Last Chance Cafe

The bullet hit me in the gut. It hit like a punch. I was still on my feet, so I turned and fled. The drug dealer I was trying to rob emptied his pistol magazine at me as I ran. One round hit me in the back. I staggered, but kept going.

I'd seen him shoot that gun dozens of times –sideways gangsta style– and in all cases he never hit a thing. And he just now hit me twice!

Figures.

He didn’t chase, probably because I first knifed him in the leg. That’s what prompted him to pull the gun.

I knew I was in trouble. Pain seared my torso and my lungs burned. I was shaking, and blood loss made me weak. I couldn’t go to a hospital – there would be questions – so I ducked into an old empty house on the outskirts of the neighborhood. I needed time to catch my breath. Or die.

I lay there for a while, getting weaker. As the room began spinning, and my breath came in shallow gasps, the Devil appeared.

“Well, Chief,” he said to me as I lay curled on the floor, bleeding out, “you’ve got yourself in quite a pickle.”

I opened my eyes and saw he was dressed in red, head to toe. Except for his tie, which was black. He looked like a Hollywood reject from a dead-teenager slash movie, and was accompanied by the disturbing smell of rotting offal.

“Here’s the deal, Kid. I’ve been admiring your work for years. It’s been quite entertaining. Your amazing record of failures and screw-ups is breathtaking. Even better, the extent to which you never learn from them has defied the odds.

“But, alas!” he placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in mock tribute, “All good things must end.”

I blinked, uncomprehending.

“You’re dying, Dipshit! And I’m here to escort you through The Sift, a timeless slice between Heaven and Hell. A place of last chances and, I’m sure in your case, re-lived failures. A place where, when you fail one last time – and fail you will – I get what I want from you.”

“W-what do you want?” I asked listlessly, my lungs wheezing and filling with fluid. Beyond pain. At Death’s Door.

He smiled. His teeth were filed to points, and one glinted gold.

“Oh, I think you know what I want, Sport.”

I wasn’t surprised. It was a long, disappointing road that led me to this place. My list of uninterrupted failures went back to That Day.

“Ah! That Day!” said the Devil, reading my thoughts. “Funny you should think of That Fateful Day. The day that launched you upon a life of bad decisions and cock-ups. Of course I arranged that little get-together. Some of my best work! I always say, ‘Trauma is an investment in the future!’. Truer words, et cetera. It’s been paying me dividends for years.”

I tried to not think of it as he spoke, but like everything else I tried in life, I failed.

It was twelve years ago. I remembered the nuns. Three of them. Two were fat and jiggled when they laughed. The other, Sister Juniper, was skinny and black and always smiling. I remember how nice they were to us, and for some reason they smelled like roses. They were taking me and my little sister to a foster home because our parents were in Heaven. We stopped at the cafe for ice cream. We were almost done when The Bad Man entered.

“The Bad Man!” interrupted the Devil. “I’ll say! But give me some credit. It took years of hard work on my part to turn him into a monster. Lots of betrayals, beatings, and brutal disappointments. Then I had to arrange his escape from the mental institution. Stuff like that ain’t simple party tricks. Though I admit finding the shotgun was a lucky break.

“But please, continue.”

The Bad Man’s face was all I saw at first. It was blank, like a doll’s face. I sensed danger.

Then I saw the shotgun.

At the first shot, I instinctively fell to the floor in terror, closed my eyes, covered my ears and wished it to end. When the booms finally stopped, I opened my eyes and saw his legs walk out of the cafe. Eventually I rose up and stood at the now bloody table. I was shaking. In shock. I didn’t know what to do. Everyone was dead, including the nuns. Blood was splattered all over the walls, tables, chairs and floor. The air was filled with acrid gunpowder smoke.

I saw small legs sticking out beyond the table. They didn’t move. Pretty bows were tied to the shoes, but the stockings were stained an awful red.

The Bad Man killed my sister.

And I did nothing to protect her.

It was the defining moment of my life. My first and biggest failure. It was followed by months of therapy that went nowhere. There was no talking me out of knowing what I failed to do. From there life went downhill. Juvenile hall. Delinquency. Drugs. Petty crime. So many years later, hopelessly lying on the floor of an abandoned house, the pain and guilt were still fresh. Tears welled in my eyes.

Madeline was her name. She was six. She had black hair, blue eyes and every reason to still be alive.

The Devil laughed.

“Well, Tiger. Memories are nice, but The Sift is where you re-live it for real. One last time, for shits and giggles.”

He snapped his fingers.

Suddenly, the room changed. No longer lying in an abandoned house, bleeding to death, I was back in that old cafe, sitting with the nuns and my little sister. The sun was shining through the window, and the sound of dishes and conversations echoed. I stared at Madeline. She laughed with bright simplicity, ice cream spread around her mouth like crazy lipstick. A picture of blue-eyed innocence.

I saw the door open. The Bad Man!

Surprisingly, I didn’t hide.

Boom!

I watched as a man sitting by the door crumpled into his soup.

Boom! The waitress fell to the floor.

Boom! Boom!

HIDE! The thought rang in my head. I nearly did. But something changed. Perhaps it was the realization that This Was My Last Chance. I don’t know. I’m not smart enough to figure it out. All I know for sure is I did something no one unexpected, least of all, me.

I grabbed Madeline. Her eyes were big with terror. I shoved her under the table.

Boom! Boom!

“Stay quiet!” I hissed.

I looked up. The Bad Man swung the gun at me. Everyone else was dead.

Boom!

———

I rise from the floor. The pain is gone. I feel light and strong, warm and… alive!

“Shit!” I hear the Devil say. And just like that, he’s gone, washed away like a bad memory. The awful smell disappears and is replaced by… it takes me a moment to recognize the smell of fresh roses.

At that moment I have another vision. Madeline. All grown up. Sitting at a table in a cafe very much like this one, only clean and new. She is sitting with three happy children and a handsome, loving husband. They are bathed in a golden aura of love and safety.

She looks at me and smiles. She can’t see me, but somehow I know she’s thinking of me. Thanking me.

I smile back.

Out of the cafe I stride. The sun is shining a brilliant warming glow. I see a sign above the building. It says “Last Chance Cafe”. Behind me I hear a rusty car door creak open. I turn and behold an old Ford Galaxie, its engine rumbling patiently.

Inside are three grinning nuns.

“Hello, Sisters!” I say. “Where are we headed?”

Sister Juniper, her black face beaming with light, laughs, “Honey, we’re on our way to Paradise. Hop on in!”

That’s just what I do. It is the second best decision I ever make.

-

© 2024 Steve Merryman