Wide is the Path

Rewrite.

Wide Is the Path

Danny couldn’t face the wrinkled man before him, whose unsteady breath cut through the sounds of settling from the building’s bones. He knew he should never have come here.

“Sit.”

Danny swallowed, sitting upon the torn red vinyl stool.

“So, what do you want?”

Danny couldn’t find his voice.

“Look, kid, it’s not a difficult question. You can have anything. The ones your age tend to go with being a rock god of some sort. Money, fame, and if you’re so inclined, drugs and pussy till you’re sick of it. That interest you?”

Danny shook his head, glancing once at the sunken black eyes that roved his features. His stomach lurched.

“How about respect? It’s typically the older fellows that choose this route, but I can see that you’re mature.”

Danny swallowed and shook his head again.

“Then what is it, kid?”

 “There’s this girl…”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you as a romantic. You want love…”

“Not exactly,” Danny interrupted.

“Then what the hell is it?”

Danny looked to the window and remembered the day they’d met. He remembered how beautiful she was, and how sad. “The girl. I want her to have what she wants.”

“…This is for her?” The man’s shock pulled at papery folds of his skin.

Danny’s thoughts wandered again to that day. They were ten and she had just moved in next door. Each night he’d laid in bed, listening to her screams through the wall. “Yeah,” he replied.

“Guess the customer’s always right.” The man flashed a perverse, knowing grin and pulled a tiny scroll from his coat pocket. It shone gold in the half-light. “All that’s left to do is sign.”

Danny could not allow himself to regret the act he was to commit. He would rather reconcile with the loss of himself than her unhappiness.

The man rolled through shining paper, revealing countless names before a blank space emerged. “Just your signature.”

Danny closed his eyes and pressed his finger to the scroll. When his eyes opened it was finished.

“It’s been a pleasure, kid.” The old man reached out for Danny’s hand, touching its back with a single fingertip. It sent him spiraling in a second’s agony before he pulled away and left Danny examining the curious burn where the old man’s finger had been.

“Till next time, Danny.”

Danny woke to the ringing phone. He sat up, his neck sore from his awkward sleep on the couch. “Hello?”

“Danny, I’m going to Princeton. I can finally get away from here!”

Danny swallowed, confused. “I thought they turned you down?”

“I was wait-listed, but not anymore.”

He tried his best to sound enthusiastic. “Oh. Well…congratulations.”

“Anyway I can’t talk, I’ve got to call Scott.”

“I thought you broke up?”

“Only because we couldn’t go to school together, but now...Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”

Releasing his breath he hung up the phone, and noticed a curious mocking scar on the back of his right hand.