Quarters

Fridays are an especially selfish day to perform her signature good deed. Mondays seem more desperate for unexpected delight. Fridays are pay days and fun vacation days. Who needs a pick me up on a Friday?!? But never the less, Monday she had to take the cat to the vet and Wednesday was too busy at the shop to sneak away. But a good deed is a good deed, so at 12:45pm she grabbed her sunglasses and coat and headed to the bank with her ten-dollar bill. Kitty traded her ten for a roll of quarters and headed up the hill towards the post office. She liked to do New Chardon. She imagined that those fighting for the protection of their children from deadbeat mothers and fathers were sticking it out in the overheated stuffy court rooms, saying to themselves, “Fuck the metermaid, this is my KID we are talking about!” 

She came to the first meter and frowned. Same graffiti stickers as always. Deliberate scarring of the landscape, although her mother would be fond of pointing out that revolution has often been initiated and kept alive at the tit of vandalism. The names change, but some were particularly resilient, hanging on through a long wet winter and a huge dry summer. The letters faded, the UPS logo changed from black and yellow honey bee to gray and canary washed out nightmare. Kitty doubted that “ Ryze” or “Alert” were rebelling against anything except curfew.

After consulting the digital readout and noting that only two quarters were needed to max out the time on the meter, she entered the quarters and continued on to the next pole. Wondering what others thought of the small girl in a red coat stopping at meters and plugging quarters in was not her business. Kitty had an almost uncomfortable need to do something good, something special that no one else had ever done. Had anyone ever made it a point to feed meters each week? It’s a small smile, but still a victory when someone climbs out of their car and sees they only need the single quarter they were hoping would go the distance. Some would return to their car, just waiting for the flash of the orange parking ticket on the dash, only to see that the full-time, minus minutes was still available on the meter. And if, perchance, one of those surprised by this strange positive breeze were to look up and down the street, would it even occur to them? They might actually let their imagination stretch, let a realization dawn, that someone proactively made such a small happy happen (I mean, why else would HAPPy and HAPPen be so similar in spelling?). Such cheerful thoughts were part of her nature. Action was key.

Kitty was not hopeful that this would take place. She thought it better to be like the Catholic saints. They never did anything to be noticed in their sacrifice. It was enough to feel the euphoria of doing good in a world where it’s much easier to be self-serving, or “bad”. 

Many think of “good” and “bad” in this abstract way. Everyone looks out for number one, what’s best for them since the world doesn’t owe you any favors. The platitudes and T-shirt slogans are endless. No one remembers that whilst they are fighting and scratching and saving and clawing to “make it”, there is something missing. Souls hunger for completion. Just as we need water and food to survive, we need good deeds. Kitty would nod her head emphatically if she thought this to herself. But if this sentiment was spoken out loud to a customer at the store she would gesture wildly, making it evident it was practically her religion. 

Capitalism, bureaucracy, religion, karma. All our most important systems have checks and balances. Some people save whole civilizations, giving their very lives for the sake of a dying culture. I put quarters in meters, she would think to herself. Not to make herself the same as some of the greatest sufferers, but just to put it out there that she too was doing what she could, was helping the real big givers shoulder the workload.

The next one was timed out, and Kitty started to hum a tune. On this day it was Maxwell Silver Hammer. The songs of the Beatles appealed to her because of the quaint ideas, the corny ideals and the exaltation of love as the solution to all. She was a better person with each quarter. She passed by a double pole with two meters on it, both paid completely. She rubbed two quarters together in her palm. Kitty checked her watch. She still had plenty of quarters and tried to make it a rule to use them all before returning to the store.  And it was a beautiful day even if it was cold.

“What are you doing?” A young man she had not noticed in the car next to the meter said through his passenger side window.

“What? Oh, I was putting quarters in the meter.” She was flustered and more than a little embarrassed about being “caught”. The irony of feeling guilty about doing something nice made her chuckle a little at the end of her response.

“Why?” His voice had the suspicious edge of the razor blade Boston accent. Doubt of true altruism was typical around here. She almost “tsk”ed aloud at his gruff barking. This would not be the first time someone would ask her. But it was the first time she decided to be truthful.

“To be nice. No tickets for a little while at least.” She gave him a smile and walked away. It had been a productive walk.

She was finished with the street. It had been a busy day; all her quarters were gone, including a couple of loosies hanging out in her pockets. She turned around to admire her work, looking up the windswept street. People were coming and going at a frantic pace. Kitty heard laughter a couple of cars up and smiled, imagining someone enjoying the unexpected existence of a full meter. Time. A gift of time, to walk and look at the beautiful architecture of the Ma Bell building, the historical plaques sprinkled about the old cobble stone and brick buildings, the gardens at MGH. The thought made her happy and she was thinking of grabbing a sandwich at Uptown, and carrying it to City Hall plaza to eat, as ugly as it is.

Behind Kitty a car jumped the curb and came barreling up the sidewalk. The commotion was lost in the din of the city, and the satisfied musings of her mind. She turned at the last second as the Cadillac bore down on her. Three meters were wiped out before her. Quarters pooled around the broken devices like silver fish in a concrete ocean.