Micro Fiction: 'Número incorrecto'

Ivan looked down and there it was, on the sidewalk just outside the pet store: a small, folded piece of green and gray paper on the sidewalk, with the number 20 printed on one corner. The Victorian font made it look like a twenty-dollar bill, but he doubted it. Probably a coupon or an advertisement for some 900-number phone-sex scam, he thought, picking it up, just in case. He unfolded it, and there he was: Andrew Jackson with his shock of wind-swept hair, looking more like a mad scientist than a 19th-century president.

So, a real twenty -- or was it? He held it up to the sun, half expecting it to be counterfeit. The ghostly little hologram of Jackson's face appeared. Genuine. What luck! Right away, as he stuffed it into his pocket, he began to feel guilty. Who had dropped it? Probably some cash-strapped single mom with a squalling baby to feed. He thought about spending it, saving it, donating it to charity, or even dropping it. Surely someone more deserving would find it, someone who regularly stooped to pick up all the lost pennies Ivan was too lazy to retrieve from the sidewalk.

Or he could spend it on fish. He was at the pet store to buy some tropical fish, some neon tetras, for his aquarium. He stuffed the 20 into his pocket and walked into the store. Birds twittered, parrots squawked, puppies barked, and somewhere, down one of the aisles, a child was crying.

Over all the noise, Ivan heard his cell phone jangling. He fished it out of his pocket, already half suspecting who it was. "Hello," he said. "Maria!" the woman's voice demanded. "Quiero Maria!" It was the same woman who had been calling him all week, constantly asking for someone he didn't know. "Wrong number," Ivan said, trying again to remember how to say it in Spanish. "Qué? Uh? Uh?" the woman said. "Sorry," Ivan said. "No habla. There's no Maria here." "Uh?" the women repeated. He shut the phone and put it back in his pocket.

The fish tanks glowed and bubbled at the back of the shop, past the cages of parakeets, lizards and furry little rodents. A mother and her wailing child, a little girl of about three or four, were blocking the aisle. The girl apparently wanted a guinea pig. She kept pointing to one of the cages and pleading, "Please, Mommy." "No, not today," her mother said. "I'm out of money."

Ivan waited for them to move, so he could get by, but it wasn't happening. The girl wouldn't let her mother pull her away. She kept pointing to the guinea pig and screeching "I want it!" While he waited, Ivan thought about what he could spend the 20-dollar bill on. He could buy five new fish, or enough fish food for months, or one of those faux driftwood thingies to decorate his tank. He couldn't decide.

His phone rang again. "Maria!" the woman screeched when he answered. "Maria! Maria!" "There's no Maria!" Ivan shouted. The mother and the little girl looked up at him quizzically. Then he suddenly remembered how to say it: "número incorrecto!" he said. The woman on the phone moaned with disgust and hung up. Ivan was relieved. No more wrong numbers now, he thought. Now all he had to do was decide how to spend his 20-dollar windfall.

"I'm sorry," the mother said to her child. The girl stopped crying at last and turned away from the guinea pig's cage, looking forlorn and defeated. She had the face of a weeping angel. Ivan suddenly felt sad for her.

"I'm sorry," her mother said again. "I'm sorry, Maria."