Grandma says, “Mom, didn’t your mother live to ninety-two?”
Great-granny grunts twice.
“Ninety-three, excuse me,” Grandma says.
Renee says, “So split the difference and have a baby at twenty-one, Christy.”
“Thanks for planning my life,” I say.
“Oh, Christy.” My grandma waves me away. “Can’t you take a joke?”
I don’t say anything, because I know she’s not joking. “Whose turn is it?” I say angrily.
“Mom, is it your turn?” Renee says.
“Great-granny had her turn,” I say. “She bought Oriental, remember?”
“I’ll take a turn,” Renee says. “Unless you want to go ahead of me, Kate?”
I blurt out, “How do you guys ever finish anything? You move so slowly and talk so much, it’ll be Easter by the time we’re done.”
Five pairs of eyes stare at me. Even Granny is looking at me. I suddenly feel embarrassed by my outburst. No one knows what to say, and I mutter an apology.
Renee pats my arm. “Aw, youth.”
“It’s hard being with a bunch of old ladies,” Kate says.
“No, really, it’s not,” I say. “I’m just impatient.” I pick up the dice and give them to Renee. “Your turn.”
At first everyone is real quiet, and I feel very bad. But after a few minutes, the chatter starts. I bite my lip and endure it. The rest of the visit moves slowly. I try to understand them, I try to be patient, I even try to contemplate the true meaning of Free Parking. But I fidget and squirm and probably make everyone feel uncomfortable. Two hours later, the game is still going. Renee checks her watch and says it’s time for her hairdresser’s appointment. Without ceremony, we clean up the board, get up, and kiss Great-granny goodbye. They will meet again for the game next week. I’m sure they’ll be happy that I’ll be in school.
After Mom has dropped off her kin, I turn to her. “How do you stand it week after week?”
“Stand what?”
“The game, Mom. They move so slow. It’s so boring!”
“It depends on what you want out of the game, Christy. For you, the outcome is important—who wins, who loses. For your grandma and her sisters, it’s the process. The game is just an excuse for them to get together and chat.”
“So why don’t they just get together and chat?”
“Because then Great-granny wouldn’t be included.”
“She’s hardly included now. They move her pieces, they talk around her. All she does is make an occasional grunt.”
Mom smiles at me and kisses my cheek. “You’ll understand when you get older.”
“Yeah, just like I’ll understand the philosophy of Free Parking.”
My mom pauses for a moment. “Some people race through life, Christy. Some people stroll through it. Whatever suits you, suits me. Just remember, whether you walk or run, it doesn’t matter much. The finish line is still death.”
I frowned. “What a morbid thought.”
“Not if you have beautiful children like I do.”
I stare at her. “That isn’t a hint, is it?”
“A hint?”
“You guys kept saying that I should have a baby at twenty-one. They didn’t really mean that, did they?”
“Of course not,” she says. “They were just doing some idle talk.”
“A lot of idle talk.”
My mom kisses me. “Have a little patience, Christy.”
“You sound like Grandma.”
“I am her daughter. Maybe one day you’ll sound like me.”
A scary thought. I say nothing.
“After all, we are four generations of Hathaway women.” She smiles. “And maybe one day, when you’re willing . . . and the Higher Spirit is willing . . . it will be five generations.”
“But not at twenty-one,” I say.
“I agree,” Mom says. “No sense rushing things. Besides, it could all be for naught. You just might have a boy.”
T he
LUCK of
the DRAW
with Rachel Kellerman
and Ilana Kellerman
“The Luck of the Draw” is a sweet story
that was commissioned for the
anthology Mothers and Daughters,
edited by Jill Morgan. It was cowritten
with my daughters, Rachel and Ilana. I
wanted this effort to be a true
collaboration, not my interpretation of
their ideas. To achieve that goal, I had
the girls write from their point of view.
Rachel and Ilana, now young women,
were fifteen and eleven when we wrote
this story, and as I reread their words, I
find them a touching window into
bygone days. What a cherished way to
capture my daughters’ points of view as
children.
Amanda’s Turn
I thought Jack was kidding when he told me the news. But when he pulled the kids out of school, I knew he was serious. He sat them both down to tell them the same thing he had told me. That he had won the lottery.
“Not the big, big money,” he explained. “Five out of six on the Scratchers.”
I was stunned. Jack hadn’t gone into the specifics. Our younger daughter, Beth, clapped her hands and paraded around the room. Our elder daughter, Toni, asked the obvious question.
“How much?”
Jack answered, “The amount isn’t important.”
We looked at him, dumbfounded.
“Well, put it this way. Not enough for me to quit the firm.” He added this with a wink. “But guess who’s going to get her own car on her sixteenth birthday?”
Toni leaped up and hugged him with all her strength. I was happy for her but angry with Jack. Money did not give him the right to make unilateral decisions.
“What about me?” Beth asked.
Jack broke from Toni’s grip. Again out came the wink. “Well, we might splurge on something special for you.”
“Like?”
I said, “No need to go into details right now.” I realized my voice was harsh and softened my tone. “1 need to talk to your father, girls. Right now and alone.”
After they had left, he was peeved. “Look, I realize I should have discussed it with you first. But did you have to cut me off in my moment of glory?”
I said, “How much?”
He was clearly irritated. “Two mil.”
I gasped. Then I did the mental math. Two million amortized over twenty years came out to about one hundred thousand a year. After deducting for taxes, we now had an additional seventy thousand dollars of disposable income.
Yes, we could easily afford a car for Toni. And a new stereo for Beth. And that small speedboat that Jack had been eyeing. And what about redoing the kitchen?
I broke out into laughter. I gave my husband a bear hug.
On weekends the mall was always crowded. But ritual was ritual, and every Saturday my mother, my daughters, and I trekked through the ganglia of stores and tried to bond. Sometimes these excursions were pleasant. Sometimes they were exhausting. Since winning the lottery, those days had become tedious.
Beth was nagging me. “Why can’t I have the dress? We can afford it.”
I counted to ten so I wouldn’t lose my temper.
That seemingly innocuous phrase.
We can afford it.
And then I launched into my standard explanation. “Just because we can afford something doesn’t mean I’m obligated to buy it.”
Beth was now sulking. My mother tried to comfort her, which made me angrier. I tried to contain my ire and be rational. “I bought you clothes a few weeks ago, Beth.”
“But they didn’t have the white dress in my size, Mom. You said you’d buy it for me.”
“I said you could wait and I’d buy it when it arrived in your size. Or, I said, you could have the plaid dress. You chose the plaid dress. End of story!
”
Beth muttered to herself.
I tried to be motherly. “Honey, yesterday I saw a gorgeous suit. It was beautiful and it fit me perfectly. But I didn’t buy it. You know why?”
“Here comes the lecture,” Beth said. “Because it’s not healthy to have everything you want.”
Of course, that shut me up.
“Where’s Toni?” my mother asked.
“She went into her favorite store. She’s looking at some pants.”
“You bought Toni pants last week,” Beth said. “Why does she get pants this week and last week?”
“I bought her a pair of jeans. Today she’s looking at dress pants. Beth, it doesn’t matter what Toni has or what Toni does. We’re not dealing with Toni now, we’re dealing with you. You made your choice, and that’s it!”
“You’re not being—”
“I don’t want to hear this!”
With that, Beth stomped away.
“Where are you going?” I shouted at her.
“I’ll be at Body Beautiful . . . looking at stuff I can’t buy!”
At least she hadn’t added “because my mom isn’t fair.”
My mother tried to he helpful. “They’ll get over it. Things’ll be back to normal. Once they’ve . . . adjusted.”
I turned to my mother, smiling sadly. “Know what, Ma? Every day I thank God that we didn’t hit the big one.”
She laughed, then frowned. Instantly, I spotted the reason behind her wariness. Toni had returned, carrying three separate parcels. She gave me a cat-in-the-canary-cage smile.
Wryly, I said, “That must be one large pair of pants.”
She showed me what she had bought. I told her she’d have to return everything but the pants. She told me I didn’t understand. I said that might be, but she’d still have to take back her purchases.
And then the famous retort.
“We have the money, don’t we?”
At that point I gave my mother the car keys and elected to walk home.
Toni’s Turn
When I was called out of class that Thursday, 1 thought maybe someone had died. Why else would Mom let me miss school? She was uptight about those types of things. But nothing could have prepared me for the news to come.
“We won what?” shrieked Beth, my younger sister.
“Whoa,” I muttered under my breath.
The lottery.
Of course, my parents wouldn’t tell us the specifics, like how much we had actually won. But I was promised a car, so I wasn’t about to stage a protest.
So we had finally come into some money. Not like we were hurting financially, but I knew the money would help us out. Mom was always nervous when it came to money, and I thought the extra cash might put her more at ease. And if she was more relaxed, she’d be more inclined to buy her lovely elder daughter more wonderful tokens of affection.
Yes, this new lifestyle was fine by me.
Later that day I overheard Mom talking to Grandma about the whole thing on the phone.
“Yes, Ma, the lottery. One of those Scratcher tickets . . . No, not all six numbers . . . I know—amazing, isn’t it? Jack has always had good luck, but still, the odds of winning are so low. But you know what’s strange? I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I’m thrilled. Who wouldn’t be thrilled about winning two million dollars . . .”
So that’s how much we had won!
Mom continued, “But I’m kind of worried this will go to everyone’s head. Jack has already promised Toni a car, and Beth thinks we’re millionaires now . . . I know, I know. I just don’t want to spoil them.”
She didn’t want to spoil us? Didn’t want the money to go to our heads? Who cares if it does when it means we can live more comfortably?
But I knew how to plan my course of action. Not to complain, not to ask for a lot. I’d have to work my way up slowly and be excessively grateful. I would show Mom that I was not taking the money for granted. And then she’d realize that the money wasn’t spoiling us. And she could buy us what we wanted with a clear conscience.
I started my plan Saturday at the mall. At first everything went as planned. With much restraint, I picked out only one pair of pants. One. And they weren’t even expensive. Mom seemed pleased.
Good.
A couple of weeks after we had won the money, I was still sticking to my plan.
Beth was a different story. She went psycho when Mom told her no, she couldn’t have another pair of shoes and two dresses.
“But, Mom,” she complained, “it’s not fair. I’ve wanted these dresses for such a long time. Lisa’s mother bought her four outfits last week, and her father didn’t even win the lottery.”
Grandma tried to cover a smile. I knew my actions would look even better next to Beth’s greedy fits.
I separated from everyone to go into one of my favorite stores.
Big mistake number one. Mom had given me her credit card to buy some dress pants.
Big mistake number two. As I looked around, I knew I was losing my self-control.
“Restraint,” I muttered to myself. But everything was so cute—and not that expensive. Besides, we could afford it.
After a while, eight new articles of clothing now officially belonged to me.
I smiled.
Mom did not when she saw what I had bought.
“Toni, I really expected more from you. You’re fifteen. How could you do this?”
She wouldn’t even look at me.
I said, “But you just don’t understand—”
“I do understand,” Mom interrupted. “But maybe you don’t understand the concept of self-discipline. You girls are unappreciative. I never would have acted like this. You’re going to have to go back and return the items.”
Return them? I just couldn’t understand why Mom was being so uptight. I know she didn’t want us to get into the habit of buying everything we wanted, but I thought she could be a little more understanding. I had to say it.
“Mom, I really don’t see why you should care so much. We have the money, don’t we?”
Mom looked exasperated. When she stomped off, I didn’t know what to think.
Beth’s Turn
I guess when I found out we had won the lottery, it made my day. I’m in sixth grade, and that day I had just taken a social studies quiz and a big English grammar test.
I’m the worst at grammar.
Mr. Furling had called me out of class, and I saw Dad. He took me home and told me the big news. We had won the lottery. I didn’t care how much. I paraded around the room. When my dad told Toni, standing for Tonia, that she could buy a car, I thought about my own list of things that I wanted: a pair of Steve Madden shoes, a couple of new dresses, and a CD player with a Spice Girls CD to go along with it.
Even though we had won the lottery, I was still frustrated about the tests I had taken. So when we went shopping and the store didn’t have the beautiful long, slinky white dress in my size, I almost cried. Mom gave me the choice of waiting for the dress in my size or getting a blue-and-white-plaid dress that was half price. I’m not very good at waiting, so I grumpily told my mom that I would take the plaid dress. My sister, Toni, bought a pair of jeans.
A few weeks later, we took another trip to the mall, and I saw the white dress in size ten—my size! It was just my fit, and I could get great use out of it. So I ran over to ask Mom if we could buy it. She said no. At first I kept saying please, please, please.
Then I got so upset that I yelled, “It’s not like we can’t afford it.”
Mom started giving me this whole lecture about how she didn’t buy a suit because she used common sense. Being argumentative, I told her there was no such thing as common sense, because everyone had different genes in their bodies. I also reminded her that she had said she would buy the dress when it came to the store in my size. Mom seemed very agitated, explaining that I had made a choice.
Grandma tried to comfort me, but that didn’t help. Then I star
ted to compare Toni to me. I said that Toni got to buy two pairs of pants, why couldn’t I have two dresses? Mom told me Toni was not my concern.
Tears streamed from my eyes, but I didn’t want Mom to see them. When she asked what was wrong, I told her I was sweating from frustration. I remembered I had five dollars in my pocket and I started to walk away. When Mom asked me where I was going, I screamed that I was going to Body Beautiful to look because I didn’t want to steal any of her precious money.
While I was walking away, I saw Toni coming out of her store carrying three bags.
“You’re crazy,” I said. “Mom won’t allow it.”
Toni just glared at me like all snobby older sisters do and walked away. When I got to Body Beautiful, I bought mango-scented bubble bath. I had earned my five dollars washing the neighbor’s car.
Then the strangest thing happened. I looked out the mall window and saw Mom stomping down the sidewalk. I felt bad for what I had done and decided to give her the bubble bath.
The Solution
I said, “I called this family meeting because something has to be done!”
My daughters stared at their laps with sullen expressions.
I continued, “Winning the lottery doesn’t give you two license to start making demands!”
“So you can continue to be arbitrary,” snapped Toni.
“That’s uncalled for.” Jack leaped to my defense. “Apologize.”
“She is being arbitrary,” Toni insisted. “You both are. One minute you’re both expansive, saying we can afford this and that and taking us out to fancy restaurants. The next minute I find a blouse—on sale, no less—and you won’t buy it for me. Oh, you have enough to afford a hundred-dollar bottle of wine, but I can’t buy a fifteen-dollar blouse.”
Jack said, “What we do with our money is our concern, not yours.”
“Obviously,” Beth retorted.
“You know what I think?” I said. “I think we were doing just great before this lottery business came up. I think we should . . . give it all to charity!”
Jack smiled. “I’ll tell you girls right here and now, if things don’t work out soon, we’re going to give Mom’s idea some real thought.”
The Garden of Eden and Other Criminal Delights Page 26
