Saturday, March 15, 2003

...I lost the coin toss.

The small, dingy quarter made of copper-nickel, flipped up in the air - careless and unaware of what it's outcome could mean to me:

joy or heartbreak.

It had come to this, two bickering exboyfriends trying to decide the fate and ownership of their mutally much loved dog. I shouldn't have risked it, I should have taken her and let it go to court, I should of hit him - broken every bone in his arrogant, pompous, spoiled brat little body. But I wanted to be fair, he wouldn't give her up. So as the words heated and the hurts laid open in both our eyes. I flipped a coin.

Have you ever really looked at a quarter ?

The "Heads" side, the silhouette of George Washington, with seven capitalized words above his head: " L I B E R T Y". Would we find freedom after this ? Would I have my liberty ? This coin was minted in 1985. What was important to me in 1985? I was about to start my sophomore year of high school - so probably boys, punk music, getting stoned and getting a drivers license. Did I ever think that one day I would be standing in the middle of my living room on an overcast March day flipping a coin to decide the fate of the dog I had raised from a puppy with my ex. The "Tails" side features the bold eagle, the name of our country and the words that I'm sorry I just can't believe in: IN GOD WE TRUST. I'm gonna get slammed for saying that - sorry, we all feel differently about things and I don't trust what I don't believe in.

He chose "Heads", my mind raced a little trying to remember the odd's of "Tails" - was it ever really a 50/50 chance for me ? I looked down at her - all excited to see me, her brown eyes embracing me, tail wagging feverishly. I leaned into her and kissed the tip of her cold, wet black nose. She kissed me back quickly, loving her Daddy. Who would wake me in the morning at 7am? Who would cuddle close, sharing my pillows in the dark? How would I ever go to the dog park with any dog but this ?

The coin hit the ground - and my heart hit the floor. I had lost. I had lost Baby forever. As he shook my hand I mumbled how I would send him all the paperwork for the pet insurance and dog license, I stared numbly into his eyes - and below the surface, behind my eyes - in the backroom of my mind - I was screaming. I HATE YOU, YOU FUCKING BASTARD. I didn't say goodbye to her, he whisked her out the door. At the door we both mumbled how we hadn't wanted it to come to this I assured him he would give her a wonderful home. The voice from the backroom kept screaming, incessantly bellowing: I FUCKING HATE YOU. I softly asked him to "just go away and let me move on with my life" and shut the heavy, black metal security door. I walked back inside and sat in front of the tv and cried.