile walk tells my heart daily to sit and rest a while., When I do, often I hate myself for criticizing fat people, mothers who let their children run wild, yelling, jumping, climbing, tossing candy wrappers in the water. The wrappers float and hide the pennies tossed in. Wishful images come to mind. I want to wade into the waster, examine each coin, look at dates, but that would be cheating. Harvey is not in the fountain.
As I turn Macy’s corner my stomach gives a growl. It tells time better than my fake Rolex watch. The food court is back where I was a few minutes ago. ‘About face, Rita,’ Harvey commands. From Children’s Gap I can see the Eetery that is already filling. I quicken my step. Haagen Das and the pretzel cart have lines of kids. Mothers sit at tables wearing new fashions. Hats for females will be big for fall. I hate hats and won’t be joining the fad followers.
I take a tray from a lopsided stand, put the tinny flatware and a paper napkin aboard and start my circle, trying to make a choice of lunch. A lean kosher corned beef sandwich is usually fresh or maybe a garden salad of my own making. Hot dogs are flying off the grill. The greasy smell alone sends me onward. Not one Chinese person is in line at the Chinese stand. I join the Caucasian ladies and wait my turn. I order my favorite, Kung Pau Chicken, put it and a pot of hot tea on my tray and look for an empty small table. There isn’t one. The clatter, the loud voices become unbearable. I lean against a pillar and watch for somebody to maybe swallow his hot dog in one gulp. No more steam comes from my Kung Pau and the tea must taste like pee. I consider dumping it all in the trash can and head to the closest one.
There, next to the trash can, is a table for two with one person seated, a man. What the heck, I take a chance and ask if I may sit with him. ‘Please do,’ he replies. ‘I’m just about finished anyhow.’ I slide out the plastic aquamarine chair, remove my cold lunch from the tray and lean the tray against the post I had been holding up. Under the chair I spy a penny, a dull one, but a penny. It had been lying face up. A good sign. The date is 1992! With no help from me, a tear forms in my eye and wets my cheek. The gentleman notices, says nothing but smiles. I am trapped and must smile back. My lunch remains uneaten. He is finished but asks if I would like a pot of hot tea. With honesty, I say, ‘Yes, thank you. That is most kind.’ While he is gone, I put my 2nd penny in my left shoe and am aware that those still standing are breathing down my neck.
The tea, he and a fresh, hot order of Kung Pau chicken brighten my spirits. My benefactor starts to leave. ‘Please sit with me a while and we can get to know each other. My name is Rita Caplan.’ ‘I’m Clark Jenkins. My mother had a thing for Gable.’ I laugh. ‘My mother thought she could be another Rita Moreno and named me after her.’ Aren’t some mothers silly?’ Conversation remains light. I motion to him how many people are waiting for his table. Clark says, ‘Let them wait.’ I do. Finally we get up to leave and a mother and daughter almost knock me off my feet.
‘Clark, let’s stop and I’ll get us a box of Fortune cookies. We can have another laugh before we part.’ The box is very ornate, very Chinese looking. Inside each cookie is packaged in gold foil. ‘Open yours first, Clark.’ He cracks it quickly and reads it to me. ‘This is your special day. Use it wisely.’ Oh, my, I think. This is supposed to be my special day. Harvey sent me two pennies and that is special enough for me. Naturally, I do not mention this to Clark. He asks what my cookie says . It crumbles into powder but I manage to unfold the little paper and read, ‘One and one makes two. Use both wisely.’
Two perfect pennies in years of looking, found on the same day must mean something important. Clark and I walk to the mall exit together. He offers to drive me home but I am leery.
I walk, feeling the pennies in my shoes with every step I take. Que sera!
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