fiction: The Choices We Make

the Choices We Make

We are born. We die. In those events we have no say.

We believe what happens between those two events is completely our doing,

a result of the choices we make.

But you cannot outrun fate.

You’re 17 years old, living on a farm north of Philadelphia. One summer day, your sweetheart Millie, the neighbor’s daughter, bounces up the path.

“Jeb, d’ya know what! Mizzes Warner’s circus is coming!” Millie exclaims.

“Aye, I saw the signs ‘round town,” you reply, throwing feed onto the ground and sidestepping hens. “They’ll be here this weekend.”

“No, Jeb, the train’s here now! Let’s go, I hear they’ve a new elephant!” Millie grins.

Do chores

“Nah Millie, these hens’ll eat each other if I don’t get ‘em fed,” you sigh enviously, turning your back to her. Millie runs off.

See circus

“Pa’ll never know if I sneak off for an hour.” You gleefully throw the last of the feed into the air and run laughing down the path with Millie.

The circus is loud, colorful, smelly, and exotic; a far cry from your quiet farm. You sneak into the mess tent with Millie, where you spot the lion tamer and acrobats. Millie runs over. You hesitate.

Leave Millie

Backing out of the tent, you spend time admiring the animals before heading home for chores. You tell your family about the elephants, and everyone excitedly agrees to go.

Join Millie

“Howz’it goin’?” asks the lion tamer.

“D’ya like workin’ ‘ere?” Millie asks, eyes wide. “I wanta learn ta fly. Ma says I got no chance.”

“Oh honey, we’re always looking for more flying gals,” remarks the corseted acrobat. “And you, lad. We could use another animal caretaker.”

Join circus

“Oh boy!” you exclaim. “I love animals!” You both leave that night with the circus to set up in the next town. You send a postcard to your family.

A month later you chop your finger off your left-hand while cutting firewood. As the doctor bandages you up, you imagine being back home, hand intact.

The next year, appreciating your interest in animal husbandry, the ringmaster sends you to the veterinary school in Philadelphia. You graduate at the top of your class and rejoin the circus as a veterinarian.

Several years later, you propose to Millie and marry that Christmas.

Stay home

Millie sends you a postcard.

Jeb, I’ve gone to California to learn to fly! Don’t forget about me!

Love,

Millie

A month later, while building a new fence, you chop your finger off your left-hand. As the doctor bandages you up, you imagine being in California, hand intact.

Your family encourages you to go to veterinary school in Philadelphia. You graduate top of your class a year after the Bronx Zoo opens in New York and are offered a job there working with the exotic animals.

move to nyc

You gladly accept the position in New York. One weekend, you go with a cousin to the circus.

There you gasp with wonder as you watch Millie, your childhood sweetheart, fly across the sky from the trapeze bars.

You sneak into the tent afterwards.

“Millie!” you exclaim. She rushes into your outstretched arms. A pang of regret flashes across your heart.

For a year you exchange letters. You go to Atlantic City to propose and marry that Christmas. You leave your position with the zoo to go work as the circus’ veterinarian.

stay in philadelphia

After graduating, you return to the farm to offer your services to your town. One weekend, you go to the circus with friends.

There you gasp with wonder as you watch Millie, your childhood sweetheart, fly across the sky from the trapeze bars.

You sneak into the tent afterwards.

“Millie!” you exclaim. She rushes into your outstretched arms. A pang of regret flashes across your heart.

For a year you exchange letters. You propose the next time her circus comes to town and get married the following Christmas. You eagerly join the circus as their veterinarian.

Marry Millie

You and Millie are happily married with a three-year old son. One evening, Millie practices a new trick atop an elephant’s back while you and your son watch.

Another elephant spooks and begins to charge. You toss your son out of the way as the elephant tramples you. Everything fades to dark.

Blackness

You’ve lived the in-between from birth to death. But death comes for everyone;

it always knows where to find you.

You think your choices took you to this spot. But you were always supposed to end up here.

Death has been waiting, and it is glad to meet you.

Lisa Vitale

Lisa loves writing and had her first poem published in the local newspaper when she was 6 years old! Her mother also swears the local library published a story she wrote when she was 6 or 7; it’s stuffed somewhere on a dusty shelf in a library on Long Island, New York. Lisa took a hiatus after her early success, but has lately gotten back into writing fiction after a dry spell of technical and scientific writing. Most recently, she placed 8th in the final round of NYC Midnight’s 2024 100-word competition. She lives in Alaska and loves all the nature-based activities.