The Hope Store

by Dwight Okita

  One way or another, I have to leave and there's nothing you can do about it. I've loved borrowing time with you.

  Love,

  Jada

  LUKE

  40. LUCKY PEOPLE

  Kazu told me about a study he oversaw when he was working at LiveWell Laboratories. The study dealt with the nature of luck. Some years later, he would begin clinicals on hope installations and, of course, later meet me. In the luck study, researchers invited people who thought of themselves as lucky to be part of one test group, and people who thought of themselves as unlucky to be part of another test group. One at a time, subjects were placed alone in a room and told that they had lost their car keys and were running late for a romantic date with someone they were extremely excited to meet. They were told that it was crucial that they go by car and that taking a cab was not an option. They were told that they had no more than five minutes to find their keys or they would be late and their date would depart from their appointed meeting place. Then they were asked to find their keys as quickly as possible. Once they found the keys, the experiment was over.

  The lucky people never stopped looking for their keys. They looked in a stunning array of places, including illogical places like in the refrigerator, in the pockets of clothing they weren't wearing, in rooms they hadn't been in, etc. More often than not these "lucky people" found the keys, often before the five minutes had elapsed.

  The unlucky people, on the other hand, looked half-heartedly, looked in fairly obvious places like in the pockets of the clothes they were wearing, on the floor just around them, on nearby flat surfaces of tables. More often than not these "unlucky people" gave up before their five minutes were over and admitted defeat, letting the clock run out. Few of the unlucky subjects found their keys.

  Both scenarios demonstrated the power of self-fulfilling prophecy, how we live up to our own expectations. But why do people consider themselves inherently lucky or unlucky? More importantly, Kazu wondered how the unlucky subjects could learn to become luckier, more hope-filled. How does the brain tell its owner -- biologically, chemically, electronically -- that it is lucky? Is there a way to trick the brain into thinking it is luckier, more hopeful, than it really is – thus increasing the owner's hope supply? And if so, what harm would there be in that?

  For starters, Kazu showed both groups video footage of how each group searched for their keys which everyone found endlessly amusing. Much laughter ensued. Then the lucky and unlucky were able to ask each other questions.

  One lucky person asked an unlucky person why they only searched the floor in the immediate area. The unlucky person said they assumed that the keys would have fallen nearby. One unlucky person asked a lucky person why they looked in illogical places like the refrigerator and rooms they hadn't been in. The lucky person said that often she loses things when she is not paying attention. Besides, she really wanted to make it to that hot date on time. Invariably, the lucky person kept the reward of the hot date upmost in his mind and took it seriously.

  Kazu then asked both groups how they came to think of themselves as lucky or not. He asked the unlucky ones what it would take to start thinking of themselves as lucky people. By the end of the six-week study, many of the unluckies became better at finding the cars keys and finding opportunities in general. More importantly, many unluckies started to think of themselves as lucky for the first time in their lives.

  LUKE

  41. A PRIVATE PERSON

  Jada Upshaw did us proud at the town hall. Twitter crowned her the new Queen of Hope. Websites started popping up devoted to all things Jada. But Jada wasn’t having any of it. Instead of hearing how the audience had rooted and clapped for her, she felt she’d made a fool of herself, that she had gone from national cover girl for hope to a terrible responder with horrible side effects and zero hope.

  “I’m just tired all the time,” she says.

  I encourage her to watch the broadcast of the town hall meeting with me. “Luke, you have to understand, I’m a private person and I’ve been forced to strip naked in public. My most personal secrets are joked about on late-night talk shows. I can’t go anywhere without being asked for my, uh, uh, what do you call it when you, uh, sign something. Autograph! They ask me for my damn autograph.” Jada is stuttering again, forgetting simple words. She hasn’t done that since her hope installation.

  The day after the town hall, our email box is flooded with requests for appointments. And, sure, there is some hate mail too. Haters are always gonna hate. It's their calling. But from the looks of it, things are looking up for this little store of ours. If The Hope Store wasn't on the map before, it certainly is now after CNN's Town Hall Meeting on Hope. In spite of serious concerns about Jada and a few others with side effects, we are growing. A reporter for Crains' Business called just today. He wanted to know if we are considering franchising The Hope Store.

  I’m feeling overwhelmed so I dial the one number that can save me. “Kazu?” I say into my phone. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

  “Where are you, Luke? You don’t sound so great.”

  “I just wanted to hear your voice. We’re okay, aren’t we?” I say.

  “What do you mean?” says Kazu.

  “Things have been busy with the town hall and stuff. We haven’t had a lot of us time. So I just want to make sure we’re okay.”

  “I think we’ve both been pretty stressed,” he says. “But if two people with hope installations can’t keep their acts together, who can?” He laughs his mad scientist laugh. I chuckle.

  “Who can indeed,” I say. “I’ll be home soon.” We hang up. My phone rings again.

  "Kazu?" I say.

  "Are you sitting down?" It’s not Kazu. It’s Chartreuse.

  "What is it, Chartreuse? What can I do for you?" If she has one more critical comment to make, I will just slowly hang up the phone.

  "I talked to our accountant today. We're in the black. We're turning a profit and quite a good one. Seems the town hall meeting really put us on the map. We were the topic of every water cooler discussion, every blog and newspaper editorial. Side effects and all. I guess you’re right that any press is good press."

  "We’re turning a profit? That’s fantastic, Chartreuse," I say. "Does that mean we're getting funding for the new year?"

  "We're getting close to making a decision. I'll keep you posted."

  For one full week, Jada Upshaw has been a missing person. It's as if her wish had come true: to be one of the Disappeared, one of the lost girls. Otis files a missing persons report with the police. Kazu and I cuddle on the sofa as we watch “Nightline.” My cell rings. I’m tempted to let it go to voicemail, but I don’t.

  It's Blair Matters.

  "Luke, you haven't found Jada yet, have you?"

  "No. Have you heard from her?"

  "Not exactly. But I think I know where she is."

  LUKE

  42. CLOSE YOUR EYES

  "What do you mean you think you know where she is?!" I say. I’m losing my patience, to say nothing of my sanity.

  "I can't get into that right now,” says Blair. “But check the roof of The Hope Store building."

  "The roof? Why the –"

  "She may be suicidal. I'm afraid she might jump off the roof of The Hope Store!" he says. "Talk about a publicity nightmare," and he hangs up.

  I climb into the car and drive to the store. I turn on the store lights and take the stairs up three flights to the roof, push open the heavy iron door which opens to the rooftop. At first, I see nothing. I see the roof, some stars, a couple of white plastic chairs. I’m just about to leave when I hear someone clear her throat.

  And there standing at the edge of the roof, blending into the sky in her navy blue dress, is Jada. She just stands there hypnotized, looking out over the city.

  "Jada!" I shout. I approach her. "I've been looking all over for you. What're you doing up here?"

  She does not turn to look at me. "Have you ever noticed
you can see the red Target sign from here?" Her voice is very calm as she speaks.

  "No, I never noticed, Jada. But I think we should –"

  "Don't get me wrong. I like Target, like that they have a Starbucks inside and a grocery store with fresh fruit, they got nice kitchenware and beddings upstairs. You go into Target for a teal hand towel and come out with a full week's groceries, three CD's by Adele, and if you're lucky – you might remember the hand towel."

  "Jada, I'm so happy to see you!” I say. “Everyone's been worried about you. We've all been looking for you."

  "I'm right here. Can't you see me? All you have to do is look." There is an edge to her tone that is unfamiliar.

  "Jada, I'd like to talk about how you're doing. I think that's what's important –"

  "I'm getting there, Lukester. Don't rush me. Have I ever told you how much I hate when you rush me?" she says staring me down.

  "Yes, you've told me. I'm sorry --"

  "And anyway, my idea of hope doesn't have to be your idea of hope, you know?"

  I wonder if Blair has called the cops by now. "What are you saying, Jada?"

  "I don't know. I guess I’m confused…by my hope treatment…by what’s happening to me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t deeply disappointed. And I don’t want to lie anymore." She reaches into her bag and takes out a little origami paper bird. She kisses it gently, throws it off the roof.

  "We should talk about this," I say. "It's important."

  "Who knows? Maybe I'll be back at the store next month. Or maybe I'll just…call it a day. Maybe I’ll finally have a successful suicide.”

  I’m trying to think of something helpful to say but no words come.

  "These little origami cranes are part of my farewell ritual. The birds are here to carry my spirit from this world into the next one. Hopefully it will be a better world. Luke, you have to promise me if I ever do manage to take my life...that you won't feel in any way… responsible. Because you’re not."

  I look at the skyline.

  "You know what I like about origami? You take this perfectly ordinary, perfectly flat sheet of paper. And you begin folding it until it becomes something totally unique. It’s a transformation story," she says.

  "I've always rooted for you, Jada. I still do. Hey, how about we get off this rooftop before one of us blows away." I start to move toward the door, but Jada stays put.

  "You asked me what I'm doing up here. You told me once that the view was beautiful up here at night. I wanted to see for myself." A breeze blows and Jada's hat flies off the roof.

  "Your hat."

  She walks to the edge of the roof and watches her hat slowly descend three stories.

  "For two amazing weeks, I knew what it was like to have hope. To look forward to the day! It was amazing. And then poof! Something happened. What happened, Luke?"

  "I don't know, Jada. I wish I knew."

  "It's worse now, Luke, to know what hope feels like, what I've been missing out on. Sometimes I hate you for what you did to me."

  "It was always for you, Jada."

  She surveys the Chicago skyline. “Do you think our brains can fix themselves?" she asks. “The human body fixes itself all the time. I don’t see why the brain would be any different. When I started treatment in October, I promised to give myself three months. If the installation didn't work by end of December – I was going to kill myself. I couldn't bear to start another year."

  "I don't want to lose you, Jada." I am trying to read her face.

  "Yeah, I’m a good customer," she says.

  “You’re more than that,” I say. She smiles.

  Suddenly the rooftop door creaks open. It's Kazu. "There you two are! Am I glad to see you, Jada," he says. Kazu embraces her.

  "What's going on?" she asks. Now Otis steps through the door, followed by Blair Matters. It's a small parade.

  "Jada, sweetheart," Otis starts. "They're holding a table for us at the Grand Lux...whenever you're ready to have dinner with me again."

  She shakes her head defiantly. "This better not be an intervention or I'm going to be very pissed."

  Jada walks over to me. She speaks just loud enough for me to hear. "Tell me something. How many people, Luke?" she says. "How many people are on this damn roof?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I’ve been hallucinating a bit lately. So is it just the two of us here, or are there others?"

  I look around and count them one by one. "I count five."

  "Well, that's three too many!!"

  Blair jumps in. “Jada, it was inspiring talking with you at the town hall meeting. A producer friend of mine at Bravo was watching too and would love to do a reality show that follows your trials and tribulations at The Hope Store. You’d be paid handsomely." Blair produces a sheet of paper and pen and offers it to her. "All you have to do is sign this agreement which states you give Bravo permission to create the show. And that you're gravely concerned that The Hope Store put your health in jeopardy.”

  She looks directly into Blair's eyes. "I never said the store put me in jeopardy. I knew the procedure had risks. That was never a question."

  “Of course, you don’t have to sign, Jada,” Blair continues. “You can walk away from this chance to tell your story. You can even walk away from the money if you dare."

  Out of the corner of my eye, I'm aware that Otis and Kazu are listening with great interest.

  “It's tempting. I guess I could buy the condo they're trying to evict me from," she says looking at Otis. I can almost hear the wheels of her brain turning. "I could stop worrying about money and start enjoying life,” she says. I'm heartsick at the thought that Jada is actually falling for Blair Matters' offer.

  “Let’s say you pass on the offer. What would the rest of your life look like?" says Blair. "You wake up tomorrow with your side effects and you ride The Hope Store roller-coaster. And maybe because you didn’t do the Bravo show, maybe hundreds of customers come to the store and wind up with horrible, life-threatening side effects. It’s not your fault. No one would ever blame you. But with this show, you could be a consumer advocate. You could make sure that the choices the public makes are educated choices.”

  Jada nods slowly. “This is a very big decision. I'm going to have to ask you to let me sleep on it tonight."

  "No can do. The Bravo exec wants a decision tonight, or the deal is off."

  She ponders a bit, looks at Otis, Luke and Kazu. "Then the answer is no. Final answer."

  Blair seems flustered, looks like he wants to spit at something. "Opportunities don't come along like this very often. But whatever. It's your loss."

  Then a big smile spreads across Jada's face. "No, the loss is completely yours, Blair."

  He shakes his head in disgust and makes his way toward the stairwell.

  "Otis, Kazu, could you wait for us downstairs?" I say. "I'd like a moment to talk with Jada if that's okay."

  "It's almost midnight!" Kazu says.

  "We'll be down soon."

  The men nod and make their way toward the stairwell. And then it’s just us again.

  She fishes a piece of paper from her purse and scribbles a note on it. Then, with lightning speed, she folds the sheet into a shape. I watch her as always with great interest. Not as a kid watches a bug in a jar, but as a friend watches a friend. And we are friends. Why deny it?

  Whistles and laughter bubble up from the revelers on the street below.

  Jada walks up to me, looks deep into my eyes for a moment. "Luke, do you trust me?" The wind picks up a bit.

  "Of course I do." She smiles back.

  "Close your eyes," she says.

  "Why?"

  "Because I asked you to?"

  Down below on Clark Street, I hear the crowd start to shout out the final countdown: "10…9…"

  "I'm not comfortable closing my eyes right now."

  "Damn it, Luke, I know you hate not having control. But I have to win sometimes. It's something friends do for each
other."

  "8…7…"

  And now I’m getting nervous. I worry that Jada might jump off the roof, might take her life. But she sounds so reasonable, so reassuring.

  "I want to thank you and Kazu for trying to help me," she says.

  "6… 5…"

  She seems to be getting emotional. She flashes a radiant smile, more radiant than I’ve ever seen her smile. She looks...happy.

  "Now be a good boy and close your eyes. Trust me, everything is going to be fine."

  "4… 3…"

  With reservations, I close my eyes but I peek a little. Jada gently places something in my hand. I'm relieved to see her walking toward the stairwell and not the edge of the roof.

  "2…1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!" The crowd below goes wild, fireworks illuminate the city, revelers blow their toy horns. I open my eyes and Jada’s gone. Here I stand alone on the rooftop with a folded piece of paper. It's an origami crane. I unfold it, flap by flap. In Jada's familiar scrawl is a note:

  NO TO BRAVO.

  YES TO THE HOPE STORE.

  SEE YOU FRIDAY AT 2 PM.

  TRY AGAIN?

  I breathe a deep sigh of relief. I'm thrilled Jada has chosen to live, has chosen to work with us again even after our failings. This optimism doesn't come from magnetic fields or slow-falling confetti.

  It comes from her.

  JADA

  43. STILL HERE

  I make my way down the three flights of stairs. I try to picture Luke unfolding my paper bird and it makes me smile.

  Sometimes things happen you can't explain... because they happen only to you and no one else. And who else would really understand? Maybe you believe in a store, or a person, or an idea. Maybe you just believe in a singer you heard once on the radio because she was amazing...and you believe she can be amazing again. That's how I feel about myself tonight: that I can be amazing again.