The Weight of Her Wallet

“Cynthia?”

“Excuse me, do I know you?”

“You’re Cynthia Shaffer from Miami, right?”

No, it can’t be. I’ve been too careful.

The story (journey really) started a little more than two years ago. Jennifer was heading to Northern Minnesota to visit her parents. Her messy divorce from the man (using the term lightly) that she married five years earlier had just finalized, and it hurt. While he embarked on a honeymoon with his personal trainer, Jennifer headed north in the attempt to heal her wounds with Mom’s home-cooking, and Dad’s bad jokes and sage advice. She landed in Minneapolis, grabbed her suitcase from the baggage carousel – a navy blue, Amazon Basics 21” roller bag with a green and white striped luggage tag emblazoned with a beautifully stylized “S” for Sanders, her last name. She picked up her rental car, reserved at Hertz. Jennifer hopped on the highway, turned the music up, and drove the two hours “home”.

Home was a tidy house on a dead-end street. Three bedrooms, two baths – along with a finished basement, the room she left for college. A home populated by the only people in the world she could really trust. Jennifer’s room hadn’t changed. The pictures on the wall, books on the shelf and stuffed animals on the bed made her feel at peace. Mom served her favorite chicken and dumplings at precisely 5:30pm with a dessert of ice cream and cookies promised for later – after she unpacked and freshened up from her long travel day.

As soon as she opened the zipper on the suitcase, she knew something wasn’t right. The clothes weren’t hers – they were far more fashionable and expensive. The cosmetics were from brands she could never afford. There was also a Coach purse and a computer – a fairly new MacBook Pro.

Who packs their computer in a checked bag?

This was most definitely NOT her suitcase.

Jennifer stared at the purse and wondered what she should do. So many questions. Should she open it and look inside, or would that be intrusive and rude? Would it be better to just contact the airline – they would know what to do.

No! The best option – the only option – was to check and look for contact info. So, with hands that were a bit unsteady, Jennifer opened the purse to find a Kate Spade wallet. She opened it. Her life changed in that moment.

The wallet contained much of what you’d expect. What caught Jennifer’s eye was the driver’s license – Cynthia Shaffer, Miami, Florida, 5’6”, blonde hair, blue eyes, DOB 7/24/1995. The photo could easily have been of her twin, or even a picture of herself from a couple of years ago. There were also three credit cards – an AMEX Platinum and two MasterCards along with $5,700 in cash (all hundreds). The clothes were all designer labels and, weirdly, just her size. It was like this other woman, who looked just like her, was living a life she could only dream of.

Jennifer showered. As her bargain-brand Suave shampoo rinsed from her hair, she couldn’t stop thinking about the luggage mix-up.

What kind of shampoo did she use?

Still dripping wet, Jennifer rushed out of the bathroom and rummaged through the suitcase – sure enough Sisley of Paris ($100 a bottle). A plan formed in her mind. The plan was risky but too tempting to ignore. She knew it was wrong, but she would become Cynthia Shaffer, even if just for a while.

As she enjoyed being doted on by her parents, sleeping in, home-cooked meals, and board games, Jennifer put her plan in motion. She opened her laptop and logged on to the Delta airline website, then quickly realized that for her to be Cynthia, she would need to start acting like her. Operating Cynthia’s Mac was confusing at first, but Jennifer got the knack of it and soon navigated with ease. A check of the woman’s calendar was telling – she was out of the country and according to her itinerary, had rented a lakeside villa somewhere in Spain for the next two months.

Two months in Spain? In a villa? This girl doesn’t just have money, she has freedom.

She noted the dates and her return flight info – she certainly didn’t want to run into “herself” by accident – that would not be good.

Jennifer wasted no time getting on the road. Her parents waved goodbye with tears in their eyes. She drove to Minneapolis with purpose. The plan was working. Last night she booked a flight to Las Vegas with a stop in Salt Lake City. Five nights at the MGM Grand. No rental car. Cynthia had an Uber account. Vegas was the perfect place to disappear if somehow the plan exploded in her face.

No issues at curbside check-in. But then again, those guys were more concerned about their tip than scrutinizing the ID. Next it was TSA security. She handed Cynthia’s Florida license to the agent along with her printed boarding pass (she always had them printed for some reason) and held her breath. After a quick review he handed them back and wished her a safe flight. It worked – it actually worked. The Delta Sky Club even welcomed the Jennifer version of Cynthia, and she enjoyed an arugula salad and a glass of sparkling wine.

After retrieving her suitcase from the carousel, Jennifer couldn’t help but smile. Her Uber driver was chattier than she liked but she was getting into her new persona and found that being more outgoing, even a little bit flirty, seemed to be natural. Her arrival and hotel check-in were uneventful. She settled in for a spicy creole seafood dish at Emeril’s New Orleans Fish House. Jennifer charged the meal to her room and silently thanked Cynthia.

Later, in the luxurious casino, a roulette table, where a group of noisy, probably inebriated, men, caught her attention. She watched intently as the men placed brightly colored chips on the numbers with seemingly no rhyme or reason. One of the men, a fit, thirty-something named Jaron, turned and asked, “Hey beautiful, pick a number for me.”

Flustered, she responded without thinking, “Nineteen”.

He thanked her and placed several of his chips (a teal-blue color) on the number. The ball clacked and clattered around the big wheel and finally landed in the slot labeled 19. The gathered crowd cheered as the dealer pushed stacks of chips in the man’s direction.

“Thanks! Why don’t you join us - you’re my good luck charm.” Jaron said as he pulled out a chair for her. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Jennifer declined the drink as she sat down and retrieved $300 from Cynthia’s wallet. She started selecting numbers, cheering, and winning – a lot more than she was losing. After two hours her stack of chips now totaled more than $6,000! Tired, she gathered her winnings and headed to bed.

A new sunrise in the Nevada desert brought Jennifer a fresh dose of worry and guilt. She was a thief; she was stealing from this Cynthia person. Attempts to justify it with jealousy about Cynthia’s privileged and wealthy life fell flat – it was just wrong. She decided to fix this – she would make it right. But, to do that she would need more money, a lot more money.

She dressed and went downstairs to the casino – back to that same roulette table – hopefully back to the same lucky streak from last night. This morning was much more low-key. Fewer crowds and a lot less noise. She started with $300 again (perhaps superstitious) and placed her bets. Much to her delight, the luck from the previous night continued with even greater success. When she was ready for lunch her winnings came to another $9,000.

While searching for a salad in one of the restaurants located in the hotel mall, Jennifer spotted Jaron, the man from last night. He smiled when he saw her.

“Hey, I know you. Cynthia, right?” Jaron asked.

“Yes, I am. Clearly your memory is better than mine. Is it Jarrod?”

“Close, I’m Jaron” he offered his hand for a shake.

“Jaron. That’s right.”

“I never got the chance to thank you for that lucky number ‘19’ last night. Let me buy you lunch”

They were seated in a booth near the back of the busy restaurant. Flirty small talk flowed as she enjoyed her sought-after salad, a near-perfect Caeser with blackened salmon. Jaron ate (more like devoured) a large, sloppy cheeseburger.

Why did men always attack their food like it was threatening to escape?

After Jaron paid the check he said, “It might be too soon. How about dinner?”

The thoughts swirling around in Jennifer’s head were dizzying. As much as Jennifer wanted to, she knew that for Cynthia the questions that he might ask could be dangerous. It would be too difficult to keep track of all the lies.

“No, sorry. Thanks so much for lunch but I have to pack for an early flight.”

Returning to the casino floor, Jennifer experienced yet another lucky streak. She tried blackjack and it turned out to be even more lucrative. Her combined winnings now climbed to almost $25,000.

The next day, Jennifer boarded a flight to Reno. Three nights at Harrah’s, where this new casino provided the same good luck – until it didn’t. Jennifer started losing, a lot. She considered cutting her losses and heading home but decided to keep trying – after all, this wasn’t her money she was losing. Lady luck reappeared with a vengeance. When Jennifer headed to the airport four days later, her bank account held $103,572, more than she’d ever had.

Thank you, Cynthia Shaffer!

Jennifer criss crossed the country chasing the high. The emotional roller coaster of winning and losing was addictive. At Caesars Palace in New Orleans, she was forced to cut her trip short. Huge losses along with what she was certain was increased scrutiny by casino security, prompted her to leave several days earlier than planned. She returned home to Arizona. Altogether, Jennifer, while pretending to be Cynthia, had accumulated $275,041. This had to stop before her luck ran out — or worse, before someone noticed. Three and a half weeks of being someone else and of looking over her shoulder was more than enough. Struggling to keep her lies straight was exhausting and now when Jennifer looked in the mirror, she only saw Cynthia.

It was time to make it right. She used Cynthia’s computer and paid all the travel expenses that she had charged to the woman’s credit cards from her own account.

Now all that remained was to get rid of the Amazon Basics suitcase that had started all this craziness. She booked two more flights. One way to Atlanta as Cynthia and a return flight as Jennifer.

She checked Cynthia’s bag curbside, a bag that would ride the baggage carousel round and round until a Delta baggage supervisor pulled it into the back room, reached out to the real Cynthia, and made arrangements for its return.

“You must be mistaken; my name is Jennifer.”

“I’m sorry, you reminded me of someone I met in Vegas”

As the man walked away, Jennifer took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She glanced over her shoulder and caught the man staring at her, a bit too long. What were the odds of running into him? Jason, or was it, Jarrod – no, it was Jaron. This chance encounter in the busy Atlanta airport had to be pure chance – didn’t it? She felt certain that she had carefully covered her tracks, she thought that old life was relegated to a funny story that she could never tell. A story so bizarre and absurd that nobody would ever believe it to be true.

“Announcing, non-stop service to Phoenix – boarding at gate nineteen.” The overhead announcement made Cynthia smile for one last time as Jennifer walked towards her gate.