Last Choice

Note: Contains some themes of death

Augustus wasn’t entirely sure why life brought him to the meal in front of him, yet it led him there just the same.

You could say it was a series of unfortunate events, maybe you could say he was always in the wrong place at the wrong time. But that wasn’t reality.

In truth, what brought him there was a series of poor choices made by a poor boy. As he grew, so did the severity of said poor choices.

The sting of the life he had led was just as cold as the metal chair against his back; just as raw as where the cuffs chafed his wrists, the long chain attached to the floor.

Of all the decisions, all the choices, he had ever made, the one in front of him had been the most difficult yet.

There was a weight to it, being that it was to be his last.

Augustus stared down at the plate, trying to savor, memorize every small detail, hoping to delay the inevitable as long as he could.

He could feel death had put a hand on his shoulder, as if letting him know it would be soon, and a meal could only delay so much. He wasn’t afraid to die, he was afraid of what came next.

He took a deep breath but there was a hollowness in his chest he couldn’t fill. His hands were clammy, his forehead slick with sweat; Alice once told him it was anxiety. He could feel the sting in his eyes of tears threatening to fall, but he blinked them away. He wanted to be strong for this moment.

Didn’t want to be a coward.

He looked at the meal on the ivory white plate, studying the mashed potatoes with great interest. His gaze wandered across the hilly lumps, swam in the small pools of butter before turning towards the precut marinated steak that glistened under the bright white lights. It was humiliating that they wouldn’t allow him the honor to cut his own steak one last time.

To the right of his plate was a silver fork, at least they gave him that decency. Above the fork were his drinks. A glass of ordinary water, and next to that a glass of red wine, though he never cared for it. Above the plate was a stick of gum.

He took the wine in his right hand and swirled the purplish, red liquid around, creating a small whirlpool in the glass before taking a sip. The wine danced in the glass just as his memories danced in his mind.

He could remember vividly the smell of it on his mother’s breath, could see as plain as day the lipstick stain left behind once she’d finished her drink.

He was young when his Papa died, maybe five or six years old. His Mama wasn’t the same after. It was like she forgot Augustus lost his father as much as she lost her husband; sorrow stronger than her love for him. He remembered his Mama packing them up and moving them to the only place she could somewhat afford, a rundown neighborhood across town.

Gone were the days when the afternoons were full of the sound of laughter, children playing in the street after school, and long gone was Augustus’s own educational prospects. Now they were lucky if they didn’t hear a gunshot echo through the run down neighborhood mid afternoon.

His Mama got a job at a diner off the highway and had to catch the bus to and from work. She’d be gone from dawn till dusk while Augustus did what he could to keep himself occupied.

She no longer made meals, only bringing home table scraps to get them by.

When she wasn’t working, Augustus often found her on the couch with a glass of red wine in her right hand, and a remote in her left, clicking through channels.

She forgot about him more often than not, leaving Augustus to fend for himself.

He was about eight years old when he committed his first crime.

He had become friends with one of the neighborhood kids, Shawn Philips, who was constantly up to no good.

He and Shawn went to the gas station down the street around noon one day in early June. It was a rundown old building with a half blind old man behind the counter. Augustus could swear his white beard went beyond his waist and that his eyes were almost pure white.

The two boys walked around the store when Augustus watched Shawn pocket a chocolate bar. Shawn winked at him, and whispered, “your turn.”

Up to that point, Augustus never considered the notion of stealing but, not wanting to let his only friend down, nodded as his eyes landed the gum.

Adrenaline coursed in his veins for the first time that day as he grabbed a pack of cinnamon gum, shoving it into his pocket. They both walked out of the store as casually as they could. Once the door closed behind them, they ran back down the street towards the safety of their homes.

Augustus ran into his house after saying goodbye to Shawn and bolted up the stairs to his room. His Mama, like usual, was at work.

He pushed his rickety bed aside and pried up the loose floor board he had discovered only a few weeks prior, and hid the pack of gum.

As any eight year old would, he sat nervously on his bed waiting for the police to come knocking down the door. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t seen one patrol car the entire time he and his Mama lived in that neighborhood, he was sure they would come.

His Mama came home, shoving a doggie bag of table scraps in his hands as usual, before staggering into the living room.

After a few days, Augustus started to relax. He stole something and had gotten away with it. He reflected on the adrenaline rush, even at eight years old he knew that feeling was different. Powerful. He felt unstoppable, like he could get away with anything. It’s not like it hurt anyone for the store to be missing a pack of gum.

After his Mama left the house one day, Augustus slid his bed aside and retrieved the gum from under the floor board, pocketing the pack.

He made his way to the gas station, putting a piece of gum in his mouth as he walked through the door.

“Hello,” he said to the older gentleman. “Where do you carry gum? I’m just about out.”

The man, blindly, pointed in the direction where Augustus took the first pack. “In that direction young man. It seems by the smell you prefer cinnamon. You’ll find some over there.”

“Thank you, sir.” He replied, making his way over.

When the man turned, Augustus shoved two more packs in his pocket before heading towards the door. Before he pushed on the handle, he turned, facing the older man.

“You didn’t have the brand I like. I’ll try again another time,” he said.

The older man smiled. “I’m sorry we didn’t have what you were looking for. Have a nice day.”

Augustus smiled to himself, thinking he could get used to this feeling.

He drank the wine bitterly. Maybe if his mother had paid attention to him, had noticed his boredom, the kind of kids he was hanging around, maybe he wouldn’t be here today.

But she didn’t care. Looking back, he saw how quickly life deteriorated her. How frail she became. By the time Augustus was fifteen, she joined his father in the afterlife.

All she cared about was her wine. Which is why he chose it. To remind him that it wasn’t all his fault, though the choices were certainly his. His mother was the one who brought him there, the one who stopped his schooling, the one who gave up the world and left him to fall into a life of crime.

He picked up the fork and took a scoop of the mashed potatoes.

Such a simple meal, mashed potatoes and steak. A tough reminder of the life he could have had, and the life he had turned aside. Choices, he decided, could be ones greatest triumph, or ones greatest tragedy.

His were a symphony of tragedies and self sabotage.

He took a bite, the taste regretful in contrast to the bitterness of the wine.

He was twenty five. Had been living off the grid since his mother died. His crimes as of late had been considerably more damning than swiping a pack of gum.

He became quite proficient at robbing unsuspecting civilians. Holding a gun to someone, demanding them to hand over their money was thrilling in a sick way.

The power, their fear. It was intoxicating.

His only friend was Alice Mason, another poor kid who found herself surviving on the streets like Augustus. Her crimes were not as severe as his; mostly she stole food and clothes to keep herself going.

It was easier to be what people expected of you rather than rise above the foundations of your childhood years. Augustus found he was comfortable living the way he did; it was all he knew. Alice was different.

More often than not, she would dream of leaving that life behind, of bettering herself by getting a job and going to school. They often talked of this life she dreamed about late at night while watching stars shoot across the sky. She spoke with hope, longing. He spoke with uncertainty, though he admired her dream and supported her fully.

She made him happy, made him feel whole. Life was exciting with Alice in it.

Then it happened. She finally found a job that would take her and she started working, and he saw her less and less. They made a point to spend a day together every other week, but life got busy and months flew by.

It was as clear in his memory as if he were there now. It was a Tuesday evening in August around five o’clock. Alice had invited him to dinner. He did his best to dress well, even scrubbing the dirt from his nails. When he arrived, he was glad he put so much effort in his appearance.

It was a quaint brick building, the path leading to the entrance of the restaurant was a blue canopied walkway.

Inside, the atmosphere was calm, the lighting low and warm, almost like the soft glow of a fire, dancing against the dark night sky.

The host led them to a cherrywood booth with dark maroon faux leather cushions that were surprising comfortable. They sat across from each other, enveloped in a slightly awkward silence; it had been awhile since they last saw each other. Silently, they studied their menus.

“I got a raise,” Alice said, breaking the still air between them.

The happiness in her expression warmed Augustus’s heart, making him think of the nights they spent watching the stars.

“That’s amazing!” He said. “Though I’m not surprised you impressed them enough to give one to you.”

“That’s not the only thing,” she started to speak when the waiter came over.

“Good evening, my name is Brian. I will be your server tonight,” he said, smiling as he nodded his acknowledgment to both of them. “Can I get you started with something to drink? Do we need some more time with the menus?”

“I believe we know what we want,” Augustus said. “I’ll have the marinated steak with buttered mashed potatoes as my side with an old fashioned beer. Alice?” He said, turning towards her.

Brian looked expectantly at her, his pencil at the ready as she quickly scanned the menu once more.

“I shall have the lasagna, no side with a glass of water,” she said, smiling as she held her menu out towards the waiter.

“Excellent choices, my friends. I’ll put that in right away for you and come back with your drinks.”

Brian took the menus and walked away.

“Excuse me a moment, Gus,” Alice said as she stood, stepping away from the booth. “I need to go and powder my nose.”

He acknowledged with a gesture and watched her walk towards the bathrooms, taking in the way her hips swayed, the blue fabric of her sundress following the motion; her curly brown hair, styled into a ponytail, bounced with each step.

He loved her bright smile, her lively blue eyes, the way she crossed her arms when she was mad and the way she cried when she was sad. To put it simply, he loved her.

He loved that she was able to follow her dream, even if it meant he was left behind. He hadn’t told her yet, but he wanted to find a way to follow her off the unforgiving streets. Things changed once she became apart of society, but his feelings for her never swayed. His love and desire for her, he found, outweighed the high he got from his criminal actions and he was no longer comfortable living that way.

She returned to the table just as Brian arrived with their drinks, giving a slight bow before departing once more.

“I have some other news, Gus.” She bit her lip, speaking softly in her nervous way.

Augustus smiled, “Well, I can’t wait to hear it!”

She sat straighter. “Well, its actually two things. The second is why I wanted to meet tonight. It’s a surprise for you, and I’m saving it for last so we can make plans.”

He nodded, heart full. “Go on then. Out with it.”

For a moment, life was perfect. He was with the woman he loved. He was happy, imagining how life would turn out in the next few years with Alice.

“I met someone.” She said.

And the moment became just that. A moment of imagination, a life he would never have. His heart seemed to come at a sudden stop, crashing against the wall, exploding into a shattered version of itself.

“His name is Rick. He’s super sweet and is fine with my past. You’d like him.” She smiled as she spoke. “He’s actually the one who helped me get the job in the first place.”

Augustus took a deep breath, reeling in his emotions.

“I’m happy for you, Alice,” he spoke as calmly as he could, trying to force his words to be brighter for her benefit with little success.

Alice didn’t notice the change in his tone, she was too happy.

“The second thing?” He asked, encouraging the conversation to switch directions.

“I have a job lined up for you! You’d work with me and occasionally Rick. He’s in another department. It’s a great opportunity to give you a fresh start! Please say yes!”

Brian arrived with their food in that moment, before Augustus could give any response. He noticed the tension in the air, silently placed their meals down, and walked away.

It took everything in Augustus to hold still. He didn’t want to see her with someone else while he worked right alongside her. Was she mad, thinking he’d be okay with that? Did she really not see how he loved her?

“Oh, this looks delicious!” She said, already cutting the lasagna. “So, what do you think?”

He said nothing. Just sat there, staring at his plate, anger echoing, beating in place of his heart. He was used to getting what he wanted.

“Augustus?” Alice said, finally noticing something was off.

He met her gaze.

“No.”

As Augustus finished his steak, he though about how that night ended. They fought and he left her sitting at the booth. The hurt he planted in her haunted him, tormenting him in dreams. He never ate his meal that evening.

But now he did, mourning the choice he made, the friendship he lost, wishing he could go back and do something, say something different. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know when he started crying, but it came in quiet sobs.

It was a month after the dinner that he sealed his fate. So, he did the only thing he could do over the last three years while behind bars. Contemplate his sad excuse of a life. The table in front of him reflected the choices that ultimately brought him here, whether by his own design, or by someone else.

His mother, leaving him to fend for himself, lost in her own grief, drowning slowly in the glass in her hand. His friend, who wanted the best for him and he threw her heart right back in her face.

A robbery gone wrong…a life lost at his hand. It didn’t matter it was an accident, the boy was the son of the police chief who had powerful friends. The verdict was swift. The wait was long.

He wiped the tears from his cheeks with the palm of his hand. He wouldn’t get another chance to change, to make amends.

He picked up the stick of gum and slowly, methodically peeled away the tin foil.

His last act, to reflect his first. To end it how it all began.

He put the gum in his mouth, the hot cinnamon flavor bursting on his tongue, and for a second, he was that eight year old boy again.

He chewed for a few moments, taking deep breaths. It was time to face it. There wasn’t anything else left to delay.

He looked up at the guard, sitting at a chair in the corner.

“I’m ready.”

THE END