Decisions

“We are running out of time. You need to make a decision. Are you in, or are you out?”

How did I find myself here? Standing in the pouring rain under a flickering streetlight staring into the very face I had asked to help me so many years ago. His arm is outstretched with the hand I shook again reaching out for me. The car door is open and he is half leaning from its depths. I can see the determined expression on his face even with my eyes closed. This question I have been running from for the past ten years. This very question is where my life both begins and ends. Here standing in the rain between the future and the past, I make my stand.

It began with a flip of a coin. I was 15 years old. I won’t bore you with the details of my miserable upbringing. Just know that it was miserable and it will help pave the way for what came after. He found me on the steps of a church sometime after midnight. I am not religious and never was. But, the church always took in lost lambs and I needed a safe haven. I was outside to smoke a cigarette in the cold. Snow was beginning to come down and it would muffle the voices just beyond those church steps. My hands are already numb and my clothes leave me with a permanent chill. I inhale and pull that deadly venom into my lungs.

“You know that won’t help anything.” His voice is rough. I turn my head slightly and take him in. He’s not old but he’s not young and he’s wearing a dark coat. It looks warm. I envy that warmth.

“So they tell me.” I reply. He comes over and takes a seat with just enough space between us so I can pretend I feel comfortable.

“But, I do know something that will help. The preacher tells me you need to get out of town.” I chuckle to myself. No one calls Pastor Mark a preacher. But, I enjoy the word the way he says it.

“I’m not looking to be saved or sold. So, you may want to leave before I start screaming.” I say with a half-hearted shrug. The man smiles and shakes his head but he scoots a little further from me all the same.

“I’m not suggesting any of that. It’s a job. A good one. One that allows you to travel and make your own money. On your terms. Here.” He pulls out a card and slides it between us. I take another inhale before I reach over to drag the card my way. It’s a black card with white font. I read the card and my eyes narrow. He chuckles and nods.

“I know. My reaction when I was approached was the same. But, I can attest that it’s all true and I’ve never been happier.” He offers. I read the lines again and once it sets in, I turn to face him to take him in more clearly.

“How did you decide?” I ask. He takes out a coin and flicks it at me. I catch it in the air over my head.

“Good reflexes. But, you will have to give up smoking. It won’t help with what we do.” I take the cigarette from my mouth and give it a hard look. I look to my side at the church doors. I look over to the snowy streets and cars dusted in white. I mash out the cigarette on the step between my legs. I examine the coin. It’s not one I am familiar with. It has a heads and a tails but they are nothing like the coins in the world I have viewed. It feels heavy and warm.

“I flipped a coin. I already knew what I was going to do before I flipped it. But, I flipped it all the same. Either way, I knew what I wanted before I had the coin in the air.” He answers. I turn the coin over again.

“Are you in or are you out?” He asks.

I can feel my brain bouncing around inside, searching for the answer. Searching deep in the recesses of all that is my at 15 years old mind. Assessing what the answer should be. But, he’s right, I already know. I take a deep breath. I hold it. I flip the coin in the air.

It was a good life. But, it was a hard life. I saw way too much and I never knew if today would be my last day. Many people I cared about didn’t make it. Each time was a new blow to my already dented exterior. I finally walked away at 27. I asked him to help me leave. He shook my hand and I started over. I put down roots. I bought a house plant. I met someone. Things were good for a while.

But, things never stay good long. Not when the world is run by people that want power over wellbeing. I couldn’t watch the news. The life I had constructed so carefully may as well have been made from tissue paper. My house plant died. The person left me. I found myself sitting on those same church steps at 37 years old.  Staring at the world with eyes both old and new. Wondering what my place in all of it was. Knowing I could change it but feeling that pain leak in behind that knowing. I could feel the coin in my pocket.

I called him and after three rings, I hung up. I was out. I should stay out. I passed by a bar with the TV on. It was blaring out about the latest shooting at a mall. 30 dead. My heart twisted. I could feel that coin’s weight even more as I forced my feet to keep moving. I sat on those steps every night when sleep eluded me again. And one night, just as he had so many years ago, that man showed up.

“We are running out of time. You need to make a decision. Are you in, or are you out?”

In the rain, I could feel the weight of the coin in my pocket. It brushed my knuckles as I dug my hand in. I pulled it out and took a deep breath. The coin was in the air. I already knew what the decision would be before it hit my hand. The coin flipped, the coin landed.