This story was originally published on 52stories.net
Marco stared at the spinning roulette wheel then shifted focus to his four, five hundred dollar chips that were stacked neatly on double-zero. He came to Las Vegas with the unorthodox objective of losing all of his money. Now he was down to the final two grand. Hitting double zero wouldn’t only allow him to leave with twice what he brought to the table, but it would, quite literally, save his life.
Forty-six hours earlier, Marco walked into the casino with a suitcase filled with $30,000, his entire life savings, and hit the roulette table with the stoic confidence of an established high roller. In the end, precisely as planned, he left the table with two thousand dollars in his pocket. Nearly two solid days of gambling left him emaciated. He denied the casino doctor’s plea for him to spend the night under observation at the local hospital. Instead, aided by a stocky man in a plaid green sport coat and reeking of cheap cologne, he made his way to his room. Once inside, he followed his plan to the letter. He filled a glass with water and placed it on the nightstand, washed his face and hands, brushed his teeth, set the air conditioner to maximum, and then created a cocoon using the pillows and blankets from both beds. There, swathed in slippery nylon, Marco sank into the deepest of sleeps.
The black-out curtains and the A/C did an adequate job of keeping the room dark and cool, but the early risers in the room next door and the continual slamming of spring-loaded doors echoing from the hallway were slowly unraveling his cocoon and drawing him out of oblivion. It was the clink, clink, clink, shunk, thump of the Coke machine on the other side of the wall which shredded the remaining fabric of his slumber.
Marco threw back the covers and glanced at the alarm clock which read 6:22. He walked over to the window and opened the curtains. There, three stories below, the pool was waiting. Within a few hours hundreds of people would be swarming about, but for the moment, the pool area looked exactly as it had the morning he met her – quiet and serene. He closed his eyes and rocked his forehead back and forth slowly on the glass. It felt cool, soothing, but Marco didn’t think he deserved such comfort, so he pulled back and stood up straight. At 48, Marco felt he had experienced so much loss, accomplished so little, and influenced so few that he was ready to discover whatever awaited him on the other side. He didn’t even know that he believed in a higher power, but he had come to Vegas to find one or die trying. He was ready to make that final passage, and if there was a Savior of some sort, Marco was making sure there would be a prime opportunity for a miracle. Besides, to Marco, this was hell, or close to it. Anything that lies beyond has got to be an improvement. He was tired of being burdened by life and tired of forty years of testing his faith, looking for signs, and agonizing over possibilities. How many times had he pleaded to the heavens to provide guidance and comfort? How many unanswered prayers were still in queue, floating in the ether – wasted? How could it be that he was born to lead such a miserable life, devoid of meaning, purpose, any semblance of inner peace?
His eyes fixed the far cabana. It was there, exactly ten years ago, that he met Aimee. They spent the weekend together before heading their separate ways with promises to keep in touch. Marco called her several times, but she didn’t respond. He tried convincing himself that she meant nothing, but it was no use. Aimee was only the second girl that he had kissed, and the first one who kissed him back. Those two days constituted the longest relationship he has ever had.
His reverie was broken by a man walking out of the cabana. He was wearing a green bathing suit and sported a tattered, wide-brimmed straw hat. He took off his hat, tossed it onto a lounge chair, then canonballed into the pool. He surfaced after several seconds, and started treading water in the deep end. Marco was perturbed. He planned on the pool being empty this time of the morning. He needed enough time to sink below the surface and take as much water into his lungs as possible then lie undisturbed for at least three minutes. Marco turned away from the window to the alarm clock. It was time to go. He glanced back toward the pool and the man and his hat were gone. A trail of footsteps led toward the back gate. Marco pulled on his pants, slipped into his shoes and walked out of the room.
Once in the casino, Marco walked directly to the same roulette table. He pulled the chips out of his pocket and stacked them on double zero. The dealer called to the pit boss who was standing at the far table. He turned and Marco recognized him as the stocky man in the plaid coat who helped him to his room just a few hours ago. The pit boss nodded to the dealer then turned away. The wheel spun and Marco watched. If he won, he would keep the promise he made to himself to turn his life around; to somehow find purpose, hope, and serenity. If he lost, he would take this as the final confirmation of a wasted life. The wheel slowed and the ball dropped. Marco smiled for the first time in weeks. The test was finally over.
Forty-six hours earlier, Marco walked into the casino with a suitcase filled with $30,000, his entire life savings, and hit the roulette table with the stoic confidence of an established high roller. In the end, precisely as planned, he left the table with two thousand dollars in his pocket. Nearly two solid days of gambling left him emaciated. He denied the casino doctor’s plea for him to spend the night under observation at the local hospital. Instead, aided by a stocky man in a plaid green sport coat and reeking of cheap cologne, he made his way to his room. Once inside, he followed his plan to the letter. He filled a glass with water and placed it on the nightstand, washed his face and hands, brushed his teeth, set the air conditioner to maximum, and then created a cocoon using the pillows and blankets from both beds. There, swathed in slippery nylon, Marco sank into the deepest of sleeps.
The black-out curtains and the A/C did an adequate job of keeping the room dark and cool, but the early risers in the room next door and the continual slamming of spring-loaded doors echoing from the hallway were slowly unraveling his cocoon and drawing him out of oblivion. It was the clink, clink, clink, shunk, thump of the Coke machine on the other side of the wall which shredded the remaining fabric of his slumber.
Marco threw back the covers and glanced at the alarm clock which read 6:22. He walked over to the window and opened the curtains. There, three stories below, the pool was waiting. Within a few hours hundreds of people would be swarming about, but for the moment, the pool area looked exactly as it had the morning he met her – quiet and serene. He closed his eyes and rocked his forehead back and forth slowly on the glass. It felt cool, soothing, but Marco didn’t think he deserved such comfort, so he pulled back and stood up straight. At 48, Marco felt he had experienced so much loss, accomplished so little, and influenced so few that he was ready to discover whatever awaited him on the other side. He didn’t even know that he believed in a higher power, but he had come to Vegas to find one or die trying. He was ready to make that final passage, and if there was a Savior of some sort, Marco was making sure there would be a prime opportunity for a miracle. Besides, to Marco, this was hell, or close to it. Anything that lies beyond has got to be an improvement. He was tired of being burdened by life and tired of forty years of testing his faith, looking for signs, and agonizing over possibilities. How many times had he pleaded to the heavens to provide guidance and comfort? How many unanswered prayers were still in queue, floating in the ether – wasted? How could it be that he was born to lead such a miserable life, devoid of meaning, purpose, any semblance of inner peace?
His eyes fixed the far cabana. It was there, exactly ten years ago, that he met Aimee. They spent the weekend together before heading their separate ways with promises to keep in touch. Marco called her several times, but she didn’t respond. He tried convincing himself that she meant nothing, but it was no use. Aimee was only the second girl that he had kissed, and the first one who kissed him back. Those two days constituted the longest relationship he has ever had.
His reverie was broken by a man walking out of the cabana. He was wearing a green bathing suit and sported a tattered, wide-brimmed straw hat. He took off his hat, tossed it onto a lounge chair, then canonballed into the pool. He surfaced after several seconds, and started treading water in the deep end. Marco was perturbed. He planned on the pool being empty this time of the morning. He needed enough time to sink below the surface and take as much water into his lungs as possible then lie undisturbed for at least three minutes. Marco turned away from the window to the alarm clock. It was time to go. He glanced back toward the pool and the man and his hat were gone. A trail of footsteps led toward the back gate. Marco pulled on his pants, slipped into his shoes and walked out of the room.
Once in the casino, Marco walked directly to the same roulette table. He pulled the chips out of his pocket and stacked them on double zero. The dealer called to the pit boss who was standing at the far table. He turned and Marco recognized him as the stocky man in the plaid coat who helped him to his room just a few hours ago. The pit boss nodded to the dealer then turned away. The wheel spun and Marco watched. If he won, he would keep the promise he made to himself to turn his life around; to somehow find purpose, hope, and serenity. If he lost, he would take this as the final confirmation of a wasted life. The wheel slowed and the ball dropped. Marco smiled for the first time in weeks. The test was finally over.
1 comment:
Arghhh!!! What happens? Did he win or lose, live or die???
Personally I think he ran off with the pit boss in the green plaid coat. Could happen.
Great story Tom!!!
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