A Necessary Evil (AKA: NED) — Chapter 2: $1.73

Note: This story was originally published on Simily Nov. 21, 2022.

Note: This fictional story is part of the Insight Timer journaling course, Journaling For Greater Wellbeing, Mindfulness And Creativity. Find it HERE. To learn more about me and my work as a nationally board-certified positive psychology and mindfulness coach, visit www.DaniellePalli.com.

Prefer the Audio Version, narrated by Danielle Palli? CLICK HERE. If you missed Chapter 1, CLICK HERE.

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“Oh, goody. You’re still here,” Jillie answered sarcastically. Ned, the demon, was standing at her kitchen counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee. “I thought I must have dreamed you up,” she yawned.

“You’re out of milk,” he answered simply, as he poured a huge helping of sugar into his cup from a glass dispenser. He began stirring his coffee with one long finger.

“No, I’m not,” she explained. “Lactose intolerant… there’s oat milk in the fridge if you want that… and I didn’t even think demons drank coffee?”

“Exactly how many demons have you met?” He opened the fridge, cringed at the oat milk, and closed the door again. Ned sipped his heavily sweetened black coffee somewhat discontentedly.

“Never mind,” Jillie huffed. “I have to get ready for work so — ”

“Here,” Ned handed her a second cup that seemed appear magically in his hand. “I made you some. It’s got oat milk and no sugar, like you like it.”

“Us, thanks?” Jillie accepted the cup, cautiously. “But if you can magically manifest things, why can’t you produce milk for your own cup of coffee?”

“Because that would be self-serving,” Ned answered. “I am here to serve you, not me.”

A plop of water landed the bucket that had placed in the living room following last night’s storm.

“Well, could you serve me by fixing my roof?”

“Uh, no,” he scratched the fuzz behind one of his horns. “Can’t do that, as it’s part of the project.”

“Right, well, thanks for the coffee, Ned.” She took a sip, annoyed. To her surprise, the coffee was perfect. In fact, too perfect. It was as if it had been calibrated just to her liking. She’s not even sure she could have made it that way herself.

Ned read her thoughts. “Think of it as a little perk… You’re gonna need it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Never mind. I’ve got to leave for work soon, anyway.”

“Probably wanna leave early,” Ned suggested.

“Why? What did you do?!” Jillie glowered at him. Ned eyed the door leading to the garage. “Oh, you didn’t?” She grabbed her slip-on black shoes, which matched her otherwise bland black blazer and short skirt, stumbling as she attempted to walk and put them on at the same time.

She pressed the garage door button, and it opened without incident. “Thank God,” she muttered to herself, holding her breath. Jillie slid into the driver’s seat and cautiously started her little compact car. The car sputtered to life. She let out a sigh, but just as she put the car in reverse, it shook from side to side, as if taking its last breath, and died. “What the — ? This is a brand new car, Ned!” she yelled from the garage, even though it wasn’t likely he could hear her from the kitchen. Then she saw it — the gas gauge was on empty. Impossible, she thought to herself. I fill up whenever I get just under half a tank… That… Flibbertigibbet.”

Jillie slammed the car door shut, tucking the keys into her skirt pocket and bounding through the door leading back to the kitchen.

“What am I supposed to do now?” She yelled at Ned, who at this point had pilfered a croissant that she was saving for later from the fridge, and was busy adding a mountain of margarine to it with a knife.

“There’s always the bus,” Ned offered.

“The bus?” Jillie was appalled. “I haven’t taken the bus since high school,” she complained.

“What’s wrong with the buss?” Ned asked. “Sure, it might take a little longer to get you to the office, but you can relax, catch up on your meditation — ”

“But people will think — ”

“What will people think?” Ned challenged.

“That you can’t afford a car?”

“Well… Maybe.” Jillie whined.

“Snob,” Ned answered, taking a bite of the croissant.

“You have exactly six minutes to get to the bus stop, so I suggest you scoot.”

“I hate you, Ned!” Jillie stomped out the front door, slamming it behind her, angrily. Her cat, Rufas, sauntered out from the bedroom, stopping by Ned’s feet and flopping behind his heel, purring.

“No, you don’t,” Ned replied simply, looking down at Rufas and nodding.

*****

Jillie made it to the bus stop seconds before the driver closed the doors and pulled away.

“Hang on!” She yelled, racing to the door. The driver opened it and waited for Jillie to climb in. The heavyset woman looked bored, gazing through the windshield as if dreaming of another life. “How much?” Jillie asked.

The driver, surprised by the question, answered, “$1.73.”

Jillie sifted through her purse. “Uh, can you break a $50?”

“Do I look like Rockefeller?” The driver answered. “$1.73, exactly change only.”

“That seems like a strange policy for such an odd amount,” Jillie reasoned. “I mean, I could see if it were $2 — ” Just then, she heard a snickering from the back of the bus… Ned.

“Do you accept credit cards?” Jillie tried.

“What do you think?” The driver answered flatly, peering over her sunglasses. By then, a few mutters could be heard from the other passengers, some shifting in their seats impatiently. After all, they had places to be.

“I have money I can lend you,” a timid voice could be heard from the third row of the bus. Jillie looked to see a rather thin man with small, square wire glasses blinking timidly at her. He stood, folding back the magazine he was reading, so he wouldn’t lose his page and set it on his seat. He was about average height, only a few inches taller than Jillie, and roughly the same age. The man reached into his pocket and counted the change.“$1.73,” he announced quietly, handing it to the driver, who almost dropped the change on the floor.

“Just sit down,” she ordered, frustrated. They were now very off schedule, and she prided herself on being on schedule.

The man returned to his saved seat and resumed reading his magazine.

“Uh, thanks.” Jillie told him softly, taking the only other unoccupied seat on remaining on the bus — just across the aisle from where the man sat.

“Sure,” he answered, never lifting his eyes from the magazine. After a long pause, he added. “You can pay me back.”

“Oh, okay,” Jillie answered. So much for chivalry, she thought. “I don’t suppose you have change for a $50?

“Sorry, no.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. “But you can send an electronic payment.” He handed her the card. “My email is just below the number.”

Jillie accepted the card. It read, Miles Endecott, Environmental Researcher. See? Jillie thought to herself. Some people have nice normal business cards with normal-sounding names.

“Environmental researcher?” Jillie commented. “Well, that sound interesting.”

Miles blushed a little before returning once again to his magazine. He wasn’t fond of making eye contact, particularly not with a woman who he found not wholly unattractive.

Jillie sat back and crossed her legs. She began nervously kicking the back of the seat in front of her with her toe, absentmindedly, until the person in front looked over at Jillie, throwing her a death glare. Jillie stopped kicking. She glanced back at Miles, whose face was so buried in his magazine, the magazine seemed to swallow him up whole.

“What are you reading?” Jillie leaned across the aisle and asked.

Miles, whose pale complexion had a hint of rose in it now, looked up and answered, “It’s an article about cognitive dysfunctions.”

“Well,” Jillie smiled brightly. “That seems interesting.”

“Not really,” he mumbled, turning his gaze back toward his magazine. Jillie gave up, instead, sitting back and waiting impatiently for the bus to reach the stop she assumed was closest to work, and got off. As the bus pulled away, there was Ned, smiling out the back window and waving.

Jerk, she thought.

Jillie eyed her watch and realized she was already 35 minutes late. Great, she muttered to herself as she picked up the pace.

She reached the office building where she worked, only to witness a flood of police cars, one sheriff’s vehicle, and a swarm of officers, reporters, and her co-workers all gathered outside in the parking lot.

“Jillian!” A curly blonde-haired woman wearing an all-pink business suit came bounding toward her.

“Maxine,” Jillie addressed her friend and co-worker, surprised. “What the heck is going on?”

Jillie eyed her boss, Joshua Dunkel, as two officers flanked him on each side, escorting him toward one of the police cars.

“Of all the days you pick to be late,” Maxine stopped to catch her breath, putting her hands on her hips and heaving a little in and out to such in air. “Mr. Dunkel… all the C-suite execs, really … have been arrested with some money laundering scheme.” After a long pause, she added, “Including Darren.”

“What?!” Jillie shook her head in disbelief. “That’s not possible!”

But somewhere, in the back of her mind, Jillie remembered an odd conversation she had with her now ex-boyfriend, Darren, about some “business opportunity” his brother, their boss, Joshua, had presented to him.

“It’s the chance of a lifetime, babe,” Darren told her one evening after work. They had only been living together for about four months.

Darren, who did a fair job of pretending to work, was kept on as a department manager, most likely out of nepotism. Jillie had spent a fair bit of time working late, covering up for his mistakes. Now, he was asking her for money… a lot of it.

“I’m sorry, honey. You know I wanna be supportive, but it took me a really long time to save up $21,000. I don’t feel comfortable with this.”

“You never trusted me,” Darren sulked.

And that’s when the unraveling began. Darren became progressively moodier, and one day left, taking half of everything… half the furniture, half the electronics, even half the dinnerware — which made no sense since they were hers to start with and were part of a set.

“Earth to Jillie!” Maxine waved a hand in front of her friend’s face, bringing her back into the present. “It gets worse!”

“Worse… how?” Jillie asked, cautiously. Jillie glanced up to see Ned leaning against an oak tree on the center island, picking his teeth with the nail on his pinky finger. She looked back at Maxine.

“The office is shut down until further notice — ”

“Just great,” Jillie threw her hands in the air.

“Including the payroll department,” Maxine finished. “So, we’re both out of work and not getting paid for the last two weeks.”

“I’m afraid so.” Maxine’s face dropped before it suddenly lit up again. “But look on the bright side!” She smiled. Maxine was a bundle of optimism, which Jillie found annoying sometimes. Today was one of those times.

“And what would that be?” Jillie answered, flatly.

“At least it’s not like any of us were involved, and it looks like they won’t ask for us to return our past paychecks, seeing as we thought we were legit writers for a legit magazine.”

“Wait… what?” Jillie answered.

“Oh, the magazine is really a magazine… but it was just a cover for something else… whatever they had going on.”

Suddenly only one thing was going through Jillie’s mind… $21,000. “Uh, Maxine? Seeing as we’re not getting back to work soon, any chance you can give me a lift back to my house?”

“Sure,” Maxine agreed, pleasantly. “But, what happened to your car?”

“Don’t ask,” Jillie answered, grimly. Jillie returned home to find that the leak had gotten worse. Time to face the inevitable.

She had to call her brother. “Yell-o,” he answered on the first ring.

“Is that Jillian?” A voice called from the other end of the phone line. Jillian’s sister-in- law, Shawna.

“Yup!” Her brother was almost as enthusiastic as Maxine, except with two major flaws. One, he was oblivious to just about everything, and two, he was married to the most self- absorbed woman Jillie had ever met, the kind of woman who drama seemed to follow wherever she went… not that Jillie could point fingers at the moment, given her present situation.

“Listen, Kevin,” Jillie began. “I hate to bother you but — ”

“It’s about the roof, isn’t it?” Kevin asked.

“Yes, but how did you — ”

“Shawna drove by your house today, just to see how you were getting on after the storm. She noticed the damage to the shingles. I can come take a look at it tomorrow.”

A phone call would have sufficed. Jillie thought. But Shawna made regular rounds through everybody’s neighborhood, it seemed. She enjoyed being on the pulse of the latest gossip. “Okay, thanks — ”

“Don’t mention it,” Kevin’s voice boomed through the receiver. “I won’t even charge you full price… I’m kidding!” He laughed at his own joke.

Kevin made more money than God, and if he did any work for you for free, you got to hear about it — forever.

“Thanks, Kevin.” She answered before the two said their goodbyes.

Jillie instinctively reached into her jacket to remove her car keys, more out of habit than anything else. Obviously, they weren’t there. What was there, however, was a business card… Miles Endecott’s business card.

“Let it never be said that I don’t honor my debts,” Jillie said aloud.

The phone rang so many times, she expected it to go to voicemail, when finally, “Hullo?” a timid voice answered.

“Hi, this is the girl from the bus, the one who owes you $1.73?”

“Oh, right,” Miles acknowledged. “I thought you were the guy I was trying to get in touch with about renting a room.”

“No… I” Jillie looked up at the ceiling, where a large water stain was appearing. Suddenly, an image flashed through her mind of Darren having taken over the spare bedroom and filling it with cheap guitars, old car parts and assorted computer monitors and cables he thought he might need one day. The room had been such a mess that the day after he left, she called to have the carpet replaced, painted the walls and converted it into a spare bedroom — just to rid the place of his energy. “You need a room? Jillie asked.

“Well, yeah,” Miles replied. “I’m new in town and I found some guy named Ned online who said he could rent me a room until I got settled. I’m starting a new job in a few days. Only, now I’ve booked a room at a motel for the night cuz he suddenly ghosted me, and I’ve got nowhere to go.”

Jillie sucked in her breath… Ned.

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Miles. It just so happens that I have a room for rent at my house. It’s off of Orchard lane, near the bus stop. You can stay here until you get settled.” Jillie couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth, as she wasn’t inclined to invite strangers into her home. “What was Ned gonna charge you?”

“$600 a month, including utilities… but, are you sure about this?”

“Of course. I need a tenant. You need a place to stay. Why not?” “Cuz your a — your a — ” “Girl?” Jillie finished. “Well, yeah.”

“Your room is on the other end of the house, and you’d have your own bathroom. We just have to share the kitchen and living room. I promise you, it’ll be fine. Why don’t you stop by tomorrow to see the place?” Another droplet feel from the ceiling. “But I would need the rent money up front,” she confirmed.

“Right,” Miles answered. “$598.27.”

“What?” Jillie was confused. Then she realized it… Miles was paying rent, less $1.73.

COACHING PROMPT

ACTIVITY: In chapter 2, Jillie has to adapt to an unbelievable work situation — one that’s likely to stress her for the foreseeable future. This session is an exercise in finding the humor in stressful situations. Recall an event that you found stressful. Write the story as fiction, exaggerating and embellishing it as much as possible. The goal is to lessen the event’s impact on your wellbeing by finding the humor.

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“A Necessary Evil” Copyright © Oct. 11, 2022 by Danielle Palli and Birdland Media Works, LLC