Bitter Truth

1
En Route to Belize City, Belize
I SUPPOSE EVERY HUNDRED million dollars has its own
sordid story and the hundred million I am chasing is no exception.
I am on a TACA International flight to Belize in search of my
fortune. Underneath the seat in front of me lies my briefcase
and in my briefcase lies all I need, officially, to pick my fortune
up and take it home with me. I lift the briefcase onto my lap
and open it, carefully pulling out the file folder, and from that
folder, with even more care, pulling out the document inside. I
like the feel of the smooth copy paper in my hands. I read it
covetously, holding it so the nun sitting next to me can’t steal
a peek. Its text is as short and as evocative as the purest haiku.
“Default judgment is awarded in favor of the plaintiff in
the amount of one hundred million dollars.” The document
is signed by the judge and stamped in red ink and certified by
the Prothonotary of the Court of Common Pleas of the City of
Philadelphia and legal in every state of the union and those
countries with the appropriate treaties with the United States,
a group in which, fortunately, Belize is included. One hundred
million dollars, the price of two lives plus punitive damages. I
bring the paper to my nose and smell it. I can detect the sweet
scent of mint, no,