Back to the Foothills – I Confess
By Monrovia Weekly
Published: Thursday, March 27th, 2008
I’ve been married to Benjie for a very long time. I think what has made our relationship such a success is mutual respect and honesty, and yet… I have found that sometimes a little white lie is easier than trying to explain. Some might call it fibbing, but I like to think of it as more of a life simplification system. But then again, sometimes those innocent fibs can blow up in your face.
A while ago, as I was dashing out the door for an afternoon of shopping, Benjie handed me some bills he wanted me to make sure I put in the mail before 5:00. I took the stack with every intention of doing as he asked. But before I knew it, there I was at the traffic light waiting to get on the freeway, with the post office far behind. Surely, there must be a mailbox in Pasadena that picks up until 5:00. And so the light changed and fate took over.
Unfortunately, my zeal for bargain hunting took over and promptly I forgot all about the mail. By 4:45 my arms weighed down with packages, I reached inside my purse for my keys and felt the stack of mail. My heart sank. I had broken my promise. Frantic, I ran searching for a mailbox. Like a fish going against the current, I made my way up crowded Colorado Boulevard.
With no time to spare I spied a mailbox. Alas, I had missed the pick-up. “Oh well,” I thought and popped them in anyway. I had tried, kinda.
All of a sudden there was a multitude of fire trucks, police cars with sirens blaring and television trucks. My cell phone began ringing. There was chaos in the air. So concerned I would get caught on TV with my hands in the mailbox after 5:00, I quickly fled the scene.
When I got home I said nothing about missing the mail, although it was hard to hide my shock when Benjie asked if I was near the shooting. Shooting? I had missed fate’s first bullet.
Ironically, the next day Benjie came to me sheepishly. “I’m sorry, but I just found that VISA bill you asked me to mail weeks ago that had fallen between my car seats. I must confess I almost just put it in the mail today without telling you but I thought that wouldn’t be very fair.”
“Really.” I responded, now feeling very guilty, but not quit guilty enough to confess.
The next day I was in a store in town that, as fate would have it, was filled with my friends, school parents, baseball team moms, and right as I was at the counter chatting and paying the shopkeeper said, “Declined.”
“What?”
“Declined. Your VISA was declined. A missed payment, maybe?”
“But I, I, I…”
And there it was, fate’s bullet got me, right where it counted, in my financial ego. I got what I deserved. Embarrassed, I wrote a check.
Once again proving to me that Karma is real and what goes around usually ends up smacking me on its return trip!
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