Hers was a life of near misses. She was not expecting to see twenty-five, and did everything in her power to see that she did not. Yet, twenty-five came, then, fifty. She survived, but so did the dread.
Sure, there was relief along the way. A love story, or something like it. Plus, a handful of instances when it looked like her dancing career might take off. There was some enthusiastic press coverage and a number of illustrious critics championed her as the Next Big Thing, over the decades.
She felt guilty being ungrateful, having been spared an early death or scandal, but... Here she was, half a century old, winded and not sure what to do next.
"Ms Take" asked a gentleman's voice, over her shoulder. She gasped a little when she turned around to see a familiar face almost pressed against hers. The mysterious stranger did not pull back, nor blink. Smiling, softly, he reached out and pressed a small black notebook into her palm.
"What's this?" she stammered "Who are you? "What's going on?" But the bold man with the sensitive eyes did not wait to answer her questions and disappeared into the crowd. As though in a daze, she turned over the dark notebook in her hand and was further amazed to see her name, embossed on the cover in attractive gilded letters.
She experienced a sensation she'd known before, only more acutely, this time: a sharp stab of excitement mixed with terror. She needed to leave this gala, at once; she needed to get air.
Outside, she took a big gulp of the night, the way she had of champagne--before fleeing the fancy event she was invited to. The smell of rain calmed her, as did being alone and quiet. Leaning against a palm tree, she turned the notebook over in her hands, repeatedly. What might its contain?
This was no trivial matter, she sensed. Bracing herself, she pulled the cover back and flipped through the first few onion-thin pages. Blank. On the fifth page, she found a small note, folded in half. Her throat felt constricted and she loosened the scarf wrapped around her neck.
Moving closer to the streetlamp, she unfolded the note, and discovered it was, in fact, a check. $20,000 made out to her!
She exhaled, loudly, and collapsed onto the nearby bench (nevermind, that it was slightly wet from the rain). The light was better, here, and she could see that in the pages where she'd found the check, there was a message addressed to her. But, it was faint, so faint, she had to strain to read it.
This is long overdue. There is no time left to waste, you must change your life.
She read it, slowly, reverently, as if it was scripture, with a sense of imminent revelation. She was at a point in her life past the time when accidents might still happen to her. This was destiny, she felt. Just as she would accept this check as a gift from the heavens, she knew she must do whatever this message from the Universe asked of her.
Taking a deep breath and steadying herself, she continued reading:
You must never dance, again. Use the money enclosed to put your affairs in order. By the end of this week, be prepared to join the convent. You will find the address of your new home on the check.
Helplessly, in a state of ecstasy, she slid off the bench and dropped to her knees, weeping, silently. There was nothing else left for her. Her prayers were answered.
