01/16/2025
I PAID FOR A FORTUNE TELLER’S BUS FARE WHILE TAKING MY ONE-YEAR-OLD SON TO THE DOCTOR—SHE SLIPPED ME A NOTE BEFORE SHE LEFT
It was a gray California morning, the kind that feels off but you can’t say why. My one-year-old son, Jamie, was strapped in his stroller, his soft breaths fogging the plastic cover. He’d had a fever all night, and I was determined to get him to the doctor. Since my wife passed during childbirth, I’ve raised Jamie alone, doing my best to be both father and mother.
The bus screeched to a stop, and I hauled the stroller up, apologizing to the driver. At the next stop, an older woman boarded, draped in flowing skirts and jangling bangles. She hesitated near the driver, rummaging through a worn purse. “I don’t have enough for the fare,” she said, her tone embarrassed.
The driver scowled. “I’M NOT A CHARITY. IF YOU DON’T HAVE THE MONEY, YOU CAN WALK.” Her face reddened as she looked around, unsure. Without thinking, I handed over a couple of dollars. “I’ll cover it,” I said. She turned to me, her dark eyes intense. “Thank you,” she whispered and shuffled to the back.
As I exited, maneuvering Jamie’s stroller, she pressed a folded note into my hand. “You’ll need this,” she said softly. At the clinic, while Jamie dozed, I opened it, expecting some vague, fortune-teller mumbo jumbo. Instead, my stomach dropped as I read the words scrawled in jagged handwriting. “THIS CAN'T BE REAL!” I said aloud.⬇️