Fair Coin

by E. C. Myers

  “Where were you last night?” he asked.

  “At the store. Where else?” She tapped her cigarette into the ashtray. “Since we're on the subject, where were you? You weren't home when I left. And you're late again today. You know I need you to come straight home from school, Ephraim.”

  He sighed. “Don't turn this around on me, Mom.”

  She chuckled. “Who's the parent here?”

  “Sometimes I wonder.” Ephraim picked up the bottle of vodka. He screwed the cap on tight. “This has to stop.”

  “I know. I'm cutting back.”

  “So you're going to work tonight?”

  “I don't know if I'm up to it.”

  Ephraim sighed. “I'll call and tell Mr. Slovsky you aren't feeling well.” Her boss knew it was just a code for drunk off her ass, but he wouldn't raise much of a fuss, probably. If it wasn't too busy at the store tonight.

  “You're a good boy,” she said. She lay back down on the couch. He kissed her on the cheek and took the cigarette from her. He stamped it out in the ashtray.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  Even if you're hopeless.

  Ephraim went into the kitchen. There was no sign of vomit or purple pills or anything from the night before. That was a break—he hadn't been looking forward to cleaning up that mess. Maybe it had all been a bad dream, or maybe he was losing his mind. Or that coin actually could make wishes come true. Whatever the explanation, he was glad she was home and alive. They'd been given a second chance. He pressed the speed-dial for the ShopRite where his mother worked.

  “Let me guess,” Mr. Slovsky said. “She isn't feeling well.”

  Mr. Slovsky obviously had caller ID, though this had become enough of a routine that he may have simply taken a lucky guess.

  “Hi, Mr. Slovsky. Yeah, my mother…she's sick. I'm sorry, but she isn't going to make it in tonight.”

  “I am so surprised. Maybe I don't feel like coming to work sometimes, but every night, here I am.”

  She almost died last night, Ephraim wanted to scream. He squeezed the phone. “She'll make it up to you. I promise.”

  “You promise? It's her promise I want. You are always a solid worker,” Mr. Slovsky said.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “No more of this, understand? She has to get her act together. I mean it this time.” Mr. Slovsky lowered his voice. “I notice some missing alcohol. I hope I don't find out it was Madeline. Our stock boy, he's not as good as you. It could have been an accounting error. Once.”

  Ephraim sighed. “Thanks, Mr. Slovsky.”

  “It would be best for you to keep an eye on her. You want a summer job, you let me know. She works when you're around. Not for her boss, but her son? Well.”

  “I'll think about it, sir. Thank you.”

  Ephraim slammed the phone into its cradle. He couldn't believe his mother was actually stealing liquor now. If she lost her job, he doubted she'd be able to find another one. She probably wouldn't even look all that hard, when she couldn't be bothered to go to the one she already had. For all their complaining about her boss, Mr. Slovsky had been more than generous with her.

  Ephraim didn't want to lose his summer covering her shift.

  He searched for the bag with the duplicate wallet, watch, and keys in her purse, but it was gone, just as mysteriously as the body had disappeared from the hospital. At least Ephraim still had the coin.

  He went to the desk in his room, shoved the keyboard and comics aside, and put the quarter down in front of him, heads up. It looked so normal. He reached into his coin jar and pulled out another one for comparison.

  They both had George Washington on the front, but the pictures were reversed—one faced to the left, and the other faced right, with a slightly different portrait. They had the same inscription all around, though: “UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,” “LIBERTY,” “IN GOD WE TRUST.” They both even had a tiny P, which meant they had been struck in the Philadelphia Mint.

  He weighed the two coins in each hand. The magic coin seemed slightly heavier, and shinier. Maybe it had actual silver in it? Starting in 1965, quarters were made of copper and nickel; since this one was newer, they might have changed the composition again.

  He turned each coin over. Neither of them bore the standard eagle on the reverse side, but they both included “E PLURIBUS UNUM,” whatever that meant. The one on the left had an image of the Statue of Liberty under the words “New York 1788,” indicating the year that New York ratified the Constitution and became a state. The inscription read “Gateway to Freedom,” and 2001 was printed at the bottom: the year the coin was issued.

  So if that information also applied to the magic quarter, Puerto Rico had become a state in 1998, which was obviously wrong. Its caption read “The Enchanted Island,” and 2008 was marked as the year of issue—a year before the territory coins were struck. Ephraim tapped the coin with his index finger thoughtfully, then fired up his computer.

  After a few minutes on Wikipedia, he learned that the frog in the picture on the coin was called a coquí, a kind of Puerto Rican mascot, and he'd confirmed what he already knew: Puerto Rico was definitely not a state. The last vote on its status had been in 1998, the same year printed on the coin, but it had resulted in the island remaining a Commonwealth of the United States. And the actual territory quarter for Puerto Rico had a completely different design and was issued in 2009. That certainly made this coin an anomaly. But magic? It was far more likely to be a novelty coin minted for a private collector.

  Ephraim pulled out the note he'd found in his locker. Make a wish…

  All right. He would make another wish, to prove the first hadn't been a coincidence or some delusion.

  “I wish my Mom wasn't so messed up.” No, he should be clearer. “I mean, I wish my mother wasn't a drunk and had a better job and acted a little more…like a mother.”

  And flip the coin to make it come true. How had the note writer even known that he'd found the quarter? Another mystery on top of all the others.

  He flipped the coin. His toss was awkward, and he failed to catch it on its wobbly downward arc. It bounced off the edge of his desk, landing heads up on the carpet. He leaned over and scooped it up.

  Was the coin a little warmer than before? He felt a head rush, a brief moment of dizziness like last time, vision blurring for just a second, but otherwise…nothing.

  He'd probably just stood up too fast; nothing magic about that. He went out into the living room, but his mother was still asleep on the couch, just as he'd left her. If the coin had improved things, she would be at work right now.

  He felt like an idiot. He had actually started to believe—had wanted to believe—that the coin could grant his wishes. He dropped both quarters into his collection jar and tightened the lid.

  He went to throw the note out, but he couldn't find it.

  It had been right there, but it was no longer on his desk. He rummaged through the trash in case it had fallen in, checked all over the floor, but it had completely vanished.

  Now he was really getting worried about his own mental health.

  Ephraim woke the next day to the delicious aroma of cooking bacon.

  The lamp beside his bed was still on, its bulb overpowered by morning sunlight that streamed through the window. When he sat up, a thick hardcover copy of The Lord of the Rings slipped from the bed and thumped against the carpet. He picked up the book and tried to smooth out its bent pages by folding them in the opposite direction, but that only made it worse. He closed the book and hoped that its considerable weight would flatten the creases.

  When he'd seen Jena reading it, he figured he would try to impress her by reading it himself, make some connection with her, but she hadn't noticed him lugging it between classes for the last month. Now that school was over, he might as well return it to the library. Thanks to the movies and the Internet, he could probably fake it anyway, if he ever had the chance for a real conversation with her.

  He dropped the
book on his desk then pulled off his rumpled T-shirt. He sniffed the armpits and crumpled it into a ball—it was definitely past its prime after two days. He hated sleeping in his clothes. It always made him feel like he hadn't actually slept, that the day was just a continuation of the day before.

  Oddly, his laundry basket was empty. He'd washed his clothes last week but had never gotten around to putting them away. When he checked his dresser, everything was neatly placed in the drawers, the way his mom used to fold them when she had bothered with housework.

  He pulled on a fresh shirt, tried to smooth his hair, and headed toward the sound of clattering pans.

  Breakfast was on the kitchen table. An actual breakfast. Crispy bacon was piled on a plate, with a paper napkin soaking up the grease. There was a platter of french toast, and a glass of orange juice waited for him at his place.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.” His mom smiled at him from the stove. “I was about to wake you.”

  “Mom?” Ephraim stepped into the kitchen. The air was smoky, not from cigarettes but from whatever she was frying in the pan. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought you should have a good start to summer vacation. Don't expect this every morning.”

  “But…you don't cook.” Not anymore. He had become accustomed to cold cereals and flavored oatmeal from paper packets, or cold PopTarts from foil packages when he was running late. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his mother out of bed before eight in the morning, let alone up and dressed and cheerful.

  “Are you all right, hon?” she said.

  When he passed the stove, his mother put a light hand on his shoulder to stop him. She pecked him on the cheek then tousled his already-tousled hair.

  “You were up late again, weren't you?” she said. “I just put some coffee on.”

  There was a squat coffeemaker on the counter. It was shiny, all bright chrome and black plastic. “When did we get that?”

  “Do you have a fever? Let me feel your head.” She reached for his forehead, but he ducked away.

  “I'm not sick!” Ephraim grabbed a mug and poured a half-cup of coffee from the coffeemaker. It smelled better than the instant Folgers coffee his mom favored. It tasted better too. He took it to the table and sat down. “How are you, Mom?”

  “Nice try. I'm worried about you. You don't sound like yourself.”

  She was one to talk. She seemed like a different person, and she looked good, better than usual. Her auburn hair was brushed and tied back in a high ponytail that made her look a few years younger. Her face had a healthy color, and she seemed slimmer, too.

  “What are you doing up so early?” he asked.

  She slid scrambled eggs onto a plate and placed it in front of him. “A little thing called work. You'll learn all about it one day.” As if he hadn't been picking up shifts for her and working summers since he'd started high school.

  “You're on the morning shift today?” Slovsky sometimes had her work doubles to make up for missed hours.

  “Now I'm really worried. Is something wrong, Eph?”

  “Never mind.” Was he still asleep? He wondered if he was dreaming all of this, but if he was, he didn't want to wake up yet. Not until after he'd had some of that bacon.

  “How was your last day of school? Sorry we didn't have a chance to talk last night. I guess I fell asleep on the couch.”

  Because you were drunk again. He shrugged. “I got an award,” he said.

  “Really? For what? Let me see.”

  Ephraim went to his room and brought her the certificate. He sat back down and forked some eggs into his mouth.

  “Perfect attendance.” She chuckled.

  “What?”

  “I'm proud of you.” She almost kept a straight face then laughed again. He snatched it away from her.

  “As well you should be. I value my education.”

  “Sure it isn't just that girl you like? Jena Kim?”

  Ephraim choked. “How did you know about her?”

  “You've only been mooning over Jena since the second grade. What was that school play she was in?”

  He'd never mentioned his crush to his mother, and she had never cared enough about his life to take an interest. Ephraim picked up a bacon strip and crunched it. It crumbled then melted in his mouth. Delicious.

  “You're quiet all of a sudden. Penny for your thoughts,” she said.

  A penny…The coin. His wish! He slapped his fork down on the table and sat straight up.

  “Now what's wrong?” A note of impatience slipped into her voice. She shook a cigarette out of a pack then picked up her lighter. “I'm trying, Eph. I really am.”

  He had used the coin to make two wishes, and they each seemed to come true. That was more than coincidence. More than a hallucination, unless he had completely lost hold of reality.

  It was magic. He had a magic coin.

  He smiled. “Everything's perfect, Mom. Thanks for the breakfast.”

  She lit the cigarette. She took a drag and blew the smoke away from the table. “You sure there isn't anything you'd like to tell me?” she said.

  He swallowed. “I…love you, Mom.”

  “That's just your stomach talking.” She stood and untied her apron, cigarette dangling from her mouth. She brushed off her sleeve and patted her hair to make sure it was all in place. “I better get going. I don't know how much of this you're actually going to eat, but it made me feel better to do something. I know I've been at work a lot lately and I want to make it up to you.”

  She slung her apron over the back of her chair. “Any plans for your first day of freedom?”

  “I'm just going to hang out with Nathan,” he said around a mouthful of toast. “At the library.”

  She smiled. “Give the girl some space, huh?”

  Ephraim coughed.

  “And clean up before you go. Just pop everything in the dishwasher.”

  Ephraim looked up. “We have a dishwasher too?”

  His mother shook her head. “What's gotten into you? I hoped you were going to skip this whole phase, whatever it is.”

  As soon as his mother had gone, Ephraim raced back to his room. He took his coin collection and shook the jar out onto his unmade bed. He sifted through the jingling coins frantically. What if it had disappeared like everything else?

  Ephraim's mother had changed so much since last night, but she had been that way once, when his father was around. Before things got bad. He couldn't believe he had her back.

  There it was! He plucked the magic coin from the rest. The metal hummed gently against his skin as he turned it over and over.

  He didn't know what his next wish would be, but he would have to plan it carefully. He didn't want to rush it—for all he knew, the third wish could be his last. They always came in threes, didn't they?

  The summer was looking a lot more promising.

  Ephraim locked his bicycle to the rack in front of the Summerside Public Library. He paused before the stone lions flanking the entrance. They were half-scale replicas of the lions at the main branch of the New York City Public Library—a bit ostentatious for a Westchester suburb like Summerside, but they had always impressed Ephraim. He'd named them Bert and Ernie when he was a little kid. Bert, the one on the left, was his favorite, even though they were mirror images of each other.

  Ephraim patted Bert's left paw on his way up the stairs. He passed the book return box and pushed his way through the turnstile, headed for the circulation desk.

  He used to come here every Saturday afternoon with his father. Ephraim had never really enjoyed reading much more than comics, but he liked spending time with his father so he'd always looked forward to those trips. He would gather an armful of books to take home, for his father to read with him at bedtime through the week.

  Some things never changed, Ephraim thought. He was still using the library as an excuse to get closer to someone. He pulled The Lord of the Rings out of his backpack, lightening the load significantl
y, and approached the circulation desk.

  Jena sat behind the counter, her face bent over an open book, of course. Her short hair curtained down on either side of her face. He was surprised to see her wearing a tank top; he was even more surprised that he could see straight down the front of it. He felt faint.

  “Checking something out?” she said, eyes still glued to the page.

  “Uh,” Ephraim said. How did she know he'd been staring at her?

  Jena looked up and pushed her bangs back. “Hi, Ephraim. Checking out?” she repeated.

  “Oh. Returning, actually.” He placed the book on the counter. She stood and pulled it toward her. She ran her fingers over the worn cover gently, then turned it over and aimed a scanner at the barcode on the back.

  “Getting something else today? Or are just you here for the computers too?” she asked.

  “Too?” Ephraim responded.

  “Nathan's over there already. Better not let Mrs. Reynolds catch him trying to download porn again.”

  Jena slid the book onto the cart behind her desk, then returned to her reading as though Ephraim weren't still standing in front of her.

  Well, what had he expected? She was at work, she probably didn't have time to chat with friends. And he wasn't really a friend. But she didn't look exactly busy, either—there weren't many other people in the library this early, on the first day of summer vacation.

  “Hey,” Nathan said when Ephraim rolled a chair over.

  “You did a pretty good job on Michael yesterday,” Ephraim said. “I meant to call to find out how you pulled it off.” He'd been so distracted by the situation with his mother, and the coin, it had completely slipped his mind.

  “Say what now?” Nathan glanced at Ephraim.

  “I saw him at the hospital last night. After you schooled him.”

  “You've got it backwards. That asshole shoved me in a locker.” Nathan rubbed his shoulders. “I bet he used to shove the circles into the square pegs in kindergarten too.”

  Ephraim laughed. “He did. But you finally got back at him. How'd you escape from the locker, anyway?” Ephraim usually had to rescue Nathan after the coast was clear.