The Wishing Coin: A Modern Fairy Tale (2 page)

“Yes, that’s what I’ve been telling Jerod – a great story, and look how many people have shared and liked the tweet!”

When I opened the door of the Program Director’s office, I saw him absorbed in discussion with Raymond Harris, the Executive Producer, Advertising.

“Oh, Julia, hi, come in,” Carter invited me, seeing me at the door. “How’s it going?” He took the rubber ball that had been standing on his desk and started playing with it. I took a chair facing him.

“Well, my interview with Mike Greenberg from NSS just finished and…”

“Mike Greenberg? Wasn’t he the guy who developed that app…” Carter forced his memory.

“Synthesis?” I helped him.

“Ray, have you used this app?” Carter suddenly hurled the ball at Ray who was visibly startled.

“I personally haven’t but two friends of mine have. I’ve heard contrasting opinions…”

“Entrepreneurship, new technology, money, fame…” Carter had turned his face to the window and was gazing at the office building across the street. “I like it.” He turned back to me. “That’s what the average Joe wants to watch. It’s no accident that your most commented and liked stories are the one about the 90-year-old man from Kansas who became a YouTube star and the other – about the teenage author who sold over million copies of her sci-fi series.” Carter was staring at me thoughtfully. “We show what the viewer wants to see. The viewer is king and their desire is the law AEC abides.”

“Yes, that’s why my stories are always based on readers’ emails and letters I’ve received. The last one I got was from a woman from Milwaukee who’d written to me about a priest who had helped…”

“Julia, do you know which story has been most viewed for the past month? A Talk to a Star by Jennifer Bailey. Her last interview with the up-and-coming rapper Chris Levine has over 230 retweets on Twitter and 400 shares on Facebook. It’s been added to favorites by more than 500 people and our mail is swarming with messages. That’s what Raymond and I were discussing before you came in. Ray, show her the figures!” Raymond, who was sitting next to me leaned forward and showed me the stats displayed on a tablet.

Jennifer Bailey was a young 20-something reporter fresh out of Columbia University who usually interviewed celebrities in Los Angeles for James Miller Live.

“I know we had agreed that you would be host of The Screw but Jennifer will fit much better with the whole concept behind the show. I am sorry to say that to you but for now it’s not possible for you to have your own show.”

I shuddered for a moment. I couldn’t believe that one little girl who’d been working at AEC for less than a year had stolen my primetime!

“Don’t be sad, Julia. Stephan Georgepolous likes you; he’s a big fan of yours. If you push him a little bit, you might get your own show.”

“Are you kidding me? Yes, at my birthday party in GMU’s office he did say he was my fan but that was just a joke.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

Raymond chuckled.

I pressed my lips together nervously and aimed for the door when Carter’s words stopped me:

“Julia, I appreciate your diligence and hard work. I promise you that next season I’ll talk to Barbara Harris and try to make you Jennifer’s deputy on The Screw.”

Raymond smiled pityingly and tossed the rubber ball at me.

***

“And how did you feel?” Susan, the Investigative Reporter, asked me.

“Furious, of course. I felt like aiming Carter’s goddamned rubber ball right at his face!”

Emily, the Workplace Contributor, laughed. Every day after work my colleagues and I met up at the Dead Poet. Ted Collins, the weather anchor, always spent his birthday there because of the bar’s policy of offering free drinks to customers who were born on the same date as some eminent literary figure. It had turned out Ted was born on the same day as Hemingway, and that day he had talked the bar’s manager into selling drinks at half price to all people from GMU’s team.

“I’ve noticed that when things start working well professionally for somebody, soon enough they succeed in personal life, as well,” Susan added thoughtfully. “Take Jenny, for example. Not only will she become The Screw’s new host but she’s also going out with Lewis.”

Emily poked Susan to make her shut up. “I told you not to mention Lewis!”

“What? I thought Julia had already gotten over him. After all, it’s been more than half a year since they broke up.”

“Good evening, ladies,” Scott, the Financial Contributor, greeted us and came closer to our table. “How’s it going? Em, is that a new haircut?”

“Not really. I only colored my highlights. It looks like your hair might need some coloring, too, though. I can see that the financial turmoil on Wall Street has given you quite a lot of grey hairs.”

Scott laughed.

“Being on Wall Street isn’t that stressful when you don’t have capital; I’m not complaining. Julia, and how are you? You look a little bit pale.” He turned to me.

“Yes, Scott, you’re right. I don’t feel very well and I think I should go home.” I took my jacket, paid for the beer hastily, and aimed for the door despite Susan's and Emily’s loud protests.

Before I went out, I heard Emily scolding Susan. “Is it so hard to be at least a little bit more considerate?”

The cool wind outside quickly dispelled my thoughts. I aimed for Central Park. I had often taken this way in the past. Once I entered the park, I felt much calmer. The green foliage, the cool weather, and the stillness relaxed me. There were a lot of people, though it was a workday: couples in love, mothers with children, and ordinary passersby. While I was striding home intently, I started asking myself why I was putting so much effort into my work. I had come to New York eight years before, right after I had graduated from The University of Florida. What was the point, I thought, of trying so hard when in the end Jennifer or another ambitious fledgling would effortlessly get to the top? I was slogging away for twelve hours a day, five and sometimes even six days a week and to what end? To top it all, Jennifer was now going out with Lewis. Damn it! I interviewed people in a feature I’d named Miracle – How I Did It and yet the miracle was slipping away from me. I felt as if I was in a self-imposed prison. Suddenly I noticed I had my feet on Strawberry Field. I felt something peculiar.

“John, buddy, imagine… Imagine what it would be if I got what I wanted at least once in my life…” While I was muttering these words, I suddenly remembered the lyrics of “Imagine” and started singing about everything I wanted coming to me, about being a dreamer, and how I wasn’t the only one. While I was humming, a couple in love passed by. The woman looked at me curiously. I sighed and went my way further down the alley. It was shaping up to be another lonely evening at my small apartment in Midtown Manhattan. I was going to buy a bottle of white wine, some rice with vegetables, and a bag of chips from the nearest store. But suddenly something unusual happened. Something that completely changed my monotonous daily routine. As I was walking down West 54th Street in the darkening day, a stranger grabbed my attention. He had a little table in front of him with a sign saying “Wishing coins for sale.”

“Come closer, ma’am, take a look at my incredible magic coins and pick your own,” he said invitingly.

“Are these the advanced version of Bitcoins? Are they taxable?”

“Everything has a price, ma’am, and you know this very well.” The stranger paused. “But if you mean federal tax, no, these coins aren’t taxable. You’ve got nothing to declare.” He smiled widely.

I stopped in the middle of the street.

“Come, ma’am, and give them a try for free!”

Something about that vendor – it could have been his voice, the words he’d been using or his energy as a whole – aroused my curiosity and made me come closer to the table. According to the laws of logic, he matched all the characteristics of a crackpot.

“Do your coins really make wishes come true?”

“Sure, didn’t I attract you here? I had just wished that you would come closer and my wish did come true, didn’t it?”

I chuckled; the stranger had a good sense of humor. I glanced at the coins – some were white, others kind of yellowish and still others had the color of copper. There were some very old and other brand new ones among them.

“Is there any difference among them? What is each used for?”

“You’re quite observant! Yes, there’s a difference. The white ones you see fulfill all wishes related to health. The copper ones are for work and the golden – for love. Which kind would you like, madam?”

The stranger was so convincing that I was beginning to believe him. Wishing coins? I felt as if I was going back in time to when I was a kid and wanted to find something similar to Aladdin’s magic lamp.

“Can I buy all of them then? I have a wish that’s related to my work and another to love…”

“No, ma’am, these are very powerful objects and you can buy just one. I’m not allowed to sell anybody more than one.”

“But what I’d really like is a coin that will fulfill all my wishes. Don’t you have one like that?”

The stranger was staring at me intensely without uttering a word. I felt I couldn’t bear his silence any longer and decided to leave, but he stopped me.

“Miss, hold on!”

I turned back to him. He came closer to me as if he had to tell me something confidential.

“I do have one such coin. I don’t offer it to anybody because… because it really makes all wishes come true.”

“But that’s awesome!” I exclaimed, overexcited. “I mean… who wouldn’t want all their wishes to come true?! Where’s this coin? I am buying it immediately!”

The stranger smiled. He had nice white teeth. For a moment it crossed my mind that he might not have been just an ordinary vendor, but I was too excited to give it a second thought. Later on, when I was going back to this very moment I wondered if I would have taken the coin if I had known its real price.

“Miss, I can sell it to you, but I am not taking any responsibility for the consequences. Remember that what now looks like a gift may very soon turn into a curse.”

“I’m taking it!” I insisted. The more he was warning me, the more I wanted the coin. Marketing specialists could only watch and learn from him.

“All right, then,” the stranger resigned with a sigh and bent under the table. After a few seconds he took out a carefully folded cloth, unfolded it pedantically and revealed a small quite tarnished coin – a true relic. I reached for it but he stopped me.

“Don’t you ever take it with your right hand! Touch it only with the left one. Will you remember that?”

I reached out my left hand obediently and he dropped the coin in it quite unwillingly. As soon as it fell on my palm I got a strange feeling. There were some figures engraved on it and, tarnished as it was, I could identify something like a deity on its face.

“Where’s it from?”

“I’m not sure – either Nepal or Kashmir.”

“And this tiny piece of metal is my ticket to fulfilling all my desires?”

“Yes, ma’am, I warned you about it several times already.”

“Excellent. What do I owe you?”

“500 dollars.”

“500 bucks for this junky piece!” I couldn’t help but cry with astonishment. A passerby turned his head toward me and eyed me with curiosity. His reaction sobered me. How had I even fallen for such a cheap trick like wishing coins? I should have hurried to the supermarket if I didn’t want to eat yesterday's leftovers for dinner.

“Thanks a lot, I intend to invest my money in something more reasonable.” I gave him the coin back immediately. I expected the vendor to object or at least to start talking me into buying the coin, but he was visibly relieved and I heard him mutter,

“Thank God she didn’t take it.”

Now, I am asking myself: if I hadn’t heard him, would I have just gone home and would the story have ended right then? Who knows? But I heard him and made a firm decision: I had to have this coin at all costs, even if I had to pay five thousand. Thank Goodness, I withdrew enough money from an ATM earlier today.

“Hey… um… What’s your name? I’m buying the coin!”

He turned back to me, flabbergasted, and handed it to me reluctantly.

“And remember, don’t you ever touch it with your right hand!”

“Yes, yes, all right.” I took out the money hastily and paid him. All I wanted was to go home as soon as possible and examine the coin undisturbed by anything. Perhaps all this was just a well-staged theater aiming at making me buy this useless piece of crap, but I could feel in my gut that there was something special about that coin.

I opened the door of my apartment and immediately rushed to the living room, where I took the coin and put it up under the lamplight. I could definitely discern something like a deity. On its back I identified some geometrical shapes blending into one another. I felt overexcited. “Could this be true? A wishing coin?” I spoke aloud and then laughed nervously. I glanced back at the little coin – it was now or never.

“I want…” I started but then stopped. Did I have the guts to try it? “I want to be the new host of The Screw,” I announced firmly. “If this works out, I will wish for Lewis and me to make up,” I was thinking on my way to the fridge. I took out a bottle of white wine.