Win Some, Lose Some

by Shay Savage

  I couldn’t even consider looking at the ticket, so I went back to packing, feeling like a loser.

  Chapter 20—If It’s Ignored Long Enough, It’s Still There

  “Are you really going to let me sit here, knowing that ticket is in the next room and that it might be the winning ticket and that it’s going to expire tomorrow? Are you really, really going to do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “You are so stubborn.”

  It was at least the fifteenth time in the last hour Mayra had brought up the ticket. I really, really wished I hadn’t said anything about it, and I was considering sneaking down to the kitchen in the middle of the night to throw the damn thing back in the trash where it belonged.

  On the plus side, my avoidance of the ticket and all things related to discussing it had led to getting a lot of packing done. My third box was almost filled, and as soon as it was finished, I was going to make sure I ended up with cake and sex. Maybe both at the same time.

  I thought about what that would be like, and a smile crept over my face as the images and tastes flashed through my mind.

  “Matthew, I’ve been thinking about the ticket,” Mayra said.

  Fantasy destroyed.

  “No,” I said automatically. I shoved a calculator and stapler into the box, figuring those were always needed at school, and wondered where my staple remover might be.

  “Listen to me for a minute,” she said.

  I shook my head vigorously.

  “You’re avoiding this,” she claimed.

  “Yep,” I answered.

  “Matthew—that’s not good for you.”

  I ignored her and continued to take various office supplies out of the desk drawer and put them into the box. A notebook, a pair of scissors, seven different pens, all different colors—one for each day of week—and a three-hole punch joined the stapler and calculator.

  “Dr. Harris told you avoiding things that upset you is not the same as coping,” she said.

  I sighed and crossed my arms over the top of the desk. I dropped my forehead to rest on top of them. I felt Mayra’s fingers on top of my head, and I let out another long breath.

  “Why don’t you want to know if the ticket is the winner?” Mayra asked quietly.

  “Because if it is, I have to do something about it,” I said. “As long as I don’t know, I don’t have to make the decision.”

  “But if you wait, it definitely doesn’t win,” she told me. “It will expire, and then it doesn’t do you any good.”

  “It wouldn’t do me any good anyway,” I insisted.

  “You don’t want the money?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “What bothers you the most—not wanting the money or having to make a decision about it?” Mayra asked.

  “The decision.” I knew as soon as the words were out of my mouth that they were both true and a mistake.

  “You can’t avoid decisions,” Mayra said. She kept running her fingers through my hair, which was keeping me relatively stable as she talked. “Making choices is important in all aspects of your life, and avoiding the hard ones isn’t going to help you in the long run. You can’t just wait for things to go away. What if you couldn’t decide on what to have for dinner? Eventually, you’d starve.”

  “I haven’t done that in a long time,” I told her.

  “But you have, haven’t you?”

  “I haven’t starved,” I pointed out.

  “Went to bed hungry?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you don’t want the money, Matthew…” Mayra paused and let out a long breath. “Well, I guess I’ll support that. I won’t like it, and I won’t pretend to understand it, but I will support it. But refusing to make a decision? I can’t let you do that.”

  Lifting my head, I looked up into her eyes for a brief moment before looking down again. Her expression told me everything. She was right, and she knew it. She wasn’t going to let it go. I also knew she was right. Refusing to look at the numbers wasn’t about the ticket or the money. I just didn’t want to have to decide. There was too much to consider, too much to worry about, too much riding on such a choice. I didn’t want to face it.

  I couldn’t deny the truth in Mayra’s words. What if I continued to ignore everything I didn’t want to have to face as I went through life? What would that be like for Mayra? If I wanted her to stay with me, and I definitely did, I couldn’t just avoid major decisions in our lives. I couldn’t put all of that on her and expect her to make decisions for me. It wouldn’t be fair, and it wouldn’t be a partnership, which was what we were supposed to have.

  “Okay,” I heard myself whisper.

  “Okay?” Mayra repeated, turning the single word into a question.

  “I’ll look,” I said. “I’ll look to see if it’s the winning ticket.

  Both my arms and legs felt cold, numb, and hot all at once. My hands were shaking so badly, I couldn’t see the numbers on the slightly duck-sauce stained and stinky piece of paper.

  “I found it,” Mayra announced. She turned my laptop around and displayed the Ohio lotto website. “Do they match?”

  I tried to focus on the trembling paper, but I couldn’t really see it. I ended up dropping it on the table next to the computer and trying to read it that way.

  The screen showed 8, 19, 28, 29, 32, and 38.

  Just like the ticket.

  “Oh my God,” Mayra muttered.

  My hands stopped shaking, and a cold feeling of dread washed over me. In a moment’s time, images of my life as a ridiculously rich man flooded through my brain. At first, everything seemed great. I could afford the best health insurance and medication. Megan’s care was solidified with private specialists and in-home care. Mayra’s and my tuitions were not a problem. Then things in my head began to change. Arguments over what to do with the money, what charitable organizations were the most deserving, and which relatives to avoid this month became the focal point of my imaginary conversations with Mayra.

  “I don’t want it,” I whispered. My gaze moved to her face. Mayra looked like she was suffering from shock, much as I was. “I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t take that chance, Mayra. I can’t.”

  For several minutes, we both just alternated between staring at the ticket and staring at the computer screen. The weird feeling was still permeating my limbs because I knew this wasn’t really over yet. It wouldn’t be over until I burned the damn ticket in the fireplace or maybe just flushed it down the toilet.

  Of course, it was Mayra who broke out of the trance first with all the answers on the tip of her tongue.

  “I know what to do with it,” Mayra said suddenly. When I looked up at her face, her eyes were sparkling. “I know exactly what to do.”

  I gripped the edge of the computer desk with my fingers. My hands were shaking, and I couldn’t look Mayra in the eye. I had the feeling she wasn’t going to suggest flushing the ticket, and I wasn’t sure I could cope with any other options.

  “It will be okay,” Mayra said softly as she placed her hand over mine. “I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

  “What are we going to do?” I could barely hear my own voice.

  “We’re going to give it away.”

  ~oOo~

  It was entirely possible I should have made Mayra drive.

  Of course, that never would have worked because I wouldn’t have been able to get out of the car and move with any sort of stealth, and this was a stealth mission. I turned down the proper street and slowed the car down as we approached a simple brick house near the end of the cul-de-sac.

  Two weeks ago, we had quietly and anonymously claimed the prize money. With a little help from the attorney Dr. Harris recommended to me, I got a financial advisor, opened a money market account, and chose the lump sum payment. Even after taxes, the number on my bank statement made me queasy.

  Mayra had a stack of one-hundred-dollar bills tucked neatly into a card, which was stuffed into
an envelope. There was also a check, written by the attorney I hired so it couldn’t be traced back to me, for half of the winnings. On the envelope, there were three simple words: For the Baby

  “What if they don’t believe it’s real?” I asked for the hundredth time. “What if they just assume it’s fake and throw it away? What if—”

  “Stop the ‘what-iffing,’” Mayra said. She craned her neck out the car window to look down the street. “I don’t see Scott’s car. I think we’re good.”

  “I don’t want them to know where it came from,” I said, knowing I was repeating the same fears over and over. “What if Dr. Harris—”

  “Hush,” Mayra said. “I know, baby. Don’t worry. She said she wouldn’t tell, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Then we’ll be fine.”

  With my foot planted on the brake, we came to a stop near the driveway of the brick house. Mayra jumped out, ran up to the door, and slipped the envelope into the mail slot. She turned quickly and raced back to the car, threw herself into the passenger seat, and whipped the seatbelt around her.

  “Let’s go!” she shouted. “Down the street and out of sight!”

  We parked at the top of the next street over and waited. Mayra was breathing hard though I knew the brief run hadn’t exerted her. I really didn’t know how to feel, so I just sat and stared at my hands on the wheel as Mayra got out her iPhone.

  “We’re all set,” she said into the phone. “The envelope is through the mail slot, and Aimee should be getting off work right now. Do you still have the number I gave you? Good!”

  I glanced over at Mayra as she turned to face me. Her eyes were bright with excitement and held no concern at all. They served to calm me a bit though I couldn’t look her in the face for very long.

  “Perfect!” Mayra said. “Thank you so much for agreeing to do this, Dr. Harris. I think you are the only one Matthew would trust to keep this anonymous. Talk to you soon!”

  Mayra reached over and grabbed my hand in hers.

  “Let’s go,” she said. “I’ve got to hear this!”

  I shook my head, not at all convinced this part of the plan was a good one, but I got out of the car and followed Mayra between the houses, through a couple of back yards, and to a large clump of lilac bushes just to the side of the driveway of the Schultz’s house. We crouched down and out of sight just before Scott’s light blue Civic pulled into the driveway.

  “I still think it’s a bunch of crap,” Scott was saying. “I mean seriously, Aimee—who would do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know,” Aimee said as she maneuvered out of the car. “It can’t hurt to find out though, right?”

  They walked around the corner to the front door, which was out sight but within hearing range. It was only a minute later they were coming back, envelope in hand.

  “If it’s all fake, what would be the point?” Aimee said as they came back outside. “No one would go through that kind of trouble for a joke.”

  “It’s not funny,” Scott grumbled.

  “Well, it not like we’ll be any worse off if it is fake.”

  “It’s going to cost me in gas money just to get to the bank,” Scott stated.

  “It’s worth a shot…”

  The doors to the car shut, and the pending parents backed out of the driveway and continued down the street. Mayra turned toward me and grasped both of my hands. Her eyes still sparkled with excitement, and she squealed slightly as she gripped my fingertips before we both ran back through the yards to my parked car.

  My hands were shaking a bit, which made it hard to turn the key. My heart pounded, and I could even see my pulse thumping on the insides of my wrists. I tried a calming breath, but I knew there was nothing panicky about how I was feeling—I was just as excited as Mayra was.

  “Let’s do the rest!” Mayra beamed at me as she held up a pile of envelopes full of cash.

  We stopped at the local animal shelter, the community center, the homeless shelter, and the VA. At each stop, we left the envelopes quickly and quietly before rushing out again. Once we’d hit all the charities in Oxford, we placed envelopes of cash in the mailboxes of all our friends and teachers.

  We found ourselves smiling a lot when we glanced at each other on the way back to my house. As soon as I parked the car in the driveway, we both leapt out and ran for the house. I fumbled with my key while my heart pounded, and Mayra shoved past me as soon as the door was opened. She ran straight into the living room and threw herself on the couch, laughing.

  “Oh my God, that was awesome!” she cried out.

  Caught up in her enthusiasm, I flung myself through the air and landed on top of her. She continued to laugh as I kissed her neck and her shoulder and then quickly moved her shirt up so I could kiss and poke the birthmark next to the strap of her bra. She coiled her hands into the hair on the sides of my head and brought my face to hers for a long, deep kiss.

  “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you and your ideas,” I told her. “I never would have thought to give half of it to Aimee and Scott for the baby. They were both so worried.”

  “And now they don’t have to be.”

  “Aimee is almost as lucky to have you in her life as I am,” I said, and I leaned back down to kiss her again.

  “Feels good to do something like that, doesn’t it?” Mayra said with a nod. “And they’ll never know where it came from, thanks to Dr. Harris.”

  “That works for me,” I replied with a smile.

  I couldn’t deny how happy the day of altruism made me feel, so I pulled the feelings close to me, turned them around inside of myself, and gave them back to Mayra a thousand times over.

  ~oOo~

  I was deliriously happy.

  Still psyched from sneaking around Aimee’s house and running off without getting caught, I finally got to use two of the three condoms tucked into the little drawer of the end table in the living room. When Mayra saw I had them stashed there, it led her to ask where else I had them hidden, which led to a weeklong “Where shall we have sex now?” marathon.

  Today, we were in the overstuffed blue chair in the living room—the last piece of furniture in the living room we hadn’t christened. Mayra was on top of me with her hands pressed against the arm of the chair above my head, while I had my legs dangling over the opposite arm. It gave me great leverage, and I met every movement as she bounced on top of me.

  In the background, I could just barely hear the television. It was tuned to the local news, which was continuing its story about the anonymous donations that had been showing up all over town, speculating about the donor’s ties to the lottery ticket winner, and hypothesizing where money was going to show up next.

  “Do you know how much I love that?” I asked as I pulled her by her shoulders until her ear was near my mouth. “How it drives me nuts when your tits bounce around?”

  Once I figured out how much she liked it when I talked like that, the words just kind of started to flow naturally.

  Mayra smiled slyly and leaned back a little, giving me a better view. Moving my hands down to grip her hips, I started increasing the pace as she rode me.

  “Oh, fuck! Matthew!”

  “You like that, dontcha?” I growled as I pushed against her. She buried her face in my shoulder and moaned. “Dirty…little…ugh!”

  She collapsed on me as I collapsed in the chair. I reached my hand around her head and entwined my fingers in her hair, pulling her head back enough to kiss her softly.

  That’s when the doorbell rang.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” I scrambled around in the chair, almost dumping Mayra on the floor in the process. She moved a lot more gracefully, jumping up and off of me and grabbing her jeans in one fluid motion while I struggled with the condom. My sweats were on the floor nearby, and I hauled them up over my hips while Mayra pulled my T-shirt on over her head.

  “What am I going to wear?”

  “You can go shirtless!
” she hissed. “It’ll take forever to button up mine!”

  She rolled my boxers and her shirt up in a ball and then tossed them, along with the condom, back behind the chair, which made me cringe. She quickly tried to straighten her hair with her fingers as she motioned for me to answer the door. I rubbed my hands over my face a couple of times and then walked to the foyer as calmly as I could. I opened the door slowly and peered around the edge. Who I saw there had me so flabbergasted, I couldn’t move or talk.

  “Aimee!” Mayra said as she came out of the living room. She reached around me and pushed the door back a little wider. My shirt was tied up in a little knot at her side to keep it from falling off of her, and her hair was still a disaster. I fought with the desire to fix it, but it would only bring attention to the fact, and Aimee might not notice otherwise. “What are you doing here?”

  Aimee looked back and forth between Mayra and me for a moment and then focused on me.

  “I know it was you,” she said quietly. “I know you left me the money.”

  ~oOo~

  I fixed drinks for the three of us—Coke for Mayra and me and a Sprite for Aimee since she didn’t want to drink anything with caffeine in it. Aimee’s drink went on the side table next to the chair where, a few minutes ago, Mayra and I had been naked. It was really, really hard not to think about that, but I focused on setting the other two drinks in their usual spots on the coffee table before I sat on the couch. Mayra and Aimee were already talking.

  Apparently, using Dr. Harris in order to remain anonymous was a pretty bad idea. As soon as Scott looked up the number and saw where it came from, Aimee remembered a conversation with Mayra about my sister.

  “I checked,” Aimee said, “and I found a girl with the last name of Rohan at the same hospital. I knew it had to be your sister.”

  Mayra had her head in her hands, and she kept looking up at me. I knew what she was doing. She was waiting for me to freak out, but I couldn’t blame her. I was kind of waiting for it myself.