Fair Coin

by E. C. Myers

He deserved every bit of her resentment. He took some comfort in the idea that there might be a parallel universe out there where he hadn't so completely screwed up, where maybe he'd made different choices and he and Jena were still friends, or even a couple.

  There was a way Ephraim could make it up to her—to prove that he could be responsible for his actions. All it would take was one more wish.

  Since Ephraim wasn't welcome at the library while Jena was there, and he couldn't hang out with Nathan, he spent the day reading in Greystone Park. He also hoped he might run into Jena there. He knew she walked to work every day, and the fastest route required cutting through the park, past the memorial fountain.

  Eventually the skateboarders and the mothers with strollers left the park, and Ephraim was alone. Jena hurried into the plaza just a short while before the park closed at dusk. When she spotted Ephraim, she veered around the fountain, away from him. Ephraim rose and held his hands out, palms open.

  “Can I talk to you?” Ephraim said.

  “I don't want to see you right now. I can't believe you followed me.”

  “I didn't. I was waiting for you.”

  “Like that's much better.”

  “I just need to say something. It's not an excuse, not an explanation.”

  “I don't want to hear it. I need some time to process all this,” she said.

  “This can't wait. I have to do this before I change my mind.” Ephraim flashed the quarter at her, tucked between his first and middle fingers, like he'd seen magicians do after pulling a coin from behind someone's ear.

  Jena looked frightened. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I'm going to fix things,” he said.

  “No, Ephraim.” She bit her lower lip and stepped toward him, her eyes focused on the coin. She was close enough to see that it was the same coin. “You said it was unpredictable. Too dangerous to use.”

  “It is,” he said. “I keep hurting people, and it has to stop.”

  “Give it to me, Ephraim. I'll bury it somewhere. Or we can try to melt it down…”

  “It isn't the One Ring,” he said. “And where are we going to find a volcano in Summerside?”

  “Huh?” she asked.

  “You know, like in The Lord of the Rings.”

  She had never heard of the books or movies, and she wasn't messing with him. He swallowed.

  “Uh, never mind then,” he said. “Jena, I'm sorry. I really am. Even if you don't want to hear it, even if you don't believe me. I only used the coin because I—I wanted to get to know you. I didn't think I'd have a chance with you otherwise. You don't remember, but you didn't always like me the way you do now. The way you did, anyway.”

  He shook his head.

  “It was wrong to use the coin to make you interested in me,” he continued. “I may have ruined the possibility of friendship, but I needed you to be here for this.” He clenched his hand. “I'm going to make one last wish.”

  Jena took another step toward him.

  “Don't worry,” he said. “Trust me.”

  “I can't.”

  Jena grabbed for the hand holding the coin. He jerked it away, and while she held onto his arm he said the words in a rush, “I wish this coin would go back to wherever it came from!”

  Jena stared at him in surprise. The coin was getting uncomfortably hot in his fist.

  “I have to flip it,” he said.

  Jena nodded.

  “But don't let go of me,” he added.

  She held onto his other arm as he flicked the coin into the fountain like a skipping stone. It actually bounced on the water once before it ricocheted off Atlas's left foot and sank. Heads or tails, it didn't matter anymore.

  Ephraim and Jena looked into the water fountain. He couldn't spot where the quarter had ended up; now it was just one quarter among many, unless it had—hopefully—disappeared.

  Jena sat down right on the cobblestones of the plaza.

  “Wow,” she said. “You got rid of it.”

  Ephraim felt a sense of loss mixed with relief. “What did you think I was going to wish for?” He leaned against the rim of the fountain. “I meant what I said. I'm sorry. I wanted to show you that I'm done with messing around with other people's lives. At least, magically.”

  “I'm impressed,” Jena said.

  “Can you forgive me?” Ephraim asked.

  “I don't know. This is a good start to that,” she said.

  “That's all I'm asking for.”

  “I appreciate the grand gesture, but it's not enough to make me feel better.”

  “Uh…what would make you feel better?” he asked.

  She climbed to her feet and drew closer to him. She leaned in to him, eyes half-closed. Surprised, he closed his eyes and leaned toward her. Jena put her hands on his shoulders.

  She shoved him hard, and he sprawled backward into the fountain.

  He thrashed around in the shallow water then sat up, coughing. Icy cold water showered down on him from the basin on Atlas's shoulders, and he gasped as he climbed to his feet. His soaked jeans dragged heavily and his sneakers squished. He had the nasty metallic taste of the water in his mouth.

  Jena crossed her arms. “See you at work tomorrow, Ephraim. Don't be late.”

  Ephraim ventured into the library the next day. Jena didn't even mention what had happened at the fountain; if he hadn't known better, he might have thought she'd forgotten all about it. Instead, she put him back to work, which was better than her avoiding him.

  Without the coin, Ephraim was forced to accept his current situation—the situation he'd created. Over the next few days, he was relieved not to have to worry about the sudden, sporadic changes initiated by the coin. He was busy enough getting used to life as his wishes had left it.

  It wasn't all bad. His mother was much happier working at an office job in the city and continuing to date Jim. Nathan was inseparable from Shelley Morales, like he'd always dreamed. Ephraim had made the right decision to part with the coin. Any changes he could have wished for would have been selfish ones. He still hoped he might be able to put his friendship with Nathan back on track eventually.

  And as for Jena…she remained friendly but distant in their interactions, which was disappointing but not discouraging. So he was surprised when she offered him her spare ticket for the July Fourth matinee of the Broadway musical Wicked.

  Jena made things very clear from the start: “This isn't a date. I just don't have anyone else to ask on short notice.” She'd ended up with an extra ticket because Mary had canceled on her at the last minute; their friendship had been strained since Ephraim had broken up with Mary and turned his attentions to Jena. Ephraim felt guilty enough about the whole situation, which he knew was basically his fault, to scrape up enough money for the ticket, even though he didn't even like musicals. It was still an opportunity to spend an afternoon with Jena. He hoped that with time and luck he might get her to like him again one day—without any magical shortcuts.

  Ephraim bicycled to the Summerside train station, once again missing Nathan and his old car. He almost wished he'd gotten a car of his own out of the coin before getting rid of it. He arrived a minute before the train was scheduled and raced down the platform to meet Jena.

  Ephraim tugged at his tie and tried to scratch at an itch along the side of his neck, where sweat was trickling down his starched shirt collar.

  “Where's your top hat and cane?” Jena laughed. She was in a yellow sundress that fit her perfectly, though she kept pulling the front up surreptitiously and tugging at the hemline.

  “Did I overdo it?” Ephraim asked. He'd never been to a Broadway show before, but he thought he should dress up. He had also wanted to impress Jena. Maybe making her laugh was almost as good.

  “You look handsome,” Jena said. She closed the tattered paperback of Wicked she'd been reading while waiting for him.

  “Thanks. You look great,” he said.

  They crowded together onto the packed Metr
o-North train headed for New York City. There were no available seats, so they stood in the middle of the car. Jena leaned against the train doors and stared out at the Hudson River as the train raced along it.

  “It's too bad Mary couldn't make it,” Ephraim said. He knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left his mouth.

  “You didn't have to come.”

  “That's not what I meant. I meant…I guess she's still upset. About us.”

  Jena bit her lip and stared at the back of her book. She opened the back cover and looked at the last page.

  “There's no ‘us,’ Ephraim. We're just friends.”

  “Right. Maybe I should talk to her?”

  “At some point you have to stop blaming yourself for everything. Not all of this is your fault.” She worried a page between her fingers, turning it back and forth, curling the corner of it over.

  “Isn't it?” Ephraim asked.

  “No. A lot of it is, of course. You screwed up, big time,” she replied.

  “Well, that does make me feel better,” he said.

  “But. You did the right thing in the end and you regret your mistakes. So stop beating yourself up over it. If you can't forgive yourself, how can you expect me to?”

  Ephraim stuffed his hands into his pants pockets and stared down at his shoes. He'd shined them before he left, but they were already scuffed and dusty. He fiddled with the loose change in his pocket, but he still missed the comforting feel of the coin in his hand.

  “Please stop acting like I'll break if you look at me the wrong way,” she said.

  He looked up. “Okay.”

  “I'm still angry with you, but I'm getting over it. We wouldn't be having this conversation otherwise.”

  “I just feel like I should do something. Now that I don't have the coin, I feel kind of…powerless.”

  “The coin wasn't the answer to your problems.” Jena lowered her voice as a stout train conductor approached them. “You know that. It only made things worse,” she said.

  “Tickets, please,” the conductor said. He sounded like one of the carnival barkers at the Westchester County Fair.

  Jena tucked her book under an arm and rifled through her purse.

  “Shoot,” Ephraim said. “I didn't have time to buy one at the station.”

  The conductor thumbed through a yellow pad of tickets. “Fare's five dollars extra on board the train.”

  “Five dollars?” Ephraim said.

  “Extra. The total is twelve dollars.”

  Jena handed over a small paper ticket. “You can use this for both of us,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Ephraim said.

  “Very generous. You're a lucky guy,” the conductor said. He punched two holes in the ticket and handed them a torn strip of cardboard with zones marked on it. “Happy Fourth of July,” he said, then moved off.

  The train lurched into the Marble Hill station, and two seats opened up. Ephraim and Jena grabbed them. Jena turned to look out the window as the train pulled out.

  “I'll buy the return ticket,” Ephraim said.

  She nodded, as though distracted. They rode in silence for a minute before she turned to him.

  “Ephraim, you can't fix everything. You have to accept that you aren't responsible for anyone's decisions but your own.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. He forced his eyes up to her face and looked at her lime-green cat-eye glasses. “But if you really want to help, there might be something you can do,” she said.

  “What's on your mind?”

  She twisted her fingers together in her lap. “Look,” she said. “I think…I think Nat's been hurting Shelley. I saw a bruise on her arm; she tried to hide it with makeup.”

  “She plays tennis, doesn't she?” Nathan had dragged Ephraim to the courts to watch more than one doubles match with the twins. He'd even convinced Ephraim to join the club with him in junior high, until they were practically driven out. Ephraim knew how hard those tennis balls hit off a powerful serve.

  “Then why would she try to hide it?”

  “Vanity? I don't know. I just wouldn't automatically assume that her boyfriend's abusing her without any proof.”

  “You've seen the way she acts around him. She hangs on his every word, does whatever he tells her. Sometimes I swear she acts like she's afraid of him.”

  “She may just really like him.”

  “If that's how you think someone acts when they like someone, you might be hopeless after all,” Jena said. She faced the window again. “I know her, and something's wrong. I don't trust him. I know he was your friend, but…”

  “That Nathan wasn't my friend,” Ephraim said. “If he's hurt Shelley…shouldn't we just ask her?”

  “She denies it.”

  “What does Mary think?” he asked.

  “She hates Nat. But she hasn't seen him hurt her, either.”

  “So what do you think I can do about this?”

  “Guys talk about girls, don't they?” Jena said.

  “I assume about as much as girls talk about guys,” Ephraim replied. “But Nathan barely talks to me now. Certainly not about Shelley. Maybe you should ask one of his football buddies.” The thought of Nathan hanging out with Michael Gupal sent a shiver down his spine. It highlighted just how much Ephraim had messed things up.

  “You know him better than anyone. How long were you friends?”

  “Ten years. But that might as well have been someone else.”

  “Still. If you spend some time with him, you could bring her up. You were dating her sister, after all; compare notes or something equally disgusting. Do you know him well enough to tell when he's lying?”

  Ephraim nodded. “I think so,” he said.

  The truth was, he'd been afraid to try to strike up a friendship with Nathan again. Seeing him so changed only made the loss of his friendship hurt more. It deepened his guilt. He was in no hurry to force the issue.

  “What are we going to do if it turns out he is hitting her?” Ephraim asked.

  Jena scowled. “I'd start by figuring out how to break them up,” she said.

  “And if he isn't hurting her?”

  “Don't you see? If they break up, Mary gets her sister back, you have a chance to get your friend back”—she wrinkled her nose—“and I get both my best friends back. And maybe if you help, that'll convince Mary that you aren't such an asshole too. We all win.”

  “Seems like you have other reasons for resenting their relationship. Even if we could end it, I don't know if we should. Especially if Shelley's happy with him.” If he still knew Nathan at all, he was happy with her, and Ephraim didn't want to take that away from him. He hoped that Nathan was innocent.

  “So you won't help?” she asked.

  Ephraim loosened his tie. “I'm just being cautious, that's all. I'm trying not to force people to change—as you know, that only causes trouble. But I'll try. I'll talk to Nathan, for what good it will do. If I have the opportunity.”

  Jena turned to him again. “Thanks, Ephraim. I appreciate it.”

  Her face brightened. “Hey, after the show you should come over for the Twilight Zone marathon. They run it every year on the Syfy Channel.”

  “Haven't you seen them all?” he asked. He'd noticed rows of DVDs of the old series on the shelves in her living room.

  “I have, but that's not the point. I haven't seen them with you yet,” she said.

  Jena didn't mention Ephraim's promise again, which he thought was a sign that she at least trusted him to take care of the situation. It wasn't that he'd forgotten about it, he was just putting it off. Soon a week had passed, and he still hadn't come up with a plan to broach the subject with Nathan. Then Nathan made it easier for him—he came looking for Ephraim first.

  That morning, Ephraim got off the bus at the stop in front of Greystone Park and found Nathan seated in the shelter. Nathan hadn't ridden a bus since he could drive, and he made no move to get on the bus now. He just sat there with his legs spread
out and his arms crossed over his chest. It was obvious that he'd been waiting for Ephraim.

  Nathan seemed less imposing than the last time Ephraim had seen him—less like a jock and more like his old friend. Was it possible the effects of the coin could wear off with time? The idea filled Ephraim with hope. Nathan's long blond hair was flat, with strands plastered to his sweaty forehead and neck. He wore his familiar wire-rimmed glasses, perched on the end of his nose. The one big difference was about two days of stubble that made him look a little older than his sixteen years.

  “Hey, Nathan. Nat. How's it going?” Ephraim said.

  Nathan's eyes bore into him. “Ephraim. It's good to see you again.”

  “I've been hoping to catch up with you.”

  “Yeah. I've been around.”

  “So, uh…how are you and Shelley doing?” Ephraim said.

  Nathan blinked. “Mary Shelley's…fine,” he said hesitantly.

  “I know you fantasize about both of them, but I was referring to your girlfriend.” Nathan must have been really out of it today. Usually he couldn't shut up about Shelley.

  Nathan laughed. “Oh, yeah. Of course. You know how it is, I think of them as one person sometimes. But Shelley. Yeah, she's great.”

  Ephraim swallowed. “It's just that Jena said she saw a nasty bruise on Shelley's arm. Do you know what caused it?”

  Nathan cocked his head back and eyed Ephraim. He laughed. “You think I hit her,” Nathan said.

  “Did you?” Ephraim asked.

  “Why would I? I love her.”

  “I don't know.”

  Nathan's eyes widened. “What if I did hurt her? What would you do? Punish me? Use your magic coin?”

  “Don't get so defen—” Ephraim stared at Nathan. “I thought you didn't remember the coin.”

  Nathan laughed again, but it sounded hollow. Mean. “You haven't been using it lately.”

  How did he know that? “We don't need the coin,” Ephraim said. “You have what you want. I have what I want.” Or at least a chance at getting it, if he didn't screw things up again.

  “But I want more,” Nathan said.

  Nathan stood and advanced toward Ephraim. Ephraim stumbled backward.