And this was from a time when I barely remembered myself. And somehow, I had meant something to her. “Thank you,” I said.
“For remembering me…”
She smiled a soft smile. “How could I not?” she asked. “I mean, I did for a moment.
But then I dreamt of you as a child last night. And then I knew for sure. It was you.”
I felt a hundred times better when I left for home that evening.
I got to my little apartment and made myself a bowl of noodles. Everything was different now. Someone knew me.
The me from before I grew up. The next morning, I was jolted awake by my phone buzzing on my nightstand. Groggy, I grabbed it, squinting at the screen.
It was a notification from my bank. $700,000 had been deposited into my account. I shot up in bed, my heart racing.
This had to be a mistake. Who deposits that kind of money into a stranger’s account? My mind was spinning as I stared at the screen, wondering who I should call.
The bank? The police? Anyone?
But before I could act, my phone rang again. It was the nursing home. “Vaughn, can you come in early?” the head nurse asked.
“Mrs. Coleman… she’s been taken to the hospital. She wasn’t well last night, and she seems to have slipped into a coma.
She’s going to be monitored closely before coming back.”
I barely remember throwing on clothes or driving to work. By the time I arrived, my head was buzzing with a thousand thoughts. Mrs.
Coleman. The money. Was it all a coincidence?
What did it all mean? The staff handed me a small envelope when I got to the nursing home. “Mrs.
Coleman left this for you, V,” Catherine, a nurse, said. “She told me to give it to you last night. I’m heading off now, my shift is over.”
Inside was a note written in small, shaky handwriting.
*Use this for your dreams, sweet girl. You deserve it.*
It was from her. Mrs.
Coleman. I stood there, clutching the note, feeling the weight of her words. She had given me that money.
Somehow, she had found a way to make my dreams come true. I could go to university now. I could become something.
Someone. It took me a few days to decide what to do. In the end, I didn’t apply to the university.
I went to the hospital to see Mrs. Coleman and was glad I did. Nobody else visited her.
She was still in her coma, not knowing who was around her. And on the fifth day of her being there, she passed away in the middle of the night. In the end, I didn’t apply to the university.
Instead, I walked into the nursing home office and handed them a check for $50,000. “Use it, Miranda,” I said to the woman in charge. “Fix the leaky roof in the dining hall.
Renovate rooms. Buy a new TV. Let’s make life here better.”
I donated most of the money to charities for orphans.
And I kept a fair amount to get me into nursing school by night. When I was qualified, I wanted to work at the nursing home properly. And full-time.
Mrs. Coleman seemed to know me better than I knew myself. As I stood outside her room a few days later, watching the sunlight filter through the window, I realized something.
Maybe this was my dream all along. What would you have done?
