The Little Black Notebook

Intact dignity has proven to be a rarity by the end of many in their thirties. Brenton always blamed himself for working too hard and had lived with the guilt heartily. Thinking back on his grandiose wedding day, there certainly were flickering red flags from her displayed tantrums. Despite the pain of the divorce, he had composed himself quickly and proceeded to bury himself into work. Brenton was athletic and disciplined in many areas. He didn’t do this for revenge but had a refusal to fall into his own depressive thoughts. As an entrepreneur, he dabbled in unspecified investments while married and afterwards fully executed them. After being pulled through divorce sludge, losing his home, his wife, his pets, and money, perhaps the universe would finally come back to his favor.

“Real estate has never looked so great.” Commented Scott, Brenton’s childhood friend.

“ Truth is, I am ready to get out of some of it.”

“Why is that?” Scott asked.

“Ready for change. I am getting tired of the landlord hustle. According to the appraiser’s assessment the properties would be considerably above value. North Kenwood and the property at Adeline Grove just adjacent to Southwest High have both been listed.”

“You are going to sell your fathers house? You said you would never sell it.”

Arms folded, Brenton paced by a picture window and replied, “Yes, well I am afraid interests have changed. That was my first investment property which was given to me at a near steal.” Natalie couldn’t take that one from me he thought. “Only thing is, after 15 years I have replaced and fixed everything from the bathroom tile to the light fixtures in the kitchen. It is not as my father had it anyhow. The renters over the years etched many fragments of our childhood away that remained. Any old bottle caps, or sketches on the wall have long been removed.” He paused, “Anyhow, that isn’t all my friend. I’m moving somewhere completely new.”

“What? Oh my God, you cannot be serious! Natalie had this much effect on you? Look, it wasn’t your fault and everyone in town knows that she made the biggest mistake of her life with her hasty lack of judgements.”

“That is irrelevant. There isn’t a spot in this town that doesn’t remind me of her. Since my dream has always been to set out to the unknown, I’ll do it.” A notification came across Brenton’s phone followed by a second, then a phone call. “Here is the realtor now.”

Both properties amassed value over the years that no one could have foreseen. Areas that the homes set on had developed considerably. Also, with Southwest Highs safety record, graduation rate, academic offerings, and sports spotlights, the school was quite sought after. In total, Brenton walked away with 1.7 million dollars. His journey was ready. That next month, as he was saying his goodbyes to his friends and even the realtor, reality had hit him that he may not see this town for a long time, if ever again.

“Before I forget, there were a few things left in the Kenwood property that the new owners thought you may want.” The realtor handed over a small shoe box.

Inside, were a couple of family photos during Christmas. A thimble with a painted blue rose which was his grandmothers, a handful of beads attached to his mother’s rosary, and a little black notebook. “Where did they find these?”

“In the attic, the owners were shoving overflow of their belongings up there when they stumbled across it. Do you recognize this stuff?”

“All but this little black notebook.” Confused and curious, Brenton flipped through the pages. Written throughout the notebook were mathematical numbers and names. Perhaps just an address book with phone numbers. However, after looking closer, he seen scribed symbols, side notes, and sketches. He put the little black notebook away for later.

“Thank you, Scott.” Brenton shook hands.

“Good luck Brenton.”

Brenton made it only four hours to the nearest airport. He wanted to fly somewhere warmer and serene, so he winged a last-minute flight choice, passport in hand. Perhaps a beach somewhere, where the water could crash along the shores to remind him of the vast world ahead. The painful memories crept into his mind as he said his goodbyes to the only past that he knew. He packed what he could and while grabbing his phone charger, he gazed upon the shoe box. He packed the little black book.

After the long plane ride, he had made it to his paradise with beautiful green palm trees near canopy chairs that beckoned his name.

“Fantastic.” He smiled as he picked one out before heading to the bar.

“Is that one of those man purses?” The bartender scoffed; eyebrow raised.

Taken aback, Brenton forced a smile and replied, “My beach bag? I guess you could say that.” Had she not made his drink so perfect, she wouldn’t have been tipped.

After settling into his spot for the day, he began studying the book. Its peculiarity gathered his puzzled fingers that brushed the leather cover. Inside the first page read the bold number 5255601. This could take days before this was deciphered. There were abbreviations next to the numbers and drawn plants. Brenton studied this all afternoon and as the sun began to set, he put the book away. Just in time too.

“Hey, its Brenton, right?” There she was, of all the people on this beach, what could she possibly want? He was hungry.

“Yes.” Confused, he answered her.

“I snooped your signature; my name is Megan just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier about your bag.” Dirty blonde hair under bold bleached blonde highlights, yet long exposed roots, hands and toes without a perfect manicure screamed a young local from the area.

“Let me guess, 27, you grew up just a couple miles from here and your grandpa owns a business around here.”

“You are correct, but I am 28. Am I that predictable?” She smiled.

“No, just predictably complacent. Also, I happen to have an eye for flipping things, so I see your potential.”

“Excuse me?” She asked.

“Sorry, I’m hangry, would you like to grab something to eat with me?” Brenton displayed a genuinely sincere look on his face as well.

They talked all evening, clicking well despite their fiery dispositions. As Brenton reached into his bag to pay, the black book exposed itself on top. A confused expression from Brenton came over him. Such peculiar writings he thought. She seen it and he knew she had. No worries though it wasn’t really any of her business.

“Oh, what is that? Do you draw? Are you an artist?”

Here we go. He explained everything and she flipped through the book herself. “I have never seen anything like it, but famille is French for family. To be precise it is a family tree, this bolden name is La tante Margarete Bender.”

“That is my aunt. Is there anything else you can read or understand?”

“No, I am sorry.” She handed it back as they shared contact information. He put the book away and made plans to meet later in the week before he left. He was not looking for a relationship.

The next morning Brenton called his Aunt Margarete. She was 87 but lived close by his hometown. In fact, he was close to his Aunt. He had her number ready, 525-5601. Wait, that is odd, that was the number in the front of the book, but Margarete just received this new phone number a year ago when she switched carriers. Brenton helped her set it up.

“Aunt Margarete? Hey its Brenton. I know this may sound crazy, but do you know anything about a little black notebook? Found it at the place on Kenwood.”

A long pause, “If you have it then you were always intended to have it. It is a book of astrological numbers based upon years of work. It is true that these numbers are codes. The book is full of them. If you drink the herbal teas while reciting the codes, then you will be able to manifest positivity. Have you recently come into some money?”

“Yes.”

“Is it enough for you to be set in your life?”

“Yes, I would say it is enough for me.” Brenton’s business mentality instantly began calculating numbers to confirm this with himself.

“Hold onto it and as long as you hold on to this book, you will always have enough money.”

Brenton wasn’t sure how to feel about this information. With a little research it was discovered that indeed there are so called manifestation codes. It was near time for his beach vacation to end. He decided to meet with Megan one last time to share what his Aunt had explained to him.

After hearing all the information, she responded, “My mother passed away leaving me quite an inheritance. I was to use some for college but instead stayed behind to look after my grandfather to help him. I understand manifestations.”

As Brenton stood up after dinner, the little black book fell from his pocket. Although he noticed, he wrestled with fate as to whether he should leave it or pick it up.

“Excuse me a moment while I use the restroom.” He left it lay. Glancing back at his test, she fell for it. She quickly reached down and placed it into her pocket.

A few minutes later he returned to the table and reached forth his hand to shake hers. “Goodbye Megan.”

“Goodbye Brenton, it was great to meet you.” Nervous, she stood up with her handbag and began to make her get away. He followed her out the door and to a cab.

"I believe you have something that belongs to me.” He said sternly.

She knew she was caught. “I am sorry, it’s just that I figured it was meant for me to find.” She said smiling coyly.

“Perhaps you are right, but nothing is for free.”

“I will give you $10,000 for it.”

“20,000 dollars and it’s all yours. After all, if you have it you don’t have to worry about money, right?”

He crawled into the cab with her and they went to her house. She pulled out $20,000 on the spot and handed it over. “I think I am getting the better end of the deal. Thank you, Brenton.”

The next day while on the plane, a small distant voice of his Aunt reminded him of a new memory. Also, it reaffirmed to him that had it not been for the years of hard work put into the Kenwood place, it never would have sold. Had it not been for the years of watching and valuing his money, he wouldn’t have been able to hold onto it. Had he not used his bartering skills, he would not have walked away from a trip $20,000 richer. The book of codes he did not believe in. For in fact his Aunts tone had reminded him of moments where his grandfather was using a small black notebook to teach Brenton generational home plant medicines. In fact, the numbers written were not of codes at all, it was from a game of make believe that his Aunt and his father played with him during holidays. The numbers were the ages of all the kids in the family at the time. In fact, we are all in charge and have a hand at playing in our own fate. Key players are valued and needed but ultimately someone must choose to begin their good fortune. Also to be careful of movements made in haste. Nevertheless, we may just be capable of manifesting some of our own realities if we believe.