The Lottery

by D. K. Wall

“Only that they are busy with moving that plant and now the latest corporate merger. That makes us small fish. And small fish don’t get fried.”

  “Well, not until they are hungry enough.”

  “Survival is about today. Not tomorrow.”

  Nathan leaned against the machinery and crossed his arms. “I don’t get it. You said that this plant is profitable.”

  “It is. Just not as much money as the suits want. Profitable ain’t profitable enough anymore.”

  “Too bad we can’t buy it ourselves.”

  Ronnie studied the floor before speaking quietly. “We mapped out a plan once.”

  “We?”

  “Bob Torrington, Chad Rivers, and me.” Bob was a long-time salesman who came in and out of the plant at least once a week and had been working there almost as long as Ronnie. Chad was the plant controller, a smart accountant who understood the need to invest to make money.

  “So, what happened?”

  “Fifty million reasons not to.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Chad ran the numbers. Figured out what it would take to buy this place off the suits. And invest in needed repairs. And get the sales channels going. Fifty million dollars.”

  Nathan whistled low. “Wow.”

  “The weird part is that’s really cheap and much less than what it used to be worth. But if you have a spare fifty million, we would probably make you a partner.”

  He chuckled and tapped the pocket holding his wallet. “I’m a little short.”

  A sly grin crossed Ronnie’s face. “Aren’t we all, son? In the meantime, we just keep working for the man as long as he will have us.”

  Nathan picked up a rag and wiped grease off his hands as he looked over his half-done project. “Okay, I’ll clean this up and clock out. See you in the morning.”

  Ronnie nodded, turned, and walked toward the lights. After a few steps, he hesitated and studied his clipboard. He turned back around. “Why are you still here?”

  Nathan spread his hands wide. “It takes a few minutes to pack up.”

  “No, I mean why are you still working here?”

  “I’m not leaving you, Ronnie.”

  “Well, you better. And soon. There are still companies who hire thirty-one-year-olds who know how to fix things.”

  “I ain’t quitting on you.”

  “This company is quitting you. Not today. Not tomorrow. But maybe next month or next year. Certainly not much longer.”

  “And go where? No one around here is hiring.”

  “Which is why you’ve got to leave. The town’s quitting you too, and you know it.”

  “I can’t sell the house. And even if I could, I’m upside down on it. Besides, I’ve never been anywhere else.”

  Ronnie studied his hands before speaking. “That’s the same crap your dad and I used to say to each other over beers on Friday nights. Cooking burgers on the grill, watching you and Charlie toss a football. Nora making baked beans in the kitchen and getting the potato salad out of the refrigerator. We couldn’t even imagine another way of living. Another place. I wonder, sometimes, what if we had moved? Would city doctors have caught Nora’s cancer in time? Would Charlie still be alive, married with kids? Would Mitch have been able to avoid driving that damned truck?” He looked up at Nathan, his eyes glistening. “Just promise me you’ll think about it. Take Donna and Jacob and go somewhere that boy of yours can have a future.”

  “If I leave, how will you keep this place running? Fix everything yourself?”

  Ronnie shrugged. “Bring Carl back. And I can work a wrench while I wait for them to pull the plug on this place.”

  “Yeah, but with me here, maybe we can keep this place running longer. And keep you in a job.”

  “Son, don’t worry about my job. Worry about yours.”

  “Don’t work that way.”

  “Yeah, it does. You owe it to Donna and Jacob, not me. That’s the way it works.” Ronnie crossed his arms. “If your dad had lived and Charlie had lived, would you still be here in Millerton?”

  “Probably. Hank and Danny wanted the Marines. Charlie wanted to teach and write books. But me? I like it here. Always have.”

  Ronnie uncrossed his arms and hung his head. “I like it here, too, but a simple question. Where do you want Jacob in twenty years? Here in Millerton or out there somewhere?”

  “Wherever he wants to be.”

  With a nod, Ronnie replied, “Then what you gotta do is make sure all his options are open. And being here when they close this place isn’t going to do it. So now I’m about to do what your dad would have done—kick you hard in the seat of your pants and tell you to go find something other than this plant. You hear me, boy?”

  “But—”

  “No back talk. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Now pack those tools up, clock out, go home to that wife of yours, and start figuring out another job in another town.”

  Mist rose from the puddles as Nathan walked out of the factory and across the expansive parking lot. The clouds were breaking up after the morning rains, and the bright sunshine was warming the humid air.

  Sweating by the time he reached his pickup truck, he unlocked the door and cranked the driver’s window open. He tossed his jacket on the hot vinyl seat before unbuttoning his shirt. It joined the jacket as he savored the sun beating down on his now-exposed black T-shirt.

  An afternoon off work. Jacob was in school then heading over to Luke’s house for the night, which meant they would have the house to themselves. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Donna had had some alone time.

  He knew other men ogled younger, skinnier girls, but he had never strayed or wanted to. Donna was a good partner and a great mother to Jacob. And he thought he loved her—was fairly sure. The old high school days of getting her out of her cheerleading outfit—as she eagerly removed his football jersey—might have been long behind them, but maybe leaving work early on a Friday and surprising Donna would be good for them.

  Trying to stay ahead of bills and raising a son was so time-consuming that they had settled into a routine: breakfast as they scrambled to get ready, separation for the workday, dinner in the kitchen, chores, sleep, repeat. Donna had commented many times that they never ate out except for pizza or burgers, the primary diet of a near teenager. On a special night, they splurged at the town’s Mexican restaurant out by the highway, as exotic as it got in Millerton.

  During the weekends, they shepherded Jacob to sporting events and activities with friends. Evenings were helping him with his homework and making sure he actually did it. Despite all the time demands, Nathan carved out opportunities for a little father-and-son pitching of a baseball, dribbling a basketball, or tossing a football. By the time Jacob was asleep in his bed each night, Nathan was exhausted from hours of parenting piled on top of hours of hard physical work. He and Donna had little time or energy for intimacy.

  Having the day free would be a blessing. He could surprise Donna with some couple time—maybe even some playtime in bed. They sure had not had much of that lately, and he couldn’t remember the last time they had done anything during the daylight hours. And since Jacob was spending the night with Luke, he might even take her to that Mexican restaurant—just the two of them.

  He planned the afternoon and decided to start the surprise off on a good foot: flowers, maybe some of those fancy chocolates, even some of those fruity wine coolers she liked and he detested. They tasted like the nasty punch the school used to serve at dances—and he and his buddies always tried to spike.

  Nathan reached into his back pocket and fished out his wallet. A few small bills lay tucked inside. He had a credit card, but that was reserved strictly for emergencies. He had taken nearly a year to pay off the deductible when Jacob had fallen off his bike at the age of eight.

  So forget the wine coolers, which meant he could avoid driving out to the stores by the interstate since Ab
e’s Market no longer carried beer and wine. Abe had not sold a single bottle since he’d walked into the store the morning after the accident and found the envelope of cash for the illicit beer. But he could still stop there for flowers. And maybe some chocolate.

  Donna would love it.

  9

  Nathan guided his pickup truck through the open gate of the factory, an empty guard shack serving as a lone sentry against trespassers, and turned onto Millerton Industrial Park Road. At the entrance of the industrial park, a battered traffic light swayed in the breeze from the overhead wires, its yellow caution flashing. To his left was a faded wooden sign marking the entrance to the Millerton Municipal Park. The two-lane Hilltop Road traversed to his right, leading to the next rural county as well as the paper company’s fire roads and the Point.

  Straight across the intersection, the road changed to the aptly named Broad Street, the main road through the center of town and the primary access to the interstate. During Millerton’s heyday, traffic had filled the two lanes in each direction though only a few vehicles traveled the road’s length any longer, semitrucks hauling their wares to and from the factory and locals running errands.

  A semi sat parked in the underutilized left-turn lane, its hazards blinking. The driver, no doubt, was inside Abe’s Market grabbing a snack, a soft drink, or lottery tickets. Or if Abe was lucky, all of the above. The truck stop by the interstate offered better parking for the big rigs, but Abe’s Market sold fresh biscuits handmade by Martha, a popular breakfast delicacy much tastier than fast-food fare.

  Nathan drove into the store’s parking lot, past the gas pumps, and parked beside a row of other pickup trucks. The lines marking parking spaces were faded and difficult to see in the cracked asphalt, but order reigned anyway. As he stepped from the truck, he spotted a flash of green trapped in the weeds growing beside the crumbling curb. What appeared to be a dollar bill was buffeted by the wind from a passing truck. Nathan leaned down to pick it up, smoothed the wet bill, and discovered a twenty, more money than he had in his wallet. He glanced around to see if anyone was looking for it, but no one was in sight.

  As always happened at moments like that, Nathan heard his father’s voice echo in his head with lessons of honesty and integrity. He had been dead for half of Nathan’s life, but the voice was as loud as if he stood in front of him. Pocketing found money was not an option without a reasonable effort to find its owner, so he held it between his fingers as he crossed the parking lot and pushed open the glass door.

  Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling, interspersed with ceiling fans slowly turning to move the warm, humid air. To the left, grocery staples including cereals and canned goods lined four rows of tall metal shelves. Baskets overflowed with fresh vegetables and fruits delivered by the farmers each morning when Abe opened the doors at six a.m. During the winter months, vegetables, fruits, jellies, jams, and preserves canned on local farms replaced the fresh produce.

  Beyond the shelves at the far end of the store, a group of elderly men huddled in a booth, sipping coffee and swapping tall tales. A handmade sign adorned their table: Reserved for the Liar’s Club. Not that the sign was necessary, because the same men occupied the same space every day.

  Beside the tables at the back of the store, glass-fronted cases displayed a small selection of meats for sale. Martha would slice the meats for take-home, but she also served fresh biscuits in the morning and created deli sandwiches and homemade potato salad for lunch. In the winter, she might have a pot of chili or beef stew cooking.

  Beside the deli counter, shelving displayed fresh flowers gathered from her own gardens at their house behind the store. She called it the “just because” section, saying men should buy flowers for their wives periodically “just because.” Abe called it the “I screwed up” section, but never when Martha might overhear him.

  To Nathan’s right, behind a counter overflowing with racks of candy bars, Abe ran the cash register, a folded newspaper laid down on his stool while he helped a paying customer. The truck driver from the rig in the street handed over cash for a pair of biscuits and a lottery ticket, another person hoping for a magical win to take him away from the drudgery of work. With the sale complete, he exited the store and ambled back across the pavement to the idling truck.

  Abe picked up his newspaper and settled onto his stool. “Morning, Nathan. Did Ronnie give you a lunch break today?”

  “Nope. I have the afternoon off because I have to work tomorrow. No-overtime rule and all that.”

  “Try owning your own place. You never get overtime, no matter how many hours you work.” Abe shrugged as he positioned his reading glasses on his nose. “You see this article about your old nemesis, Ricky Ward?”

  “What did he do?”

  “Got arrested again, pulled over for DWI, and they found a bunch of pills on him. Stolen prescriptions again. Is that the third or fourth time? What a waste of talent.”

  “Poor guy.”

  Abe looked over the top of his glasses. “His choice to have the pills.”

  “Yeah, sure, but you have to feel for him. Great college-football career. Left school early for the draft. And tears his ACL in a stupid pick-up basketball game before signing a contract. No money. No future. Some doctor gets him hooked on pain medicine. It’s like he was the luckiest guy on the planet with all that talent, and then suddenly he’s the unluckiest.”

  Abe harrumphed and snapped his newspaper. “You didn’t feel sorry for him the last time you saw him—lying on top of him in the mud after walloping him.”

  “That was different. He was trying to beat me then.” Nathan grinned and held up the twenty-dollar bill. “Found this out front. Must have been out there in this morning’s rain.”

  “Must be your lucky day.”

  “Don’t want my luck coming from someone else’s misfortune. Anybody been asking about it?” He motioned toward the old men at the table.

  “Not heard a word. If you asked them, one of them might ‘remember’ it, but I wouldn’t trust it. The four of them have been at that table since seven and haven’t spent twenty dollars yet.”

  Nathan looked around the store, hoping to see someone frantically looking for lost money, but no one else was in the aisles. “I don’t want to take someone’s money.”

  “Take? I didn’t see you knock some old lady down and steal her purse.” Abe shrugged. “You feel guilty about it, then put it in the offering plate on Sunday. I think you should just buy Donna or Jacob something and be done with it.”

  Nathan grinned as he pointed at the cash register. “Then you end up with it with absolutely no guilt.”

  Abe spread his hands in mock protest. “Hey. It’s just business.”

  Nathan laughed. “I was here to buy Donna some of Martha’s flowers, so I guess it’s your lucky day.”

  “Uh-oh. What did you do?”

  Nathan shook his head. “Nothing. I swear. Since I was off work early anyway and had to work tomorrow, thought I would show up with some flowers in hand.” Holding up the found money, he continued, “And since I have a little spending money, maybe some of those chocolates she likes.”

  “Good plan. Martha will be glad to pick out a good bunch.” Abe popped open the newspaper to read the latest Carolina Panthers’ news as Nathan went to the back of the store.

  Buying flowers was such a trap. If he spent too much, she would think he was asking forgiveness—too little, and she would think he didn’t care, which meant he would ask forgiveness. If he didn’t buy them at all, she would claim he took her for granted, so he would ask forgiveness. Nathan had learned long before that the three magic words in a marriage weren’t “I love you” but “I am sorry,” even if he had no clue what he was apologizing for.

  Martha beamed as he explained what he needed. “You men are such clueless creatures. Donna deserves flowers, but stop looking at those roses. Expensive flowers mean you’re guilty, and she’ll wonder what you did wrong. Get her roses on her birthday,
anniversary, Mother’s Day, but not the rest of the year unless you get them all the time.”

  She motioned toward bundles of flowers still sparkling from the morning rains. “Now, these wildflowers are the perfect ‘I was thinking of you’ message. Simple, sweet, and beautiful. Let me make her a special bouquet real quick.”

  As Martha assembled the blooms, Nathan walked down the aisle to the display of chocolates left over from Valentine’s Day and Easter. He picked up one box and whistled low at the price tag.

  Martha slipped up beside him with the flowers and shook her head. “Nope, wrong. Fancy chocolates are like roses. Guilty before the charges are even read. Donna loves these little Dove chocolates. Get her a small bag of those.”

  Nathan placed his purchases on the counter in front of Abe, who folded his newspaper, slid his reading glasses on top of his head, and grinned at the pile. “Chocolate and flowers, a lethal combination. You sure you aren’t in trouble?” He took the found twenty from Nathan’s hand. “Or maybe you’re just trying to continue your lucky streak once you get home to that beautiful wife.”

  As Nathan’s face reddened, Martha’s voice floated from the back of the store. “You stop it, Abe, or you better show up with flowers in hand if you want dinner tonight.”

  Abe winked as he returned Nathan’s change of a dollar and a few coins.

  Nathan looked at the money. “If today is my lucky day, maybe I should just buy one of those lottery tickets.”

  “Sure. You never know. One of the scratch-off ones?”

  “Nah, I mean the big one.”

  “There’s two big ones. The Powerball drawing is Saturday, but someone out in California won it Wednesday, so it’s only a forty-million jackpot.”

  “Only forty million? A man couldn’t put food on the table with that pocket change.”

  “Wise guy.” Abe grinned. “I meant the Mega Million is the one you want. Jackpot is one hundred fifty-four million. You win that in tonight’s drawing, and I will never see you again, now will I?”

  “Only if you visit white sandy beaches on a tropical island.” Nathan shrugged and handed back the cash.