The River 29

I didn't feel like holding this 750-word story until next year. No sex, no romance, just a strange little story.

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Last week an invitation to the twenty-fifth anniversary party for a friend I'd known since childhood arrived in the mail. It was something I couldn't refuse even though it would involve making a very long drive through an area deep in the mountains of Maine. Over the years we've kept in touch by phone and text but this would be the first time I've been to his house.

I calculated the trip would take about eight hours so I left early even though the party wasn't scheduled to begin until 5 p.m. Not being familiar with the area, the GPS on my phone became my best friend. Unfortunately, due to the mountains there were times when the signal was lost and I found myself having to guess which roads to take. At those times I got angry at myself for not printing out the full directions before leaving home. But even with some bad choices, I was optimistic I'd arrive in time.

That was until I reached a bridge with a big sign that read, "WARNING: UNSAFE TO CROSS." Dejected, I slumped over the steering wheel and wondered if things could get any worse. With no other bridges in sight, I turned my car around and backtracked down the mountain. It was then I spotted a barge by the water and hoped I could make a deal with the owner.

As I got closer, I could see an old man scrubbing down the deck of the barge. Pulling to a stop on a gravel path nearby I walked over to it.

"Hey old man, you the owner?"

"Yeah."

"Any chance I can get a lift to the other side of this river?"

"Depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on whether you can meet my price."

"How much is it, fifty dollars, a hundred, more?"

"Just a dollar."

Wondering why the old man made such a fuss about a dollar, I reached into my wallet and held out a bill.

"That money ain't no good."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't trust paper money. Haven't in a long time. Always loved the sound of coins in my hand. Now, if you've got one of those fancy silver dollars, we have a deal."

"You're crazy, old man. Nobody carries those anymore. Listen, I'll give you twenty dollars."

"I told you, paper money ain't no good."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Not my concern. You could drive back down this mountain until you run out of gas and then start walking until you find a way home."

"Got any other ideas?"

"Well, I did hear a story of an old casino on the mountain that still pays out in silver dollars instead of paper slips. Don't know why they'd do that. Those coins are worth much more than a dollar apiece but, then again, that's not my concern either."

"Any idea where that casino might be?"

"Never checked out the story but if it's to be believed, it's hidden in the woods about a quarter mile east of here traveling by foot."

With few other options, I started walking through the woods. The dense forest made the journey difficult but finally an old cabin with a sign that read "Last Chance Casino" appeared. This had to be the place the old man talked about. Once inside, I noticed the room was lined with old slot machines, the type that accepted bills and paid in coins. I didn't need a big payout but I wanted the chance to be paid in silver dollars so I walked over to the fifty-cent machines, the largest denomination I could see and put ten dollars in one of them. I had no luck with that money or the next ten dollars but my third attempt resulted in a payout of five silver dollars. When I heard those coins drop into the payoff slot, I have to admit, that was the first time I've been happy while losing money at a casino. Now I just hoped the barge was still there when I returned with the coins.

"Well son, I see you're back. Got the money?"

I handed the old man a coin and loaded my car onto the barge. As we crossed the river, I started a conversation with the old man.

"I'm a stranger to these parts. Where are we? What's the name of this river?"

"Seems you weren't careful enough driving those narrow roads on the edge of the mountain. This here is the River Styx."