LEATHER WALLET, LOST AND FOUND “Dad, your phone’s ringing.” It was John Bert, my grandnephew who alerted me, while at the wheel, unmindful and half-asleep as I was beside him at the front seat of his car. We were already near home after having gone to Lulu Hyper after Sunday evening Mass for a few grocery items, and, later for some Subway tuna sandwiches and coco juice, our supper, at the food court on the first floor. Getting my phone with my left hand from the left pocket of my blue-grey suit jacket, I saw that someone had, indeed, called. “Hello, someone had dialed my number,” I said, making the return call. “This . . . Lulu Hyper,” a distinctly Indian male voice answered. “Yes?” I asked, surprised. “Are you Filipino?” an unmistakably Filipina voice replied, instead. “A long time now,” I answered, laughing. “Somebody found your wallet,” the Filipina said, matching my laughter. “Just get it from Customers’ Relations, second floor,” she added. “We’ll be there,” I hastily replied, despite being momentarily stunned, while at the same time groping with my right hand the right pocket of my trousers. It was empty! “Let’s go back,” I told John Bert. “Somebody found my wallet,” I added. “Where did you lose it?” he asked. “Perhaps at Subway, when I put it back in my pocket after you gave me the change,” I replied. “Or it could have fallen on the bench near the pharmacy where you sat when I went to the restroom,” he surmised. “Perhaps,” I said. But my mind was on the contents: my Central Population Registry card that I need to always have with me for any transaction, my ATM card which I had used earlier to buy Mandarin oranges and a few items at the grocery store there, my military ID card, plus other odds and ends tucked in there, not to mention the coins and loose bills, aside from the three 20-dinar bills which I intended to pay Shafik, the Indian proprietor of the convenience store near my flat where I usually get things on credit. “I’ll just wait downstairs,” John Bert said, as I hastily went out of the car upon arrival. Approaching the Customers’ Relations counter, I saw there a rather plump Arab lady smiling at me while a Filipina fanned out some “Scratch and Win” tickets for a middle-aged Arab guy to choose from. “I’m Mr. Mendoza,” I breathlessly said, smiling back at the still-smiling Arab lady. “Just a minute, Mr. Mendoza,” the Filipina answered, instead. “I was told that somebody had found my wallet,” I said. “Yes, an Arab man brought it here,” she said, bending down to get my wallet from a middle drawer. “Here,” she said. “Did he say where he found it?” I asked. “Yes. At the parking lot,” she replied. “Will you please sign here?” she added, pushing a ledger near me, which I gratefully signed. “Thanks,” I said, riffling through the contents of my wallet and noting that nothing seemed to be missing. “But how were you able to get my number?” I asked. “From your calling card,” she said, getting from me my wallet and sliding the card from under my military ID. “Here,” she said. “I didn’t even know that I still have one remaining,” I said, sliding the card back in. “Thanks again. I’ll definitely be writing about this, so that others may know. Too bad, I can’t thank that Arab guy in person,” I said, beaming at her in gratitude. On the way down, I kept telling myself, “Surely, this is not mere luck or plain serendipity. If one is looking for an example of the mysterious workings of guardian angels, then this is it,” I thought. Later, finding John Bert downstairs, I told him everything, particularly where the wallet was found. “It must have fallen from your pants pocket while you were getting in the car,” he said. “Yes,” I replied, transferring my wallet to the right pocket of my jacket. “The guy who took our parking space, must have been the one who found it,” he surmised. “Most probably,” I said. “And you know, on our way back here, I didn’t feel apprehensive at all. It could be because it was not the first time I lost my wallet,” I added. “Really?” he asked. “Yes, I did, in Manama, at one of the bars of Delmon Hotel. I had my whole-month salary in that wallet, too,” I said, laughing. “And I was drunk,” I added. (Coming Soon: LOSING MY WALLET FOR THE FIRST TIME)
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 11:35:53 +0000
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