Coral loved her porcelain pink piggy bank named Puddles with its curlicue tail. She used it to hold the coins from The Man Upstairs when the pennies, nickels, dimes, quarters, and dollar coins overflowed from the tin can beneath the heating vent in her apartment.
As she looked out the window of her red brick apartment building, she remembered how she promised The Man Upstairs that she would never hoard the coins for herself. Her parents bought the pig for her at the neighborhood thrift store, so she could save the coins until she could figure out how to use them for good in the world. Then, one day, she realized that Puddles had disappeared. It was like there was a bank robbery with a mystery burglar.
“Puddles is missing!” said nine-year-old Coral Graf to her father as he ate pastrami on rye for lunch from his own deli.
Even her usual collection of coins that came from The Man Upstairs through the ceiling’s heating vent into the tin can had vanished. The tin that she had set out for the collection underneath the vent was emptied and turned on its side. She considered that she should call the police and ask them to investigate.
“There must be a thief in the building stealing my coins,” she said, as she scrunched her eyebrows together. “I want Puddles back!”
Although she suspected her parents for a few moments, she knew her parents wouldn’t take the coins. The last time they took any money from her coin collection for themselves, they promised never to do it again. Since her mother lectured her that fibbing was bad behavior, Coral believed that her parents would most likely keep their word.
“It was probably the neighbor downstairs. He’s stingy,” Mr. Graf said, as he chomped away on his sandwich. “I never really liked him. He always keeps to himself as though he is hiding something. You never see him or his kids.”
“The Man Downstairs?” Coral asked. “Do you think he knows The Man Upstairs has been giving me coins?”
“He probably does because you’ve been giving the coins away almost every day, and everyone knows it,” Mr. Graf said. He savored a potato knish with mashed potato and caramelized onions. “He might be angry that you never gave him any money.”
Coral could not believe that people could be so mean. The money that The Man Upstairs had given her was supposed to be used to do good, and some nasty person had to steal it because they were jealous. At least, the person could go steal from someone who had a lot more money than Coral ever had. Why would someone want to steal from her?
“At night, our downstairs neighbor could have stuck his hand through the floor vent and stolen your piggy bank and the coins from the tin can. There’s nobody else who could have taken the coins,” Mr. Graf said. “The man who lives next door can’t put his hand through the wall.”
“I’m calling Mom,” Coral said, as she dialed her mother, a telephone switchboard operator at the Empire State Building. “She’ll know what to do.”
As the phone rang in Coral’s ear, she grew more and more anxious at the thought of her stolen coins. She had promised The Man Upstairs to give his pennies away for the common good; now they were stolen.
“Mom, yes I know you’re at work, but Dad thinks The Man Downstairs stole my coins,” Coral said. “Can you call him and ask him to give them back? I don’t want to ask him. What if he’s mean to me?”
“Honey, if you’re really that worried, then you need to call the police,” Mrs. Graf said. “I have to go back to work. I’m hanging up for now.”
Knots turned in Coral’s stomach at the thought of calling the police, but she was willing to give it a try. She dialed the number, and her heartbeat raced.
“911, what’s your emergency?” the operator said in a harsh tone.
“The Man Downstairs stole my piggy bank and coins from The Man Upstairs, and I want them back,” Coral said, as she teared up. “Can you please help me?”
Coral heard a click on the other end of the phone and dead air.
“Hello?” Coral said. “Is anyone there? This really is an emergency.”
Then, Coral hung up the phone with a sigh and realized that she would have to confront The Man Downstairs herself, even if the police would not come to her defense.
“I’m going to talk with The Man Downstairs. If I don’t come back, please come save me,” Coral said to her dad. She grabbed her tin can and headed toward the door.
“Oh, you’re always so dramatic,” her dad said, as he finished his cheese blintz. “Just get the pennies and tell him not to rob from The Man Upstairs again.”
Coral tiptoed down the flight of stairs with her tin can. She clenched tight to the railing and held her breath. When she reached the apartment door of The Man Downstairs, she knocked once and stepped back.
“Give me Puddles, my porcelain pink piggy bank, and the rest of my coins! And give them back now!” Coral said. She sounded more like an adult than a child.
Slowly, the door cracked open, and an ugly hand placed Puddles in the hallway and slammed the door shut. Coral picked him up, only to find that he was empty. She shook him and didn’t hear one clanking of a coin.
“What happened to my coin collection?” Coral called to The Man Downstairs through the door. “You stole my savings!”
“I used the money to get food for my kids!” The Man Downstairs called through the door. “I couldn’t let them go hungry.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Coral said. She felt so guilty for jumping to conclusions about her neighbor. “I’ve been skipping your door when I gave out my coins, and you needed them the most. I’m so sorry! Please forgive me.”
“Yeah, whatever,” The Man Downstairs moaned.
“I’m so glad that I could help you,” Coral said. “I promise to stop at your door from now on when I give out coins, but you have to promise to never steal Puddles again.”
“Fine, I promise never to steal the piggy bank again,” The Man Downstairs called. “See you later, kid.”
Coral walked back up the stairs with Puddles and her empty tin can. She sat the tin can beneath the heating vent and waited for the next batch of coins to fall from the ceiling. The next morning, Coral filled Puddles and the tin can with coins. Before she headed outside to the streets of New York City with her mother, she stopped by the apartment of The Man Downstairs and slid all the dollar coins from her collection beneath his door. She knew that every small coin that she gave away would make a big difference in the world.
Copyright 2015 Jennifer Waters
Sequel to "The Man Upstairs: The Story of Coral Graf and Coins from a Tin Can" (1/3/15).
Dedicated to my grandmother, Augusta Renner Graf Waters.
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