As I was editing one of the last stories in my collection I realized this particular one is a direct call back to one of my biggest childhood writing influences, Alfred Hitchcock.
Just to give you an idea of what a strange child I was, when I was in 5th grade we were given a writing assignment in which we were to explain in an essay who we would like to meet if we could meet anyone in the world. They could be dead or alive in all of human history and who do you think it was that I picked? Mr. Alfred Hitchcock, of course.
I said I would build a time machine so that I could go back in time to meet him. I was obsessed with Alfred Hitchcock Presents and watched it every night on Nick at Nite (along with Mary Tyler Moore, Rhoda, and The Lucy Show). Ah, the good 'ole days. Anyway, here's the story I will be including in the upcoming collection.
The Lottery
The
high-pitched beeping alarm rouses me from my deep sleep, the sound reminding me
that the two billion dollars I won in the Georgia State Lottery was nothing but
a dream. I force myself to sit up.
Lately
I’ve been waking up with a mildly terrible feeling that something is going to
happen to me, like I will be struck down by a car in a crosswalk or I am going
to choke to death on a crouton very soon.
Dying isn’t the scariest part for me though. My parents would be devastated for sure, but that is the
natural reaction when losing a child. I don’t have any children, so leaving any
offspring behind doesn’t bother me either. The scariest part of this being dead scenario is how
absolutely positive I am that my husband, Kenny, would be able to get back to
life as usual within days of becoming a widower. He’s simply not a mourning person. That’s why I’ve been extra careful when crossing the street
and eating salads at lunch.
After showering and getting dressed I go to the
kitchen. The only signal I need to
know that Kenny is awake is the sound of the morning news report at full volume
coming from the dining room. I
told him I didn’t want a TV in the room where we eat, but did he listen? No, because Kenny makes most of the
money, so Kenny makes all of the decisions.
We’ve
been married for the better part of ten years. This year will be number nine. Our relationship is mechanical at this point. Name a time of day and I can tell you
where Kenny and I are and what each of us is doing.
At
2:40 p.m. Monday – Friday I am just getting back from my lunch break. I’m sitting down in my cubicle, headset
on my head, and I’m logging into the phone system. Kenny is looking at pornography in his big shot corner
office downtown. Our marriage,
it’s like clockwork.
Sometimes
I lay awake at night and watch as the shadows of leaves from the fur tree
outside of our bedroom window catch the moonlight and wash over Kenny’s
peaceful face. When he’s awake
he’s always so serious, so burdened by me, by life, but when he’s asleep he
looks almost dead and so he looks almost...happy.
Did
you know he used to call me “fancy face”?
Yeah, back at the beginning of our relationship, all our friends said we
were co-dependent on each other.
No one would accuse us of that now though. Over the years we’ve gained our own independence and learned
we can do this “marriage” thing all by ourselves.
My
cell phone rings beside me on the kitchen counter. The vibrations coming from it startle me into spilling some
coffee from the too-full mug I’m holding.
I pick up the phone to answer it.
“Hello”,
I say.
“Hello,
angel.”
It’s
my mother. God love her, but
damned if she doesn’t sound like some adult from one of the Charlie Brown
specials. Luckily she doesn’t have
much time to talk, so I’m off the phone before I know it. I grab my purse by the back door and
slip on some black flats. Kenny
doesn’t say a word as the back door creaks open and then shuts behind me. He knows exactly where I’m going and
exactly when I’ll be home. Like
clockwork, remember?
The
elevator in my office building is unusually crowded today. There must be an important meeting or
something. As soon as I settle
into my cubicle in the back corner I look over to see Caelum. We both started at the company the same
year and we’ve sat next to each other ever since. We also went to the same high school, but we weren’t friends
then. I don’t know if you would
say we are friends now, but we’re friendly.
On
this particular morning something is different about him. He looks either tanner or toner. I can’t decide, which doesn’t stop me
from staring. He just looks so
dreamy all of a sudden. Listen to
me! Did I, an intelligent woman in
my 40’s, just use the word “dreamy” to describe someone I’ve known for over a
decade? I must be losing my
marbles.
“Good
morning, Caelum,” I say in a too-high-school-girl-giddy tone.
“Morning,
Lillian,” he replies with just the corners of his lips turned up in a
smile.
We
both sit at our desks and log into the phone system. It’s hard for me not to eavesdrop on Caelum’s phone calls
all morning. He sounds so
pleasant, so masculine, so darn sexy!
I get goose bumps when I hear him tell a customer he’s transferring them
to our supervisor. I don’t know
what’s come over me!
“What’s
got you all smiley today, missy?” Caelum asks as he stands up and takes off his
headset to go to lunch. Before I
can answer, he grabs the blazer off the back of his swivel chair and says,
“Let’s go eat,” and I nearly faint.
We’re
sitting in the break room surrounded by the inane chatter of office managers
and co-workers. I didn’t feel like
risking the salad today with all those hazardous croutons, so all I brought was
an apple.
Caelum looks up from the large spread of food he
got from the cafeteria. “That’s
all you’re eating?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say trying to laugh it off. “Diet starts today!”
He gives me a confused look and then digs into his
food. We are quiet through most of
lunch. Slowly the tables around us
empty until it’s just Caelum and I sitting across from one another. After finishing what seems like the
fifth course of his meal, he gets up to throw away his trash. I pull out my phone to look at the time
and I hear the break room door open and then close. I assume he’s gone back to work, but when I put my phone
away I am surprised to see Caelum standing right in front of me.
I’m speechless as he reaches out and caresses the
side of my face. I can’t remember
the last time anyone has done this to me.
It feels 10,000 times better than nice.
“What are you doing?” I whisper, blushing
uncontrollably.
He leans down to me and says quietly, “Lillian,
haven’t you seen the way I’ve been looking at you?” Still speechless, I shake my head. “Well, you should start paying more attention.”
I close my eyes as our lips meet. So warm, so inviting. It’s a good thing I’m sitting down
because my legs, my arms, everything turns to jelly. I can feel him pulling away, but I grab a hold of him
suddenly.
“Please don’t leave me,” I say.
“Lillian, we have to go back to work,” he says.
“No, we don’t have to do anything, Caelum.”
“Yes we do, Lillian,” he says. “We’re taking the jet to Belize in an
hour.”
I’m sad and confused. I feel him shaking me and when I open my eyes I see it’s
actually Kenny’s face before mine.
It’s then I realize we actually did win the Georgia State Lottery and I
haven’t worked or spoken to Caelum in weeks. And everything that had happened was the same dream I’ve
been having since we won all of this damn money. Kenny and I really are billionaires and yet somehow, I still
wake up every morning feeling extremely disappointed.
