Four Three One

Four Three One

Four words- three seconds -one lifetime

The young woman stood there as his words echoed in her head, rolling around like metal marbles in an empty coffee can, heavy, going in circles. He probably rehearsed those four words over a million times in his mind, now being very purposefully spoken with planned precision and complete confidence. His voice was a deafening whisper.

Four words. Three seconds. One lifetime. The woman struggled to keep her breath from trying to escape, wondering how she could appear to breathe normally when her heart was pounding a million times per second. Could he hear her heart? Thankful for her heavy tweed coat she was wearing and long scarf, maybe they would help camouflage pseudo-calmness, she remained standing tall and erect; she refused to look at him.

It wasn’t an issue of pride; it was self-preservation. The young lady was a single mom who had just turned thirty a few weeks ago; in late October, she thought about the plastic Sponge-Bob clock her children proudly wrapped in the Sunday Funnies pages and presented to her as her birthday gift. She thought about the four words she told her two beautiful children as she left them with a friend at Starbucks across the street, in the quaint college town near Cleveland. Four words, three seconds, one lifetime – she was a single mom, Jonathan and Rose’s primary provider and only caregiver, and now that man’s words, his unbelievable words, could change all that.

The mom noticed the shiny object in the man’s hand, “Don’t stare at it,” she told herself, but it was nearly impossible not to. It was an image that would forever be ingrained into her mind, “Look away, don’t look at him,” she implored herself, “don’t look at it, look away, look down...”

She stood tall and focused on his shoes. They were white sneakers, maybe generic. The object in his hand had such a glare; it was so shiny and caught the corner of her eye, how could it not? It was just a short breath away from her face. “Look away,” she reminded herself.

It’s amazing how one object in a man’s hand could change a woman’s life forever. Amazing how four words, three seconds, could change a life.

I’ll------be------right----back. The lady told her children those last four words, and now she doesn’t know if it’s a lie. She could imagine whatever was going on there across the street in the warm safety of the Starbucks. The young mom knows Jonathan is somehow trying his best to help his younger sister Rose decide which sugar cookie to pick, the snowman or the reindeer, as they ordered their hot cocoa from the patient barista in the green apron; as they waited for their mom; who always had tried her best to keep her promises until now. The friend paid for the two kids: “Your mom owes me.” Said the friend.

“I’ll be right back,” the mom told her kids just moments ago, and those words were turned into a lie by the man’s words:

“Give me the money.”

Four words, three seconds, one lifetime. The three seconds the man took to speak. The three seconds it took the mom to go inside the bank instead of the ATM outside, the four words spoken effortlessly, the lives that would change… The mom’s life would not be the same: the realization of the uncertainty of life, the threat and fear of possibly never seeing her kids again, wondering who would raise Jonathan and Rose if something happened, wondering if she’s been a good enough influence. The bank teller’s life wouldn’t be the same as the teller looked across the counter in terror at the young female customer, who had the shiny chrome gun pointed by her head: she wondered if she would be shot, what if he gets away, will he be back? The children waiting across the street for their mom wouldn’t be the same as they heard sirens and saw a dozen police cars and emergency vehicles flood the charming university neighborhood. “Where’s our mom?” was their only thought as the friend pried Jonathan and Rose away from the coffee shop window.

The young mom saw the silvery barrel of the gun by the brow of her head; she stared at the man’s shoes instead of the polished object in his hand; his voice penetrated her ears and sank heavily, rolling around inside her like metal marbles in an empty coffee can.

Four words. Three seconds. One lifetime.