Toss Up

My relationship with Daniel was born from sheer luck. 

When he drove to my dingy college apartment to pick me up for our first date, his gas tank was nearly on E. I took a risk and assumed he was the joking type, so I made a cheeky comment about calling Triple-A. 

"Don't you ever bargain with your fate?" He asked, smiling. 

Daniel looked at me with a certain sparkle in his eye, one I'd only seen in movies. In a matter of hours, he had pulled me into his orbit, and I never wanted to come back down to Earth. 

From that day forward, we relied on nothing but hope for the best when it came to us. Rather than calling ahead to high-end restaurants when we felt like spending beyond our means, we walked right in and prayed that a no-show reservation resulted in an empty table for two. (Daniel swore escargot only tasted good when the universe led you to it.)

Some people rely on the alignment of the planets when deciding their days, but not Daniel. If life was a casino cloaked in cigarette smoke, and we were all players begging for a big win, Daniel was the rookie who always lucked out. He held every decision he had to make, no matter how small, in his hands like a pair of dice. Three careful shakes and he’d let go.

His blind optimism, like that of a wide-eyed child, worked in his favor for quite a while. One cold November when we were a week late on our rent, he baked our landlord a red velvet cake as a “please don’t kick us out” gesture. 

“Are you sure he even likes that?” I asked with my head in my hands. 

“He looks like a red velvet guy, doesn’t he?”

Of course, it worked. 

“You two caught me on a good day,” our landlord said, cradling the baking dish like a newborn. “This was my mother’s favorite. She would have been 95 today.” 

Eventually, Daniel’s luck began to run out. He was a magician past his prime, with a bag of tricks that no longer worked. I guess that made me the costumed assistant ready for another gig.

As tired as I was of living on the edge, I knew that I still loved him. The thought of breaking up was terrifying. Who was I without him? I was afraid I would never see life as mysterious and exciting again. 

When I finally worked up the courage to tell him how I was feeling, he didn’t respond for twenty minutes. I had never seen him so quiet, so still. His eyes lingered on mine, just like they did in that beat-up Civic years ago.

“Is this because I only won $1 on the scratch-off last week? Baby, I know it doesn’t mean much but I have a feeling that –” 

I interrupted him, shocked at what was coming out of his mouth. 

“Dan, are you serious? I don’t care about the damn lotto ticket. I care about us, about you, but I just can’t live like this anymore.”

We began yelling at each other. Our words hit like arrows, and I wished I had worse aim. Daniel ended up packing a bag and driving to his brother’s apartment across town. For the first time in years, I slept alone. 

The next few days blurred together. He would call me, but I wouldn’t pick up. I just wasn’t sure what to say. A week after our fight, my mom managed to drag me out of the dark cave my bedroom had become and took me out to lunch. She insisted we sit outside.

“So, sweetheart, have you thought at all about what you’re going to do?”

I shifted in my seat. Answering her question would mean facing reality, facing the decision I had to make. 

“Well, I don’t really know,” I sighed, breaking apart the top bun of my hamburger. My appetite had withered away. 

My mom crossed her arms and gave me a halfhearted smile. It was the same smile she gave me the first time I brought Daniel home. Seeing it a second time made me realize maybe her first impression wasn’t a good one. 

“Well, I know he’s not the most conventional guy. Maybe you have to go about this differently,” she said before taking a sip of sparkling water. 

I ended up changing the conversation, but what she said lingered in my mind. Later that night as I was getting ready to crawl back into bed, the old mason jar I used to collect spare change caught my eye. At that moment, something clicked. 

I was holding this decision in my hands, ready to roll. While I still had the courage, I quickly called Daniel. He picked up after one ring. 

“I have an idea. Meet me at the park tomorrow afternoon,” I said as confidently as I could.

A few seconds went by. 

“Why? Can’t I just come back home so we can talk?”

“Come on Daniel, don't you ever bargain with your fate?” 

. . .

I was sitting on an especially uncomfortable bench, wondering if I had made a mistake. I thought about the fight again. How angry I was, how disappointed Daniel looked before he walked out the door. How badly I wanted to go back to the beginning before our relationship felt like wearing a heavy down jacket on a scorching summer day. 

I crossed my arms and took a deep breath. I looked up and glanced at the parking lot to find Daniel getting out of his car, shoving his hands in his pockets. A lump formed in my throat, and my eyes started to well. He was wearing his favorite T-shirt, the one I bought him during our first trip away together. 

I scooted over to make room, and he sat down next to me gingerly. 

“Hi,” he said softly. 

We exchanged a few pleasantries. He told me about his brother’s new dog and how she wouldn’t stop peeing on his duffle bag. I laughed, genuinely, for the first time in days. I would miss spending time with his family. 

“So, why did you want to meet here?” He asked. 

“We always talked about coming here, remember? But never got around to it.” I said. 

He nodded slowly, looking out at the lake we were facing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. 

He took my hand and squeezed it. The lump in my throat had returned, but this time I started to cry. After a few moments, I wiped my face with my cardigan sleeve and pulled a quarter from my pocket. 

Daniel let out a chuckle. 

“We’re flipping a coin?” He asked.

I nodded, sniffling. 

“This is too hard for me to decide on my own.” 

He squeezed my hand again before carefully letting go.

“Heads we stay together, tails we break up,” I said firmly. 

I made a fist, placed the quarter on top of my thumb and closed my eyes. 

“One… two… three,” Daniel said.

I opened my eyes. The quarter flew toward the sidewalk in front of us. It was as if time had slowed to a crawl – I was watching the coin in slow motion, on the edge of my seat. It landed on the cement and spun three times before coming to a stop. It had landed on its edge, nestled in a small crack. 

My jaw dropped. 

Daniel raised his eyebrows and looked at me. 

“What happens now?” He said, grinning. 

I looked up at the sky and laughed.