A Chance to Make Things Right

The trees swayed over the dark lake, and a few nightingales chirped and sang into the night. Some people laughed far off behind him, riding home on scooters and e-bikes after a night out. Yet, this was still the quietest part of the city, and this metal bench was the only place he trusted to get any good sleep.

Tonight would be another freezing-cold one. Leon didn’t have any blankets. He’d find some soon, as the nights kept getting colder. But he didn’t want to take handouts from anyone. There was always some motive. Everyone wanted something. Even the charities and shelters wanted something from you, and the people there always took whatever you had at night. This bench was the safest place for him to get some shut-eye. 

Leon coughed, pulling his gray wool coat tight over his chest, and closed his eyes. 

“Hello, mind if I sit here and have a smoke?” 

Leon's eyes fluttered open. A young man appeared, perched on the green metal bench. He grinned at Leon like a curious crow. 

“Yeah, sure,” Leon said.

Leon could usually tell within about five seconds what a man wanted from him. This young man, likely in his early twenties, presented himself with an awkward confidence that reminded Leon of himself in his youth. 

This man was probably drunk and just wanted company. He was clearly not a threat, but surely someone who’d get on his nerves in a few minutes. And he wanted something, that’s for sure. 

“If you’re looking for a light, I don’t have one,” Leon muttered. 

“It’s okay, I’ve got my own.” 

The young man cupped his hands. Between his fingers, the cigarette glowed, and he began blowing smoke against the cold night wind.

Leon’s eyes widened as he took a double take at the young man’s hands. He didn’t see a lighter at all. It was like the man had lit the cigarette with fire from his own hands. No way. He must have been seeing things.

The two sat in silence on the bench, as a mist began to settle over the lake in front of them. The young man puffed away at his cigarette, taking no note of the growing fog. 

“Can I ask you something?” the man suddenly spoke. “Would you go back and do it all again, if you could?” 

“What do you mean?” Leon asked. 

“I’m sorry. I hardly introduced myself. Rowan.” he put out his hand.

“Leon.” He shook Rowan’s cold, pale hand.

“What I’m asking is, if you could do your life over again, start fresh, would you?”

Rowan moved from his perch down next to Leon, still smiling, almost giddy like a child. 

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Leon chuckled a little. What an odd thing to ask. 

“Well, why don’t you tell me how you got here? How come you sleep on the streets?” Rowan took another puff of his cigarette. 

“Come on, you can tell me. I’m nobody.” Rowan’s freckled face came into view under the street lamps, revealing a slight yet handsome young man. Untouched by the world.

Leon grumbled and shuffled his feet. It was too embarrassing and frustrating. Who wanted to listen to an old man’s miserable tale? He’d lost everything. But what would it hurt to talk to this drunken young man in a worn-out white blouse and loose tie? He would likely never see this Rowan character again. And he hadn’t really shared his story with anyone. 

“Okay. I’ll tell ya, kid. I made a big mistake a long time ago.” Leon sat back on the bench. 

“I used to have a wife. Two kids. I was actually quite a rich investor living in a mansion, if you could believe it.” Leon said. Thirty-two years ago. Leon looked down at his body, his sagging skin and ribs beneath his ragged coat. He used to be fit and young, just like that man. 

“How did you lose all of that?” Rowan asked.

“A bad investment with a crook who claimed to be my friend. Howard Lawfield. He played the long game too. Told me he was starting a company and he just needed an under-the-table kind of loan to get things going. So I gave it to him, and he cheated me.” Leon admitted, “He was later arrested for a money laundering scheme, which he then pinned on me. Long story short, I fought my way out of it, but lost my house and my whole family in the process.”

“That’s rough.” Rowan shook his head and crossed his arms.

 “My kids won’t even talk to me now, because this guy painted me as the crook. Like I was part of it,” he huffed, and gripped his coat sleeves a little harder. The cool fog swirled over the bank now, completely covering the water’s edge in a layer of frosty white.

“Crazy how one decision can destroy your life forever,” Rowan remarked.

 “What can I say? Never trust another person with your money, kid.” Leon hung his head to the sidewalk and kicked a sticky candy wrapper toward the metal bin. 

“But also, how fortunate you are that you can trace all of your problems back to one choice. One decision.” 

Leon rubbed the dirty stubble on his chin and stared out at the furthest streetlamp he could see in the growing fog. He watched it flicker in the dark, then turn off completely. 

“I guess if I could go back, I’d fix it so I never gave that bastard my money. That little rat has been haunting me for life.” 

Leon imagined Howard’s face, holding the phone from behind the plexiglass, shaking like a mouse caught in the jaws of a cat. Telling Leon how sorry he was, crying and begging for his forgiveness. 

“Hmm,” the young man pondered. “What if you could go back to that day you gave Howard the money? What would you do?”

“I’d let him know how much of my life he destroyed with that money. I’d want him to understand, to feel the pain of what he’d done to me.” Leon flexed his fist. 

Leon knew if that prison plexiglass hadn’t been there, he would have punched that sucker in the teeth. He’d strangle him. That man should fear for his life if he ever got his hands on him again. 

“Well,” the young man said, “Hatefulness and vengefulness can only carry you so far. If you spent the rest of your life blaming Howard for everything that happened to you, who have you become? A victim of Howard’s choices?” 

“That’s the kind of deep philosophical bull crap I don’t have time for.” Leon spat, “If I could go back, I’d make him pay. I’d kill him.” 

Looking around, he realized the fog had settled over them to the point that the streetlight above him was obscured. All he could see now was Rowan’s figure cast in shadow, and the faint light of his cigarette.

“Look, sir, what you do is up to you. I'm only trying to help. If you want help, that is,” he said.

The bench was completely surrounded by fog now, and the street light right above them began flickering. “Sure I do,” Leon said, staring at his old, wrinkled hands. “I’d love to be out of this mess. I’d love to hug my wife and see my kids again, but that’s not how life works.” The fog had become so heavy that even the ground right beneath them was covered with it. He tried to make out the sidewalk, kicking his feet out, realizing the sidewalk below them was gone. They were no longer on the ground. They were floating. How long had they been floating for?

He watched Rowan put the cigarette butt out on the side of the bench. The young man suddenly lurched forward, grabbing Leon firmly by the shoulders. 

“What if it could work that way?” Rowan whispered in his ear. It sounded like his voice was coming from all around him, echoing into his mind.

“I don’t normally give chances like this to you people anymore, but I couldn’t help myself. All I need is your permission.” 

“Good, god! What are you?” Leon asked. He backed deep into the bench, hands gripping the metal edge as he stared into the dark figure. The man’s eyes had turned black and hollow. Finger-like talons dug into his wool coat.

“If you want to change things, just say yes,” he heard the voice say. 

Leon choked out a quiet and pitiful “Yes.”

Rowan smiled, as his voice lightened back up into a friendly young man’s.  

“Close your eyes then, Leon. It’ll be easier that way.” 

Leon yelped as Rowan’s talon fingers pulled him from the bench by his wool coat, and he slipped down into the damp and foggy darkness. 

“Remember, the choice is yours.” 

He heard Rowan’s voice echo into laughter as he fell and fell and fell.

****

Leon’s hands landed on the mahogany dining room table. All the lights were out, but he knew immediately where he was. His home, thirty-two years ago. He looked at his clothes. A white blouse, loose tie. He immediately felt something in his pants pockets and reached inside. In one pocket was a revolver, and in his other pocket, a key labeled safe. 

He heard a noise outside and crept slowly toward the front foyer, over the bear-skin rug. In the hallway he came across a familiar reflection. He put his hand over his mouth, gasping, as he raced to the hall mirror. Clean-shaven, and a young man again. He ran his fingers through his soft, full head of hair. He almost laughed.

A frantic rapping at the door brought his attention back. 

Keeping the latch on, Leon opened the door to a disheveled and sweaty Howard Lawfield. 

“Thank god, Leon. I thought you’d fallen asleep. I need it right now,” he said.

“What?” Leon asked, still orienting himself.

“The key, I need the key to the safe deposit box. We agreed, and now I need it.” Howard held his hand out.

“It’s late. Why don’t you come back tomorrow?” Leon asked. He couldn’t remember what he originally said, but it didn’t matter now. He wasn’t giving any of his money to that low-down rodent of a man. 

“Late? You were the one who said we ought to do it at 3 am.” Howard checked his watch. “If you wanted to do it earlier, I could have been here hours ago. But now we’re running out of time, so.”

“Look, I don’t want to give you the money anymore, okay?” Leon, started shutting the door.

“What do you mean, Leon? You can’t leave me hanging like that. If you back out now, they’re gonna be pissed.” Howard leaned an arm against the front door, keeping it slightly open.

“What do you mean? Who have you told?” Leon's anger bubbled inside of him.

“The guys we’re working with, Leon. Come on, do you think people like that ought to be messed with?” 

“Give me a second, I think I left the key on the table.” 

He shut the door, taking a breath. Leon pulled the revolver from his pocket, considering. 

All he would need to do was pull the trigger, but how could he? 

His kids were upstairs sleeping, and what would his wife think if he killed a man? But then again, he could claim self-defense. And then this whole money problem would be gone. No more homeless nights on the street. He could keep his job, keep his family, his investments.

Howard let out a nervous laugh.

 “Leon, come on. We agreed to this. You want to do this. You could score big, man.”

Howard banged at the door again.

“Come on, Leon. Please!” 

Leon held the revolver in his hand, playing out the many miserable nights in the rain, on the street. The day he lost his house, the court case where he lost his reputation, the night his wife left him and took the kids. Sleepless on the streets night after night. Year after year. 

“Hey. I promise you this is all gonna be easy. These guys know what they’re doing.” Howard said, muffled through the door. 

Rowan, whatever he was, had finally given him a chance to make it right. Give him his life back. No more paying for Howard’s choices. No more being a victim to this man. He didn't have to listen or be a pawn in whatever scheme he was playing anymore. Tonight, things were going to change.

Leon opened the door.