An Unknown Cost

By: Krystalyn

They said that if you put in a Susan B Anthony instead of a quarter, it granted one wish.  I'd never tested it out personally, but I'd heard plenty of stories handed down by my dentist and my hairdresser and anyone else who deemed me a captive audience. 

I'd never tried it. I'd never wanted to until the one day I did.

The ground had been touched by snow, not enough to cancel school, but enough to prove that it was darn cold out. My eyes watered and my bones shivered as I walked home. I just wanted to get home, so I wasn't paying attention to the "Walk/Don't Walk" sign. I took a step off the sidewalk and flung myself into the intersection. 

The sound of screeching tires froze my blood in a way that the cold never could. The bright red letters of the "Don't Walk" sign came sharply into focus. And that's all I saw.

The next thing I remember is staring into the driver's side of the wrecked car. The bloody man lay back against the head rest. The air bag rested in a pool across his body. The part covering his stomach moved, barely.

"He's breathing! He's still breathing!" yelled a voice shockingly close to my ear. "Call 911!"

I jammed my hand into my pocket to pull out my phone, but I couldn't figure out how it worked. "I can't. I can't..."

The owner of the voice yanked the phone out of my hand. Her words echoed distantly as she issued directions to the operator. 

I kept my gaze locked on the man. Each tiny movement of the air bag was one more breath. If I kept watching, he would keep breathing. I had to believe that I could fix him.

I vaguely registered sirens and flashing lights. Eventually, someone pulled me away. They asked me if I was fine.

"No, I'm not." I wasn't hurt, but I wasn't fine.

They guided me into an ambulance.

***

Hours at the hospital. Waiting room. Talks of surgery. Whispering adults. Sobbing children.

And thoughts. Well, just one actually.

I did this.

At first, I didn't think about the phone booth. Those stories I'd heard while getting my teeth drilled or my hair chopped had taught me that certain types of knowledge came for a price far greater than the Susan B Anthony.

Skinny Pete asked for the winner of the Super Bowl so he could bet a ton of money on it and live like a king. He sure did win, but the next day, lost his arm in a freak lawn mower accident.

Lily King asked how to get the hottest guy in our county. She got him, but then he stole every cent she'd earned as a Bob Evans waitress and skipped town.

Stupid people, I'd always thought. They threw their lives away for wishes.

But sitting in that hospital room, I suddenly understood the allure of wishes. My thoughts drifted to that shiny red phone booth and the promise that it offered. I wasn't asking for love or money. I was asking for the most essential thing a human body needs - life. My cost would be steep.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I left the hospital and walked down to the all night laundromat. They had a change machine that gave out dollar coins. I put a five in, the only cash I had. Out came four Sacajaweas and one Susan B Anthony. I left the Sacajaweas on a counter for someone else to use and headed for the phone booth.

It was a long walk to the outskirts of town. I shivered the whole way even though I didn't feel the cold. The stretch of road was deserted. The booth looked lonely, like it needed me to come inside. I stared at the door. The red color reminded me too much of the man's blood and how it covered his body. When the color had burned into my eyes like a permanent after flash, I stepped inside. 

I ran my thumb over Susan's face, felt the soft bumps. One dollar. And an unknown cost.

I picked up the receiver and shoved the coin into the slot. A soft crackle filled my ear for an eternity before an ancient voice finally asked, "What is your wish?"

***

"He made it," the doctor said.

Cheering wife. Jumping children. And me, sitting in the corner until everyone had gone to see then man that was the center of their lives. 

I sat alone, my hand propping up my head until I heard feet shuffling through the doorway. An ancient voice spoke softly. "It's time."

***
Photo By: wintersixfour