73
Friday, March 26, 2021, 5PM Eastern Standard Time
Commander Stephanie Smith, United States Coast Guard, exited the West Wing of the White House at the end of her shift and went toward her car. It had been another interesting “other Friday” as the President’s Military Aide. Someday she would tell her kids about it. If she had kids. If there was a someday.
She had been called in to the Oval Office per what had become the custom, with the Acting Acting Secretary of Defense quivering in his facemask with the President’s corporate logo on it. She had put the football down on the table and applied hand sanitizer to her latex gloves from the belt and holster that all visitors to the White House were required to don.
She noticed that the President’s face appeared a bit drawn, and whatever sort of toner or makeup had been applied to his skin, it seemed to be heavier, or perhaps of a darker hue. The President also seemed to wince as he moved, and he held his right palm on his lower back, as if he felt some pain. Could the virus be coming back?
“Okay, we’re going to make this extra-realistic this time,” the President had said. “The North Koreans just launched an ICBM on us, and it came close to my golf club. So we need to be ready to bring the fire and fury.”
The routine went pretty much according to previously established ritual, until it came to the end. As she pulled “the biscuit” out of the suitcase, and prepared to hand it to the Acting Acting Secretary, the President suddenly said, “Let’s try something.”
Both Commander Smith and Larry whipped their heads toward the President and waited expectantly.
“Let’s flip a coin,” the President said.
“A coin, sir?” Larry said.
“A coin,” the President said.
“For what, sir? Larry asked.
“Heads we launch, tails we don’t.”
“Are you joking, sir?”
“Sure,” the President said, smiling. “Sure. Big joke.”
Commander Smith, thinking fast, addressed the President directly, for the first time she ever had, other than the words “Yes sir.”
“Sir, if you prefer, I believe that an official coin is required in these situations,” she said.
“Official?” the President said.
“Yes sir, Mr. President.” She pulled an oversized coin out of her pocket. Both sides featured an anchor; on the “heads” side it read, “HONOR – RESPECT – DEVOTION TO DUTY;” on the “tails” it read, “SEMPER PARATUS” on a shield over the anchor, with several mission-statement-type phrases around the edge. With well-concealed panic, she realized that one of the phrases was something about diversity. She displayed the coin hiding that side.
“In the military, we use these challenge coins for all flipping,” she lied.
A white lie, she thought. To save the world. Lifesaving, it’s our job. “It’s the military way.”
“Gel it up.”
“Yes sir.” She put gel all over her gloved hands, rubbed them vigorously, then pulled the coin out, slathered it with gel, and rubbed it in turn. Then she handed him the coin, heads up.
She recalled the last occasion she had had use for the coin.
***
It was in a bar in Puerto Rico, years ago. A fellow lieutenant commander, also on shore leave, was trying to impress her.
“Hey, you got a challenge coin?”
“Sure,” she said.
“Hand it over,” he said. “I’m gonna show you something useful,” he had said, slurring his words.
He began flipping the oversized coin.
“Heads,” he said. “Heads. Heads. Heads. Heads. Heads.”
She had watched him flip. Over and over, it came up heads. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.
Finally, he handed it back. “So, if you’re ever in a jam, and you need something to come up heads for you,” he said, “use this thing. Also,” he said, “the great thing about this coin? It looks almost the fucking same on either side. So if it ever DOES come up tails, just point to the anchor and say, ‘See? Anchor. Heads again.’”
“So, was it heads every time just then?”
“We’ll never know, will we? Enough to fool an officer,” he said, grinning lasciviously.
“Nice,” she said. Then she had taken her leave, over his loud complaints. She had easily broken his grip on her arm with a move she had learned to use on panicked drowning people in Rescue Swimmer training, and bade the whole crew adieu. But she had filed that piece of information away.
** *
Now, she thought, the world was possibly going to be saved by a drunken potential #MeToo case.
The President looked at the coin, and then at the Commander.
“This is the official military way?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay,” he said.
“But one other thing, sir.”
“Yeah?”
“In the military, it’s heads, no-go; tails, we go. Tails means we will go forward with whatever is in question.”
“Heads, no go?” the President repeated.
“And tails means we go.”
Larry was looking at her in suppressed terror. His eyes seemed to radiate the message, I really hope you have a plan here.
“Okay,” the President said, squinting at the coin.
He can’t see it, Stephanie suddenly realized. He can’t see stuff close up, but he’s too vain to wear reading glasses. So if it does come up tails, I can almost certainly fool him into thinking it’s heads.
“Okay,” the President said again. “Give him the dinner roll, biscuit, whatever.”
Stephanie handed the biscuit to Larry.
“Now we flip,” the President said.
He flipped the coin. It fell on the floor. Stephanie quickly stooped and picked it up.
“Heads,” she said, displaying it for the President and handing it to him.
“Heads,” he said. “So we go.”
“No, sir,” Stephanie said. “We agreed, ‘Heads, no-go.’”
“Oh yeah,” the President said.
Was that a trace of disappointment in his eyes? she thought.
“Okay,” the President said. “We stand down, I guess.”
“Yes sir,” Stephanie said.
The President held the coin out to Stephanie.
“No, sir,” she said. “It would be my honor, and the honor of all the military that serve you faithfully, if you would keep that coin and use it for all official Presidential coin flips.”
The President looked at her for a moment, then opened the center drawer in the Resolute Desk and placed the coin inside. He then put his right palm on his lower back again and waved at them.
“Okay,” he said. “You guys can go. See you in two weeks, if not before.”
Stephanie quickly pivoted, packed up the football, closed and locked it, picked it up with her left hand, turned, clicked her heels, and saluted with perhaps a bit too much energy, and she and the Acting Acting Secretary walked out of the Oval Office.
“How did you do that?” whispered Larry as they walked away.
“Just remember,” she told him under her breath, nodding and smiling to Mrs. Johnson. “It always comes up ‘heads.’ And even if it doesn’t, he can’t see it – no reading glasses. So, tell him it’s heads every time, point to the anchor, until you can figure something else out.”
They walked down the hall side by side. Stephanie thought about what Gary had told her about the President being an instrument of God.
Then she wondered whether it was possible for her to put in her retirement papers before the close of business.
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian