The Copper PennyA Story by BrynnaW.The bar wasn’t at its usual hustle and
bustle. Many seats were empty and the taps leaked more beer than what was being
poured. “Mary’s,” it was called, the name high above the door in pink; ironic for
such a place. Inside, neon lights labeled each beer available but there were
few people to gaze upon such fermented glory. Surrounding the bar were several
wooden tables etched with various designs, none of which were occupied with
more than one person. At one of the tables was a woman who played with her
wedding ring, an untouched beer beside her. Her gaze crawled upward from the
heavily carved table to the dusty windows, where she could see her SUV was
parked. Perhaps she was looking for an escape or maybe she was thinking of her
child she had recently dropped off at her mother’s. A
man sat in the corner table watching her with pity. His table was covered with
empty beer bottles and he began to down another to steady his nerves. The woman
glanced at him, her nose scrunched with distaste. She could see sweat
glistening on his forehead and his hand lifting the neck of the bottle for each
long gulp of the liquid courage. At his feet, though, was a bag; a military
bag. The woman smirked to herself, seeing him just as unfortunate as her. Then,
he stood. He didn’t sway or shake or show that the alcohol had any effect on
him. The man grabbed his bag and set it next to the woman’s table, gesturing to
ask if he could sit down. However, before she could deny him, he sat down
across from her and tapped his knuckles on the wood nervously. “Shelly?”
the man asked and she nodded, mindlessly toying with her ring. “Name’s Theo,”
he held out his hand for her but she peered into his face with distrust. “You’re
not here for the drink, I presume?” “I
thought I was. Why does it matter?” Theo
shook his head, a slight smile lining his lips, “You’re waiting for someone.” “No.
I was but... well, they didn’t show.
So, I came here.” “Your
husband.” Shelly
nodded again as though her head worked on a spring meant for a toy. This man
was invading the little comfort she had at this place and she saw no point in
focusing on a man who reeked more of alcohol than a dozen sleazy men at a
stripper’s club. “Penny
for your thoughts?” he asked and quickly dug around in his pocket until he
produced a penny, dirt smeared over Abe’s face. “Listen,” he began but stopped
suddenly, digging through his pocket a second time before shaking his head. The
dull copper balanced on his finger and he flicked it with his thumb, causing it
to jump out of his hand and dance wildly in circles upon the table. “In
the war, every second counts, every life counts. One thought can be our last
so, we try to keep that good thought with us no matter where we go. The
bombs... they crashed down on us out of nowhere. It was an ambush.” The
penny seemed to slow, each turn sounding to every tick of the clock. It hit the
beer bottle but bounced back to the center of the table in effort to keep spinning. “During
that ambush, we all looked out for each other. We’re all brothers practically.
Sometimes, though, our brothers leave us and we can only wonder what their
final second is. There’s just so little time in this world and so much hell.”
Theo watched as the penny tipped off the edge of the table, flipping like a
falling man reaching for the ledge, for his life. It landed on the concrete to
continue its soon ending journey and as the penny began to wave around its
edges, saying its goodbye, he cleared his throat. “He
asked me to find you. I watched him die beside me when he saved my life and if
I could trade places with him I would, believe me,” the man used his thumb to
wipe away his silent tears. “He talked about you and your son a lot. I’m sorry.” Shelly
couldn’t look at the sullen face of the man before her. She couldn’t pry her
eyes away from the penny ending its life on the cold floor. As he finished his
apology, the penny finished its goodbye and when she looked up with tears
brimming her eyes, the man was gone. All that was evidence of him having been
there was the bag on the floor, labeled with her husband’s name. Trembling, she
leaned down to pick up the penny but, as she looked up, she noticed something
taped under the other side of the table. Her fingers gently peeled it off and
she opened the clumsily folded letter, smeared with grime. A
creased photograph of her and her husband holding their newborn baby boy fell
out. She held a hand over her mouth with the photo clutched tightly in her
other shaking hand. Her muffled cries were became more vocally pronounced when
she turned the photo over. Scrawled on the back in her husband’s panicked
handwriting were ten little words: Every
second was another thought of you. I love you. © 2014 BrynnaW.Author's Note
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Added on April 23, 2012Last Updated on November 2, 2014 AuthorBrynnaW.My New Home, ORAboutMy name is Brynna Wynne Wiley. Aka: BrynnaW. I'm supposed to tell all about myself right here but... I've done that before. Now, it's just about the writing. more..Writing
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