The Wallet

Jason found it wedged into the folded-up child seat of the shopping cart. A woman’s, the wallet was cheap and plastic, with a zipper handle shaped like a heart. Opening it, the first things to notice were the $100 bills. They were crisp and looked unused. Jason had to lick his fingertips to pull them apart. He counted 15. So far, so good – he hoped not to find any identification so he could keep the money with a clean conscience.

Moving on, Jason found frequent-shopper cards for a couple of discount clothing stores and a 50%-off coupon for a plate of potato ravioli at a restaurant in Ukrainian Village. Beginning in his head to decide what to spend the money on, Jason got to the last card in the pile: a driver’s license. He was crestfallen – either returning the money, or suffering the guilt of not returning it, was going to make him unhappy. But the license did provide one piece of good news: Kelly Finnegan was 26 years old, one year younger than Jason, and, at least by the variable standards of a driver’s license photo, attractive. Kelly’s address was nowhere near Jason’s apartment, but Jason decided he could swing by after work the next day to return it.

Back in his apartment Jason sat down at the computer to see what he could learn about his new girlfriend. As it turned out, Kelly Finnegan was a common name, but no one else so labeled lived at the right address or looked like his Kelly. He played with the search parameters for 30 minutes, trying to get to know her better. He found nothing.

Jason stood up to leave, thought for a moment, and sat back down. A couple of mouse clicks later the filters on his browser were off, and the trail warmed up. Several links to a Playboy-affiliated site called GirlsU now topped the search results. Jason clicked on one and the screen filled with a picture of his objective. It was Kelly – all of her. She was nude and seated on a pool table, her knees in separate zip codes. Jason stared, in love.

***

Arrived at the office the next day, a couple people noticed that Jason didn’t look quite as sloppy as he usually did. “Big date later?” asked Stefan.

Jason answered simply, “Yes.” He saw no reason to explain the GirlsU website.

But his preparation was for naught. After work Jason made his way to Kelly Finnegan’s address only to find an empty construction site. With no way to track her down, Jason’s dreams of an attractive, and uninhibited, girlfriend were not to be realized. Jason mourned – but on the plus side, he was now $1,500 richer.

***

Over the next two weeks Jason did nothing with the wallet, as it was hard to drop the idea that someday he could use it to win her love. He went through it one more time and saw that the potato ravioli coupon would be expiring soon. Thinking that using the coupon would help him reach closure with Kelly, he decided to visit the restaurant for brunch on Sunday.

The Ukrainian Kitchen was a holdover from an earlier era. While other restaurants in the gentrifying neighborhood had moved to granite, brushed stainless steel, and exposed brick, this place had wood, linoleum, and plastic siding. The TV hanging from the ceiling blared a Ukrainian news program. Jason sat down at a wobbly table.

A babushka of a waitress dropped a menu in front of Jason and said something he couldn’t understand. Maybe it was in Ukrainian. “Could you repeat that?” Jason asked.

“You vant a vodka?” The babushka asked with Slavic impatience. It was 10:30 on a Sunday morning.

“Sure. And I have this coupon for the ravioli.” Jason handed it over. The waitress examined it as if there had been a rash of potato ravioli coupon forgeries recently. Grumbling, she left.

In a few minutes Jason was sipping a glass of cold vodka and trying to figure out what the Ukrainian news anchor was talking about. Glancing back to the bar, his heart jumped when he saw the profile of a woman who had just sat down. Kelly? The woman turned, giving Jason a better view of her face, and he saw that it wasn’t her. But she looked similar enough to Jason’s almost-girlfriend that he thought it was worth a shot.

Jason approached her, “Excuse me, but you don’t happen to be related to Kelly Finnegan, do you?”

“Vhat? Voo? Voo are you?” The woman appeared distracted, and annoyed that Jason was talking to her. Her Eastern European accent added to her already substantial appeal.

“I’m Jason.” He offered a hand, which she ignored. “You look like a friend of mine, Kelly Finnegan. So much so that I thought you might be related to her. A cousin or something.”

“No. I ‘av no relatives vis zat name.” But she was looking at Jason more closely. Just as he thought that the situation might be going somewhere, he noticed that an aircraft carrier in a leather jacket was now standing next to him. He stood close enough for Jason to know it was time to say, “Okay. My mistake.” Jason returned to his table.

Jason’s raviolis arrived soon thereafter. He ate them, but all of his concentration was focused on picking up pieces of the conversation between Kelly’s doppelganger and the mountain she was talking to. Their conversation was mostly in Ukrainian, but periodically an English phrase would leak out. It was not a conversation between two old friends. The big guy was upset about something and Other Kelly was trying to explain.

Jason couldn’t figure anything out until, in a louder voice, the hulk said “Feefteen hundred dollars. I vant my feefteen hundred dollars.” He downed his drink, slammed the glass on the bar, and stormed out of the restaurant.

Kelly II remained at the bar, staring straight ahead. After a minute she got up and walked to the restroom, leaving her coat on the back of her chair. Jason thought fast – his second glass of vodka helping him along. On a paper napkin, he wrote “$1500 wallet?” and added his cell phone number. Checking that the babushkas weren’t KGBing him, Jason hopped up, stuffed the napkin into an inside pocket on the coat, and sat back down.

Jason finished his raviolis and asked for the check as $1,500 Kelly returned. Jason paid, got up, and nodded at the new mystery in his life as he walked out the door. She ignored him.

***

Jason received no calls, neither that afternoon, nor over the course of the next week. Just in case Pierogi Girl did contact him and he had to go out on an emergency date, Jason had been dressing better for work. Stefan noticed. “Who is this girl that is turning you respectable?” Jason only mumbled something about not being sure if it was going anywhere.

And indeed, it went nowhere. By the following week, Jason’s romantic hopes had finally deflated. Bereaved, he reverted to his native state.

“Uh, oh,” said Stefan, as Jason walked in the door on Monday morning, “You look like a slob again. That can’t be a good sign.” Jason grimaced.

Later that afternoon when it came time to leave, Jason was happy to see Stefan wasn’t at his desk – Jason wouldn’t have to run the fashion-critique gauntlet on his way to the door.

Headed for the exit, Jason wasn’t paying attention when he plowed into a fast-moving Stefan coming around the corner. Jason stumbled backwards. Stefan fell as well; the folder he was carrying soared high into the air and its contents floated to the ground like giant confetti.

“Sorry, man,” said Jason, offering a hand. “I didn’t see you.”

A dazed Stefan replied it was no big deal. Feeling guilty, Jason grabbed the manila folder and began gathering the papers that had flown about, stuffing them back into the folder.

“Oh, no,” said Stefan, trying to grab the folder, “it’s okay. I’ve got it.”

It was at that moment Jason saw, amongst the detritus of the crash, the 100-dollar bills. Crisp ones. His eyes working fast, Jason counted 15 of them.

Stefan staggered past Jason and swept the remaining sheets of paper and the money into a pile. He snatched the folder out of Jason’s hands and shoveled the pile into it.

“Um, yeah. Okay,” was all Jason could come up with.

With his sheets of paper and $1,500 now back in the folder, Stefan was more composed. “Well, you’re quite the linebacker today.” In a theatrically deep voice Stefan added, “Good game out there, Biff. Now hit the showers.” Stefan laughed at his own joke and returned to his desk.

Jason walked down the hall, thinking as hard as he could. He stopped in front of the elevators, but didn’t press the button. Jason couldn’t accept that the 15 $100s were a coincidence, but he couldn’t decide what to do either.

After a minute or two, the first coherent course of action coalesced in Jason’s head. He returned to the office and approached Stefan at his desk.

“Hey, Stefan. Sorry again about the crash. You okay?”

Surprised at the concern, Stefan answered, “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

Jason turned to his plan. “By the way, I meant to ask you: I know you go out to eat a lot. I was wondering if you had a recommendation for a good place to get potato raviolis.”

Stefan raised his eyebrows and smiled, “Do you mean pierogis? No, I have no idea. Snails in a lemon-cream sauce, or saffron eggplant galettes, then, yes, I can help. But pierogis? No.”

“Oh.” Jason was disappointed – Stefan hadn’t shown the slightest bit of concern that Jason might be onto something. He thought of one more tack.

“You don’t happen to know a girl named Kelly Finnegan, do you?”

Stefan’s bemusement only increased. “Kelly Finnegan? No, I don’t know her. Should I?”

Jason hadn’t planned this far ahead and was now ad-libbing. “It’s that girl you keep asking me about. I think she’s from Ukraine. She lost her wallet and maybe those potato things would cheer her up.”

“I wish I could help,” said Stefan.

“Oh.” Jason had no idea what to say. They looked at each other for a moment. “So, see you tomorrow.” Jason turned and left. This time he managed to press the elevator call button. Embarrassed at his poorly executed interrogation of Stefan, Jason moped home.

***

Back in his apartment Jason couldn’t stop thinking about how he had set himself up for a very uncomfortable ride at work over the next week or two. Stefan was probably going to tell everyone in the office about Jason’s girlfriend with the potato fetish, which wouldn’t be so bad if he actually had a girlfriend. But Jason would soon be defending the honor of someone who didn’t exist.

Jason’s phone rang. Worrying about the fallout from his conversation with Stefan, Jason hadn’t had his usual focus on the phone issue, so when he said, “Hello?” his voice came out much too high.

A pause. “I am to calling because you to find my vallet?”

“Uhhh….” was Jason’s stunned response.

“Yes?” the caller prompted.

Coming to his senses, Jason finally managed a “Kelly?”, this time in a deeper voice.

“Vhat?”

“Is this Kelly?”

“Um, yes. Zees eez Kelly.”

A wave of suspicion rolled over Jason. Was this the girl from the Ukrainian restaurant? Was she really Kelly after all? Why would a woman with an Irish name have a Ukrainian accent? He decided a little more cleverness was in order. “Kelly Smith?” he baited.

The annoyed sigh from the other end was audible. “No. Zees eez Kelly Finnegan. Please. I am only to vant my vallet return.”

Jason thought for a moment. A lot was going on, so he told himself to ignore the distractions and focus on the real goal: getting a date with a Playboy model, or at least, someone who looked like a close relative of one.

“Sure. Meet me at The Bean tomorrow at six o’clock, after work.”

“Can I please to get it now? I am near to zee California Avenue el stop.” Jason’s spine gave way.

“Oh, I guess that’s okay.” Instead of a romantic rendezvous downtown at sunset, he would be meeting her at a grimy train station in the dark.

“Meet to me after 30 minutes.” And she hung up.

***

Jason put the wallet into a backpack and walked to the bus stop. He considered his options. There weren’t many. He hadn’t extracted any concessions from Kelly, or whoever she was, in exchange for the return of the wallet. All he wanted was to parlay the return of the wallet into a date, but what leverage did he have? “You can have your $1,500 back if you go out on a date with me” seemed a bad idea. “I believe I owe you some half-price pierogis” wasn’t much of an improvement. No, Jason would have to do better than that.

The ride went fast. As the bus closed in on the California el stop. Jason took a deep breath and got ready. But halfway across the final intersection, the bus stopped. Jason looked around. There were construction barricades blocking part of the road and the cars coming from the cross-streets had gridlocked the bus. They were trapped.

It took only a few seconds for the cacophony of honking to reach jet engine levels. One rider tried to exit out the back, but the driver wouldn’t unlock the door in the middle of traffic. The passenger and the driver argued while the gridlock tightened. Jason could see some flashing lights and soon there were policemen trying to untangle the mess.

From his vantage point Jason couldn’t see the front of the California Avenue el station, but he could see the Currency Exchange right next to it, and the vacant storefront next to that, which, judging by the posters in the window, used to be a Hispanic video rental establishment.

Unable to go forward, some of the cars were just turning around and driving back the way they came. One car made a U-turn on Milwaukee Avenue and its headlights briefly lit up the dark entryway to the ex-video rental store. Jason blinked. Stefan?

The entryway was dark again and Jason couldn’t verify what he thought he had seen. No other cars made a U-turn in the right place and he didn’t get another look.

Was this a setup? A coincidence? So many thoughts vied to be the first into his head that Jason couldn’t choose among them.

Eventually the police had cleared enough of the traffic for the bus to inch forward. The station came into view. There was no mistaking the hot Ukrainian standing out front.

Jason slouched down in his seat. He still had no solid theories, but something was up, and he didn’t want to walk into a trap. Sprawled horizontal on the bus seat, he hid himself from any observer outside the bus.

The bus pulled up to the station. Passengers got off and on. It wasn’t until the bus pulled away that both Jason and his wits came out from hiding. At the next stop, two blocks away, he got off the bus, and ran down a side street. Jason’s plan was to circle back around, behind the station, and spy on Stefan from the same vantage he had when he was on the bus.

What could Stefan possibly be up to? Why the secrecy? What was going on with $1,500 in new bills? Jason asked himself these questions, but not with exasperation or frustration. Running down the street in the crisp evening air, a mystery afoot, chasing a beautiful Ukrainian spy, who may or may not be involved with a Playboy model, Jason enjoyed an exhilaration he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Because of the train station in the way, there was no cross street until twice the usual distance. That cross street also turned out to be a double-long, and it ran at an odd angle to the usual 90 degree corners of Chicago’s street grid. Undaunted, Jason galloped on. He took his next right. In the spotty shadows of the street lights he couldn’t see that it was a dead-end until he was almost at the big embankment cutting off the street. Jason doubled-back, slowing a bit now. He found an alley pointing, probably, in the right direction. Off he went. The alley made two wiggly turns. When Jason finally jogged out onto the open again he wasn’t exactly sure which street he was on, or which direction he was facing.

Nearby, an older woman walked a small dog. Jason huffed up to her. “Excuse me, which way is Milwaukee Avenue?”

The woman, and her dog, looked at Jason. When she spoke, it was in a language Jason assumed to be Ukrainian – everything sounded like Ukrainian now. She was probably explaining that she couldn’t understand him. Jason uselessly thanked her and looked around for a clue.

Jason’s phone rang. He recognized Kelly’s phone number. “Hello?”.

“Vhere ar-r-r-e you?”

Jason could listen to her roll her Rs all day long. “I’m coming. The back door on the bus wouldn’t open.” Jason made a mental note to work on his lies.

“Please to hurry. I am not liking to vait here.” The call ended.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Jason took off again. He arrived at the next intersection, got his bearings, and saw that, once more, he had run in the wrong direction. And he was getting sweaty. Showing up in front of Kelly smelling like a pig was not going to help his cause. Still, Jason made a right turn and kept at it.

Crossing a street, Jason was both surprised and dismayed to see he was back on the same block he had been on earlier – there was the old woman with the dog again. Jason slowed to a deliberate walk – for some reason he would have felt embarrassed running past her a second time.

With the woman and the dog still several houses away, a taxi pulled up in front of them. In the light of a street lamp, Jason saw a man get out, and Jason hopped behind a tree. The man was Stefan. Stefan spoke to the old woman for a moment, then returned to the cab and offered a hand to another passenger. Ukrainian Kelly got out. The taxi left. Stefan, Kelly, and the old woman entered the house.

Peeking from behind his tree, Jason saw no more movement. His excitement returned. Was Kelly in trouble? It would be so cool if Jason rescued her from the Ukrainian mafia. Was Stefan in the Ukrainian mafia? It seemed unlikely, but Jason knew Stefan had been in the drama club in college, so maybe the accountant gig was just an act.

Moving from tree to tree, Jason approached the house. It was an older frame house, towered over on both sides by sparkling new 3-flat greystone townhouses. If they really wanted to make some money, they should just raze this old dump and build condos instead, was Jason’s unspoken advice to the Ukrainian mafia’s CFO.

A small patch of grass in the front passed for a yard. A neglected and overgrown shrub sat in the corner of the four-step staircase leading to the door and the front of the house. With as much nonchalance as he could muster, Jason looked around. Seeing no one, he made a quick dive behind the bush.

There were prickers on the bush that Jason hadn’t seen in the dark. He was raked pretty good on his way in, and the ground back there was damp – Jason could feel the moisture seeping through the knees on his pants as he crawled to the back corner.

Now seated, with his back against the house and hidden by the ugly shrub, Jason wiggled to retrieve his phone from his pocket. He called Kelly’s number.

” ‘Ello?” came Kelly’s eventual answer.

“Kelly, I’m here. Where are you?”

There was a pause. “I deed not tink you ver to come. So vee left.” Kelly had either slipped or was trying to send Jason a message for help.

“We?” asked Jason. “Are you with someone? Are you okay?” Then, lowering his voice, “Do you need help?”

Kelly sighed – Jason couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of duress or not. “No,” she replied.

Jason sought clarification. “No, you don’t need help? Or, no, you are not okay?”

A little sharper, Kelly responded. “I not need help. I am vees my husband.”

Jason’s heart deflated and his thoughts scattered. Husband? Jason no longer noticed his wet pants, or the thorns stuck in his arms, or the wail of the car alarm that went off halfway down the block.

Husband? Jason just couldn’t process the word. Had she really been leading him on this whole time? Reeling from the news, several seconds passed before he noticed that the line had gone dead. The door to the house opened, and Stefan walked out onto the stoop, right above Jason. Stefan held a cell phone in his hand, and he pressed a button. Jason’s phone started ringing.

“Damn it,” hissed Jason, his spy career in tatters.

“Jason? What the hell are you doing down there?”

Jason had to think fast. “A better question might be: what are you doing up there?”

“That’s not a better question. Get out of there.”

Jason didn’t see a lot of alternatives, so he got up and exited the safety of the shrub, taking some more thorns with him. The girl Jason had met at the Ukrainian restaurant and seen at the California Avenue train stop – Kelly, presumably – and the dog lady were in the foyer, peering out from behind the door, looking apprehensive.

Stefan stared at Jason. “Why in the world are you here?”

Jason decided he wasn’t going down without a fight. “You said you were gay!”

Jason must have found a sweet spot, because Stefan looked up and down the street before saying, “Will you come inside, please?” although it was more of an order than a polite request. Jason didn’t detect any immediate threat, so accepted the invitation and entered the house. Dog Lady and Kelly moved aside to let him pass, though their trepidation had not waned.

Jason walked into the cozy living room. Every horizontal surface was covered with a lace doily and a religious icon. Two different crucifixion wall-hangings competed to remind Jason of his sins. A pair of couches and a chair bordered an oval throw rug. Three lamps cast the room in a sepia glow.

Jason sat down on one of the couches. The other three took seats as well, staring at him.

Stefan began. “So, enlighten us, Jason. Why were you hiding in the bush in the front yard?”

“I wasn’t hiding. I was checking to see if I needed to rescue Kelly.” Jason gestured with his hand toward the damsel.

“Rescue? From what were you going to rescue her?” Stefan asked.

Jason changed the subject. “How did you know I was here? Do you often find people hiding in the bushes?”

Stefan rolled his eyes. “No, you’re the first visitor to crawl behind the shrub instead of knocking on the door.” Stefan waited for Jason to process the sarcasm, then continued. “We knew you were here because we heard the car alarm outside and on the phone at the same time.” Jason thought about that for a moment, surprised that Stefan’s answer made sense.

Assumptions that had seemed perfectly plausible to Jason while he was hiding, both on the bus and in the front yard, were beginning to fall apart under scrutiny in the soft light of the doilied living room. Looking at Stefan, Jason decided to put his cards down. “I saw you hiding in the video rental place. I knew something was up because of the fifteen hundred dollars in your folder, same as in the wallet. So the whole thing was looking weird. I just wanted to see what was going on before I gave it back.” Jason removed the pack from his back, took out the wallet, and handed it to Kelly. Her eyes were wide with surprise at seeing it again, and opened even further when she found it still contained most of the original contents – if she noticed the missing ravioli coupon, she didn’t say anything.

As Kelly’s demeanor softened, Jason turned on Stefan. “So you’re married? To a woman? What the hell?”

Stefan looked around the room. Kelly gave him a small nod. He began. “This is Tatiana. This is my aunt, Olga.” Upon hearing her name, the woman nodded at Jason.

“Tatiana is from Ukraine. She wants to immigrate to the United States. That process goes much faster if one is married to an American. Our families are from the same village, so we have an agreement where we get married, wait a couple years for Tatiana’s application to be processed and finalized, and then get divorced.”

Jason found that sort of interesting, but he was mostly focused on the revelation that Tatiana, nee Kelly, was probably available. Still, for his own health and safety, he had to clear something up. “The guy you were talking to at the restaurant, that was your real husband?”

Tatiana answered, “No. Heez name eez Andrey. He eez to working for Ukrainian mafia.” Jason nodded, impressed with himself that he had gotten one element of the story almost right. “He bring me to Chicago, and I must to pay heem zee last part. Else they do bad to my family in Ukraine.” Sweet, thought Jason, she is available.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment. Tatiana finally added, “It was kind of you zee vallet to return.”

Stefan added, “Also, if you would mind not telling anyone about this arrangement, that would be helpful.”

“Yeah, sure,” agreed Jason. But he needed one more thing explained. Turning to Tatiana, he asked, “Why do you have Kelly Finnegan’s driver’s license?”

Tatiana hesitated, and turned a pretty shade of pink. “I, um, I was in place of drinking. I see Kelly, and zat we are looking close.” Tatiana made a circular motion with her hand around her face. “She was to drink too much. She leave vallet on table ven she fall to floor. I take eet, for to have driver’s license, for police and such.” A little concerned, Tatiana asked, “You are friends vees Kelly? You must to return zee vallet?”

“No. I was just wondering why you had a Playboy model’s driver’s license.”

Tatiana didn’t understand, but a smile crept across Stefan’s face. “Wait a sec, that wallet belonged to a Playboy model?”

“Sort of. Not one of the centerfold ones. She posed for one of their ancillary websites.”

Stefan put it together immediately. “You found the wallet, googled the name, and saw her picture. That’s why you did all this?” Stefan’s grin was about to break his face in two.

Getting defensive, Jason responded, “Well, after the restaurant I knew she wasn’t the same person, and I did all this anyway.” But Stefan was no longer listening. He was chattering in Ukrainian to Tatiana and Olga, presumably explaining what might appear on a Playboy b-list website. Olga burst out laughing and Tatiana’s complexion progressed from pink to a deep burgundy.

Jason stood, and nodded to Stefan and Olga. “I’m glad I was able to amuse you.” He wasn’t thirsty, but asked Stefan, “May I have a glass of water?”

Still chuckling, Stefan got up and walked to the kitchen. Jason had no idea how to get Aunt Olga out of the room too, but since she didn’t understand English, it was acceptable that she remain.

Jason stepped in front of Tatiana, and took her hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you again.” Jason didn’t have a lot of opportunities for big, dramatic exits, so he wanted to make the most of this one. He kissed the back of Tatiana’s hand, and purred, “Welcome to America. You are probably bored with your husband by now. And since I owe you a plate of half-price ravioli,” – Jason paused, remembering that was the line he was not supposed to use – “I will do one better. Tomorrow Stefan will tell me where the best snails with a lemon cream sauce can be found in Chicago. Then I will call you and arrange to take you there.” Tatiana gaped, in stunned surprise.

Stefan returned with the water. Jason downed it, then nodded his adieu at Aunt Olga, who looked thoroughly confused. He handed the glass back to Stefan and said, “Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.” Finally, he turned to Tatiana, gave her a thumbs-up, and said, “Snails.” Jason turned and strode out the door.

Intoxicated with thoughts of future possibilities, Jason floated all the way back to the bus stop, getting lost only once along the way.

 

Bio: Father of three and husband of one, Todd Wells plays an upright bass, hosts international visitors through US Department of State exchange programs, and enjoys being patted down by TSA personnel at Midway and O’Hare airports. He writes about all of those things at traveldiaryofamadman.com