Winning Ticket
By Sharon Mikeworth (R)
On
Friday, March 12, 2009, I won the lottery jackpot for $50 million dollars. A cash prize
of $32.4 million. Not an exorbitant amount by today’s standards, especially
after taxes, but still a fortune to me.
On Monday
I still had not told my husband.
I waited
until he had gone to work and the kids were at school, and then drove the hour
and forty-five minutes over to the claims center in Columbia to confirm my
ticket.
By the
time I pulled onto Assembly Street, my nerves were shot and my hands and back
were cramped from hunching over the steering wheel too tightly.
I had
been Mrs. Lanie Markus, married to Jon Markus, for fourteen years, and in that
time he had taken good care of me, and our boys, Kevin and Justin, but it had
always been his money, his sacrifice, with us as his burden, his
responsibility.
I thought
it would probably be fairly easy to keep it from him. Not forever; just for
a little while. The ticket I had bought on impulse had not even been purchased
with his money. It had been my mother’s money sent to me in a birthday card
that had gained me the winning ticket.
Still not
quite believing any of it, I went inside and presented my ticket, politely
requesting to collect my winnings anonymously.
I can’t
say in all truthfulness that I didn’t have visions of new cars and homes and
trips to Paris. But now that I had gotten older, I seemed to notice the passage
of time more keenly, and I felt an almost superstitious fear of this money—of
wasting it, of somehow jinxing it and having it snatched away and lost with
nothing that mattered to show for it. I could barely bring myself to touch it,
and I worried that somehow it would be taken from me, by Jon or because of some
mix-up at the bank, and I kept checking the account to reassure myself that the
money was still there.
I had no
illusions as to how my husband would react to my windfall. We'd had the “If I
won the lottery, I would …” conversation, and Jon had stated the first thing he
would do is quit his job, before launching into a list of cars, boats, houses,
and other material things he would buy, while I had sat thinking about all the
things I would be able to do that I'd never been able to do before. I would be
able to move my mother, who lived on social security, out of that trailer she
lived in. I could help homeless people. I could save the polar bears, or the
rain forest. I would finally be able to help Will and Holly! When I voiced some of these thoughts aloud,
Jon had gently reminded me that our family should be our priority, that
we needed the money for our children’s sake. “It wouldn’t be right to
squander the money on some stranger, or two perfectly capable grown children,
Lanie," he'd said, his tone growing more serious as he continued on about
how he didn't agree with taking away from the family we had to give to my two
grown children, further enabling them to rely on us instead of themselves. This
had been a sore point in our marriage for years. Jon and I had been able to
stay on solid ground financially during our marriage, with a small but adequate
house, but there had never been any real money to spare to help the older kids or it probably would have been more of an issue between us.
I could
see the logic in his argument, and I wasn’t unsympathetic to his point of view,
but he just didn’t understand. Jon had been raised in a normal upper-middle-income family with all the love and support he had needed to get a
decent start in life, worlds away from the childhood my oldest two had endured.
Their father had disappeared early on and rarely sent support payments. It had
been hard, damn hard until I had met and married Jon, but by then it had been
too late for Will and Holly, who had been nearly grown and had left home soon
after.
The day
the money went into the account, I started making plans and putting things into
motion. I did make some small concessions to the huge figure burning a hole in
my account. I purchased some new outfits, which I hid in the closet, and had my
hair cut and colored in light brown with honey streaks. I bought other little
things, too, like new clothes and shoes for the boys and extra groceries that I
didn’t think Jon would pay any attention to. I also tried to take my mother on
a shopping spree, telling her I had a little extra money and would explain it
all to her later, but could only persuade her to get some food and a few little
things she needed. I was able to talk her into letting me hook up satellite TV
for her, though, something I knew she had always wanted but couldn’t afford on
her small social security check.
For weeks
I made arrangements, and finally the day I had been waiting on arrived. I was
geared up and almost giddy with excitement. It was like a burden had been
lifted off of me, and I felt lighter than air, full of promise and hope.
The
minute Jon left for work and the boys boarded the school bus, I sprang into
action. I called and arranged for the next-door neighbor to watch for the kids and keep them until Jon or I got home that evening. I told her I had a family
emergency, which wasn’t far from the truth, as far as I was concerned. After
hanging up with her, I called my daughter.
Holly
answered on the fourth ring right before it rolled to voice mail. “Mom?”
“Hey
baby, how’s it going?”
“Okay, I
guess,” she said, sounding as though she had been crying.
“What’s
wrong?” I asked, knowing it would undoubtedly be something to do with her
deadbeat live-in boyfriend.
“Billy
and I had a fight.” She sniffed, her voice threatening tears again. “And he
didn’t come home last night and he knew I had to be at work this morning. I’ve
been trying and trying to reach him, but as usual he won’t answer his cell
phone. I ended up having to call in sick. Again.”
I usually
held my tongue concerning my daughter’s choice of boyfriend, but no more. This
time I let her know exactly what I thought. “Well you’ve only got the one truck
and since he’s still not working, I think the least he could do is give you,
the ONLY one with a job, a ride to work! Where is he now, the damn bar?” It was
only 11:00 a.m. but I didn't doubt it. “What’d he do, pick a fight so he could
go party?”
“Probably!”
I heard a trace of anger in my daughter’s voice too now, and I was glad.
“Hey,
guess what?” I asked, changing the subject, remembering why I called, and why
this stupid boyfriend no longer mattered.
“What?”
“I won
the lottery.”
“Did
you?” she asked in the same forlorn tone.
“Yeah.
The lottery. I won it.”
“What?”
“I won
the fucking lottery!” I said, and started laughing.
It was as
much my gleeful laughing as my use of the expletive that finally got through to
her. “Mom! What? You won the lottery? How much did you win?”
“Thirty-two
point four million."
“You’re
kidding.”
“No. I am
not. And you can’t tell anybody, not even Jon.”
"No.
You're kidding me."
"I'm
not kidding. And I mean it, don't say anything. I haven't told Jon yet."
“Are you
for real, Mom?” Holly sounded like she feared I had the early
stages of Alzheimer’s. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?”
“Oh, I’m
going to. It’s just that he and I might not exactly see eye to eye on how this
money's going to get spent, and I need to take care of a few things first.”
“You
really won all that money?”
“Yes I
did. And I’m coming down, today. I’m leaving
as soon as I take care of a few things, and I should be there by early this
afternoon. Everything’s going to be all right, Holly.”
“Okay,”
she said, a little bit of despondency creeping back in. I knew. And I
understood completely.
It was
hard to hope.
As soon
as Holly got involved with Billy, he immediately moved my daughter out to the
country two hours away. I’m sure he did it to get her away from me, and anyone
else that cared about her. Since moving her out there he had systematically
alienated her from virtually all her family and friends, and now I suspected he
was abusing her in some way, if only emotionally or verbally.
I pulled
off the highway in Shawea, the last decent-sized town before you get to
Holly’s, and searched through the streets until I found a pawnshop, and pulled
in.
After
looking at several different types of stun guns, tasers, and zap sticks, I
finally bought a 950,000-volt Blast Knuckle stun gun. It fit easily into the
palm of my hand and wrapped around my fingers like brass knuckles. Except when
you hit someone with these, you only had to make contact and press the button.
I
familiarized myself with the stun gun, made sure the safety was on, then put it
back in its holster and slid it into my pocketbook.
The first
thing I saw when I pulled into the dirt drive of the double-wide Billy had
bought and imprisoned my daughter in was his red truck parked slightly skewed
beside the house. It looked like he had slid in drunk. Holly told me he had
once done exactly that, pulled up too fast on wet ground and actually ran into the
trailer and almost knocked it off its cement blocks. I eyed the carelessly parked pickup as I walked up to the front
steps. A drunken Billy did not bode well.
I knocked
loudly, calling out, “It’s me.” I grasped the doorknob and twisted. It was
unlocked, and I pushed open the door and went on in, calling out again as I
moved through the living room and into the kitchen, where Holly was just coming
out of the bedroom that led off of the dining area.
“Hey,”
she said, pulling the door shut behind her. I instantly knew from her
expression that Billy was in there and that she was afraid there was going to
be trouble. My daughter—living in fear.
“Sit
down,” she said, indicating a kitchen chair. “I made some coffee.”
I studied
her as she poured two cups and set them and the sugar bowl and the powdered
creamer on the table. She had lost more weight and her hair hung down lankly
around her face. As she sat down in front of me, I saw her eyes were red where
she had been crying again and that she had on an inordinate amount of makeup.
She usually wore only a little lip-gloss and sometimes some mascara.
As I
stared at her thick makeup, the realization came to me that Billy had hit her.
He had hit her and she was trying to hide it. The little punk had hit my baby
girl who wouldn’t hurt a flea and she was afraid of him.
“He hit
you, didn’t he?” I asked furiously.
“He said
he was sorry. He just drank too much and lost control.” Holly was keeping her
voice low and I knew she was hoping I would do the same. No such luck.
“Get your
stuff, Holly, we’re leaving,” I said, and stood up.
Holly
stood up too just as the bedroom door, where Billy had obviously been standing
and listening, flew open and Billy emerged. He looked belligerently at me, then
at Holly before jerking open the fridge and pulling out a beer. He glared at me
as he twisted the top off and took a swig. He pulled out a chair and sat down
at the table, still staring hard at me, clearly trying to intimidate me.
“What was
that, Mom? You trying to come between me and Hol?” he asked, then
slammed the bottle down, spewing beer out onto the table, causing Holly to
flinch.
My mind
worked furiously. I refused to let this drunken bully get the best of me. I
stepped around Billy and jerked open the refrigerator and got out a beer for
myself. I cracked the top off as I sat back down in front of a clearly
surprised Billy. I took a long, long pull of the beer, knowing I was going need
it, finishing most of it, and slammed it down right beside Billy’s. He jumped
slightly as it banged down, and then incredibly, started laughing as I burped
and wiped my mouth.
“Oh shit,
I didn’t know you had it in ya,” he said. “Holly grab yourself one and get
another one for Lanie here. We’ll just have ourselves a li’l party.”
“No
thanks, I’m done,” I said, and reached into my handbag. I took the stun gun out
of the holster, stuck my fingers in it, and curled my fist around it. Still
keeping it hidden inside my purse, I let it rest in my hand ready. “Holly, get
your stuff. We’re leaving.”
“Mom?”
Holly asked uncertainly.
“She’s
not going NO DAMN WHERE, ya HEAR!” Billy suddenly yelled, erupting, flipping
the table over and flinging beer everywhere. Holly and I jumped back, and I
almost tripped over my chair but managed to hold on to the stun gun as my purse
fell to the floor. Billy hadn’t noticed it yet; he was too busy threatening
Holly as he backed her into a corner, gripping her upper arm viciously.
I
tightened my hold on the stun knuckles and pushed off the safety. “Get your
hands off my daughter!” I yelled. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder
and spun him around.
Billy
released my daughter and lunged for me, veins standing out in his neck as he
came at me. Instinctively I raised my left arm to protect my face while
bringing the stun gun up and driving myself forward. I held it against him and
pressed the button. For a second Billy seemed to freeze and then he was down,
the sound of the arc resounding in the small kitchen as Holly screamed and
Billy jerked on the floor.
I pushed
the safety back on and dropped it into my purse. “It’s okay, Holly. He’s not
going to die. I just stunned him.” Then I picked up her phone and called the
police.
I had
righted the table and Billy was starting to recover by the time the police car
came squealing into the driveway. Holly let the two cops in and they followed
her back into the kitchen, where a sullen Billy was sitting on the floor
propped up against the kitchen cabinets and I was sitting calmly at the table.
“What
happened here, ma'am?” The younger policeman asked, looking from Billy to me.
“What did you do to him?”
“He’s
drunk. He was threatening my daughter. He's already hurt her once, just look at
her face, and he was about to do it again. I told him to get his hands off of
her and then he came at me. So I stunned him and called you.”
The other
policeman walked over to Holly and tilted her face up to the light of the
window to get a better look.
“Here,”
Holly said, and reached over and grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and wiped some
of the makeup off, wincing in pain. As soon as the policeman saw the large
purple bruise around her eye, and the angry red marks on her arm, he turned
around and jerked Billy to his feet and handcuffed him. He was still reading
him his rights as he led him out to the squad car.
The other
one stayed behind to gather more information, and I talked to him about a
restraining order, and then he followed the other one out, and they finally
left.
“He’ll
come back. Even with a restraining order, he’ll come back.” Holly’s tears had
dried up, but she was still shaking a little.
“Do you want
him to come back?”
Holly
hesitated, reaching up and feeling her puffy eye. “No,” she said, then again,
firmer, “NO.”
“Well
then, we’ll leave. Pack your stuff, baby girl, we’re out of here.”
“And
where am I gonna go exactly? There’s no room at your house.”
“You just
let me worry about that.”
After
safely ensconcing Holly in a suite complete with room service in the nicest
hotel I could find close by, I set about helping her arrange for movers to pack
up her stuff and place it in a temporary storage facility until she could get
things figured out, then gave her some cash to tide her over and the debit card
I had arranged for her, with strict instructions to go out and purchase a new
car the next day so she could return Billy’s truck, which she had appropriated.
“I love
you. I’ll be in touch, and call if you need me,” I said, and hugged her
goodbye.
I waved
one last time to a slightly shell-shocked but smiling Holly and drove away.
I felt
mentally exhausted from all the drama with Holly, and the beer I had chugged
had left me with a nagging headache. I decided to stop for some coffee and a
sandwich. I got off the interstate, ignored the Ruby Tuesday and Applebee's I passed, and stopped instead at a small diner that looked like it had been
converted from an old carhop restaurant. Through the window I could see the
place was filled with an older crowd, mostly black, with a few whites thrown
in. Since obviously no one was going to come riding up on skates, I got out and
went in.
I stopped
just inside the door, and for a moment the place went still as everyone
collectively paused and looked over at me. Then a plump black woman came around
and led me to a table in the back, and everyone went back to their food and resumed
talking. She had a kind face and smiled as she offered me coffee. I accepted
gratefully and dug two aspirins out of my purse and swallowed them with a large
gulp of the hot coffee.
I ended
up ordering breakfast, which they served all day. When the ham and eggs came, I
found them delicious. So were the hot biscuits she brought out a minute later
with pats of real butter and an assortment of jams. The ham was tender and the
eggs cooked perfectly.
I was
nibbling on a jelly biscuit and enjoying my last cup of coffee when she brought
the check. I contemplated how I was going to tip her like I wanted to. If I put
it on my card, I was afraid she would never get it, and there was no way I was
going to leave it on the table. I would just have to pay and then slip her the
money on the way out.
I got up
and made my way over to the register, keeping my eye on the waitress. As I
paid, I saw her walk over to the table and then turn away looking disappointed,
probably thinking she had been stiffed.
After
getting my receipt, I dug out ten of the hundred-dollar bills I had on me,
then impulsively added five more, and folded them up together.
I caught
her in the back, near the restrooms. “Here, I had to get change for your tip,”
I said, smiling as I handed her the folded up money.
“Oh, well
thank you,” she said, and dropped it into her apron pocket without looking at
it. I was still smiling as I walked out. She was in for a surprise.
She came
running out as I was backing up, waving to get my attention. I lowered my window.
“You made
a mistake! You gave me these by mistake,” she said as she came up to my door,
holding out the bills.
“No
mistake,” I said, ignoring the outstretched money.
“But it’s
fi'teen hundred dollars!”
“That’s
right, and it’s for you. Have a good day,” I said, and shifted into Drive. Her
mouth fell open. She finally managed to close it, and yelled, “THANK YOOUU!” as I
drove out of the parking lot.
Feeling
energized, I drove the rest of the way to my son’s place, about thirty miles up the interstate. This was the thing I had been worrying about the
most. He and I had not talked much over the past year. The last time I saw him
it had ended up in a vicious argument, with horrible things being said. The
argument had been between Will and Jon. Will had gotten into a bit of a
financial jam, nothing too serious, just some unexpected repairs needed on the
truck he worked out of, and he wanted a small loan. For years my son had tried to work for himself. He
painted, doing both interior and exterior work for private homes and hotels. He
had just been waiting to get paid for his last big job and only needed to borrow until the money came in. I was willing to rearrange a bill or
two until he paid me back to help him out, but Jon had stepped in saying
anything could happen and we wouldn’t get the money back. He had gone on to say
that it was Will’s fault anyway for not having a real job and a savings account
for emergencies like this. It had hurt and angered Will, and he had not been
back to my house since. He ended up having to borrow at an exorbitant rate to
get his truck fixed, and the last I had heard he was still struggling to pay it
back and in worse shape than ever.
As I
parked in front of the dilapidated house my son had rented, I felt like I had
failed my son. What chance had he ever really had?
His truck
wasn’t there, so he was probably still working. I walked across the tiny lawn
to the front porch, mounted the steps, and knocked on the door.
I was
hoping that his current live-in girlfriend would be home to let me in so I could
wait on Will.
I saw the curtain move slightly in the window to my left. I
waited on her to open the door and was just about to knock again when she
finally cracked it open.
Alicia
peered out at me, opening the door only a fraction wider. “Oh, hey Lanie,
Will’s not home,” she said, holding firmly to the door. Was she not going to
let me in?
“Yes,
well, I thought I would wait on him, it’s kind of important.”
She
looked at me uncertainly, then said, “It could be a while, I don’t know when
he’s coming home.”
She
definitely wasn’t inviting me in. I couldn’t believe the nerve of this girl.
“All
right then,” I said. I turned around to sit on the porch steps until he got
home and heard the door shut behind me before I could even lower myself down.
I dug out
my cell phone and dialed Will’s number, hoping it hadn’t changed. It rang and
rang on the other end, and then Will picked up. There was a lot of noise in the
background. I had caught him at work. “HELLO?” he yelled again.
“Hey
Will, it’s Mom.”
“WHO?"
I moved
off of the porch around to the side. “IT’S ME, YOUR MOTHER,” I yelled back.
“OH, HOLD
ON … LET ME TURN THIS OFF.” The background noise dropped drastically and then
he was back on the phone. “Okay. What’s up, Mom?”
He didn’t
exactly sound happy to hear from me. I plowed ahead anyway. “I’m at your
house."
“You
are?”
“Yeah,
well I wanted to talk to you. When are you stopping?”
“I can
leave right now if you need me to.”
“I do.
I’m sitting on your porch here,” I said, laughing a little.
“Oh,
well, Alicia should be there. She can let you in until I get there. I'm just
right down the road." His voice became muffled for a moment as he spoke to
someone in the background, and then he was back on the line, sounding more like
himself. "I was ready to leave anyway. I’m starving! Alicia made a bunch
of sloppy joes last night and that’s all I’ve been able to think about for the
last hour or so. I was just about to come home and chow down on some
leftovers."
“Okay,
I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
He pulled
up a few minutes later, driving the same old beat-up truck. He got out,
splattered in paint, looking dirty and tired, but smiling.
“What are
you doing still sitting there? Why didn’t you go in?”
“Uh …
well … she didn’t exactly invite me in.”
“What the
hell?” The smile disappeared from his face.
“Well,
she did say that you might not be home for a while.”
I stayed
on the porch as he pushed open the front door, then followed him as he
impatiently waved me in behind him. “Come on in.”
I stepped
into the living room, trying not to cringe at the mess. There was no sign
of Alicia. Will leaned over and hollered up the stairs that led to the master
bedroom and bath, “ALICIA!”
I moved
some of what looked like Alicia's clothes off the couch and sat down.
“Man, I’m
starving, just let me grab something real quick to hold me. Here’s the remote,
turn something on if you want. You want a sloppy joe?” he asked as he headed
into the kitchen.
I didn’t
get a chance to answer him before I heard him stop in his tracks on the other
side of the doorway. “God damnit!” he exclaimed, his voice low and
furious.
“God damn
it,” he said again and this time the despair in it got me up off the couch and
into the kitchen. Will stood staring at the stove, where a large uncovered
frying pan sat, containing what looked like congealed sloppy joe meat. There
was also an open bag of buns sitting on the counter along with a jar of mustard
and some hot sauce.
The leftovers had never been put up the night before. In fact, the kitchen had not
been cleaned at all in God knew how long. It was filthy, with dishes stacked in
the sink and on the counter, and trash piled by the back door.
Alicia
chose that moment to come downstairs, and Will lit into her. “Why didn’t you
put supper up last night? You said you would. I had to go to bed early for
work!"
Alicia
stared back at him, eyes wide.
"What
am I supposed to eat now?" When no answer seemed forthcoming, he sighed in disgust and went to turn away.
“Well,
that’s probably okay, I can heat it up …” she started tentatively, and Will rounded
on her. “Are you crazy? It sat out all night and all day! Do you want to kill me with food poisoning?”
With
that, he seemed to lose all steam and flopped down onto the couch with an
aggravated sigh and put his head in his hands. After a moment, he pulled out a
crinkled cigarette pack, found it empty, and threw it down on the coffee table.
I stared
at Alicia in horror as she slowly walked out of the room and back up the
stairs.
“Son,” I
said, “I’ll buy you something to eat. Let’s go and get something.”
“Five
pounds of hamburger meat. Five pounds wasted. I tried to tell her that if she
buys larger packs of meat she can get it on sale, but then she never divides it
up. And now this. She just wasted it. We barely have any money for food as it
is.”
“Let’s
go,” I said, louder. "I need to talk to you anyway, and I think we should get out of here for a while.”
“Mom, I
haven’t even had a shower.”
“That’s
all right. Let’s just go, okay? Please? I need to talk to you and I don't want
to do it here.”
This
finally convinced him and he stood up, looking at me curiously as he followed
me out.
I drove
first to the store to buy him some cigarettes. It was a nasty habit that I had
quit myself years ago, but I wasn’t here to judge. If a cigarette got him
through the day, then fine. I could only hope that he would eventually quit as
I had. I got out without saying a word and went in and bought him a carton of
Marlboro’s, a lighter, and a candy bar, and brought it back out to him.
His eyes
lit up. “Wow Mom, for me?”
“Yes, and
that’s just to start.”
I drove
over to a nearby Arby’s and ordered two large drinks and a ridiculous amount of
food, then searched for a place for us to eat and talk, while Will attacked the
fries.
I finally
pulled into a small community park that Will pointed out, and we got out and
sat down at one of the picnic tables. I waited on him to finish eating and
light up a smoke before I began.
“If you
had the money to do anything you wanted, what would you do?”
“You know
I want to run my own company. I’d expand, buy a couple of trucks, new
equipment, hire some help … pay all the people I owe.” He laughed. “Find a
decent girl, get married, buy a house, have kids … that’s all,” he said, and
laughed again. His face sobered after a
moment. “I’m just so tired of struggling and never getting anywhere. Somehow, I
never saw my life turning out this way.”
“I didn’t
either.”
“What did
you want to talk to me about?”
“Hang
on." I climbed out of the picnic table and walked over to my SUV and
retrieved my pocketbook.
Sitting
back down across from him, I drew out his bank card and gently dropped it on
the table in front of him.
He leaned
forward and peered at it. His eyebrows went up as he read his own name on the
card. “What’s this?”
“Yours,”
I said, grinning.
“Mine?”
I decided
to stop torturing him. I loved him so much, and I was so sorry that I had not
been able to give him the start in life that he deserved. My eyes teared up a
little, and I said a little silent prayer of thanks for this incredible gift.
“I won
the lottery, son,” I said, my voice thick.
He
instantly believed me. He could tell from my demeanor that this was no joke. He
looked back down at the card.
“There’s
five hundred thousand in your account right now, and then we’ll go from there.”
“Oh my
GOD, Mom,” he said, still ogling the bank card in front of him, trying to take
it all in. “What about Jon?”
“He
doesn’t even know I won the money. Yet. But I have to tell him soon. So make
it worth it, okay?”
“You
don’t even have to say it.” The reality of the situation was starting to hit
him and he began to smile, and then to laugh out loud.
“What the
hell am I gonna do about Alicia?”
I grinned
back at him. “I’ll let you figure that one out.”
I left
Will’s happier than I had been in a long time. Holly and Will were taken care
of, and I had already arranged generous college and trust funds for Kevin and Justin, and started a retirement account for Jon and I.
Now it
was time to have some fun.
I looked
at my watch. It was nearly 7:00. The kids had already been home from school for
several hours now, and Jon had to be wondering what was going on. As if on cue,
my cell phone rang. I picked it up, saw it was Jon, and laid it back down. I
wasn’t ready to talk to him yet. As Ricky Ricardo would have said, I had some
'splaining to do, and I wasn’t quite finished with everything.
At first
I drove around aimlessly, trying to figure out how I was going to accomplish
what I wanted to do. I drove to the mall and then pulled back off again,
realizing that anyone who was at the mall probably didn’t need any money, or
they wouldn’t be at the mall. A few miles out of town, I passed a
trailer park, and realized it was perfect. I turned around in a convenience
store parking lot and drove back. At the entrance, I parked beside the large
bank of mailboxes and pulled out some of the envelopes of money I had gotten
ready the day before. Each plain white envelope contained ten thousand dollars
and an anonymous note that said, “Just a little help from someone who
cares." I lowered my window and slid an envelope into all ten mail-slots.
Next, I
drove back toward the downtown area and immediately spotted another likely
recipient: an older white man, probably in his early fifties, wearing a sign
that said “Will work for food,” his longish, graying black hair blowing in the
cold wind. He was wearing loose torn jeans and a fatigue jacket. In an effort
to stay warm he was stamping his feet and shifting from one foot to the other.
I pulled up and parked at a safe distance, watching him. He was staying close
to the red lights, keeping an eye on the cars as they came to a stop, but
making no move toward them.
I turned
down the ringer volume on my phone, climbed out and stood there for a moment,
gathering my courage, then started toward him. Weary resignation and a sort of
hard dignity settled on the man's face as the woman in the car that had just
pulled up beside him hurriedly slammed down the locks on her doors.
He became
aware of my presence and turned to face me. I stopped in front of him, scanning
the nearby establishments.
“Want
some coffee?” I asked, turning back to him and studying him some more. He
needed to shave, but didn’t smell; that was a plus, and his eyes and the way he
regarded me seemed aware, so he probably wasn't crazy. So what had landed him
in this situation? Was he trying to con people? Somehow I didn’t think so. If he is, he isn’t doing a very good job
of it, I thought as I took in his worn jeans and boots repaired with duct
tape.
“Sure,”
he said after a moment, with a why not, what have I got to lose? expression.
“Want to
take off the sign?”
“Yeah.”
He pulled his head through the sign then looked around for somewhere to stash
it and finally placed it behind a nearby trash can.
We
strolled down the sidewalk, an unlikely pair, a well-dressed youngish woman and
an obviously homeless older man. After a bit, he fell slightly behind, and I
slowed down and waited on him to catch up. As he walked up beside me he paused
for a moment, and then did the most remarkable thing. He stuck out his elbow
and offered me his arm. I took it and felt unexpected tears prick my eyes.
We walked
arm and arm all the way up to the Starbucks stand a couple of blocks away,
neither of us speaking.
I ordered
us two tall café au laits. After handing him his, I moved over to a nearby
bench and motioned for him to sit down beside me. We sat sipping our coffee and
steamed milk in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then I asked him.
“So what
happened?”
He gave a
small shake of his head. “Does it really matter?”
I thought
about it. “No, I guess not."
He turned
toward me. “Thank you for the coffee,” he said, and started to rise. I grasped
his arm and gently held him back.
“Please
wait,” I said. “I want to help.” I dug into my purse and pulled out two of the
larger envelopes. “Here,” I said, thrusting them into his hands. “Be careful, I
don’t want you robbed.”
His
eyebrows shot up in surprise as he glanced into one of the envelopes and saw
the money.
“It’s
twenty thousand. Don’t worry, I didn’t rob anyone,” I said with a laugh. “I won
a little in the lottery.”
“Please
take it,” I said as he sat blinking at the money. Finally he carefully folded
the envelopes and slid them into the front pocket of his jacket.
“Thank
you,” he said, then picked up my hand and held it for a moment. “Thank you,” he
said again—gratitude, awe, and the very beginnings of hope all held in that one
gesture.
I stood
up and he stood up too, and insisted on walking me back to my car. Looking a
little dazed but smiling, the man stood to the side and watched me
as I got in my car and drove away.
Once I
was safely back on the road, I glanced at my phone and saw Jon had called
again. It was getting late, and I knew he was probably worried. I needed to get
a move on. I was determined to do what I had sat out to do, and I wasn’t going
home until I gave out all of the money I had brought.
I drove
to Walmart, a place I knew well. I would be able to get rid of the rest of the
envelopes there, and then I could go home and finally tell Jon. I knew he would
be ecstatic at finally being able to quit the job he hated so much.
I grabbed
a buggy and took off through the store. I threw things in as I went along,
watching people and trying to figure out how to give away the money without
calling attention to myself.
In
electronics I bought a laptop with wireless Internet for Kevin, and an Xbox360
for Justin along with several games. The young salesclerk that rang me up was
lackadaisical and borderline rude about it, so “no funds for you” I
thought in the Soup Nazi's accent from Seinfeld, which made me snort
aloud and caused him to slow down even further as he was interrupted out of his
complete boredom.
I moved
over to the televisions, and after requesting help from someone else, managed
to arrange for a 40-inch LCD set for Jon to be brought up when I checked out.
My phone,
which I'd turned the volume up on, rang, and it was Jon again. I ignored it,
telling myself this was the last time. Then I listened to my messages just to
make sure nothing was wrong, and turned the volume back down again and
stored it in my purse.
I moved
over to the food section where things were calmer and started going up and down
the grocery aisles. There weren’t many people out this late, and I had to go
down two aisles before I ran into a woman shopping with two older children. The boy and the girl walked behind the tired-looking mother, their eyes on the
floor, not even looking at the shelves. I glanced in their buggy as I pulled up
alongside it. Bologna, bread, soup, cereal, milk, Hamburger Helper, hot dogs,
box macaroni, almost all of it the cheaper store brand. There were no snacks,
and apparently from the looks of the children, no hope for any. These poor people
were barely eating.
I fumbled
in my pocketbook for one of the larger envelopes and finally got it out as she
started moving on. “Wait!” I called after her, and she turned around, looking puzzled.
I didn’t
know how to do this. So I just did it. “Here,” I said, and thrust one of the
last large envelopes at her. She made no move to take it. “What? What is it?”
she said, backing off and starting to turn away.
“I won
the lottery,” I said. She stopped in her tracks and turned back around. I
glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was behind me. “I won the lottery
and I just want to help a young family, that’s all. Please take it. I won’t
even miss it." I smiled and held the envelope out again.
This time
she took it. She backed up, still looking at me a little suspiciously, and
opened it. Her eyes widened as she looked inside.
“Ten
thousand,” I said, and she looked up at me in stunned disbelief. “I hope it
helps.”
She
finally found her voice as I started away from them. “Thank you,” she called
after me. “Oh my God, thank you so much!”
I looked
back as I rounded the corner and saw the kids throwing cookies in the buggy,
their faces excited and happy.
I was
standing in the wine section looking over the large selection when a young
couple turned down the aisle I was on. I only glanced over for a second, but it
was enough to tell me that they had been arguing. The young man had a
long-suffering, obstinate look on his face, and hers was white with distress
and she looked as though she had been crying. I saw she was wearing a wedding
band as she came up beside me to look at the wine, so they were
married—probably just long enough to get past the honeymoon stage. As she
turned to place the chardonnay she had chosen into the buggy, the man-boy
rolled his eyes and quickly pushed the cart on past, ignoring her as he moved
over to the beer. Face pink with embarrassment, she placed the bottle back on
the shelf and trudged after him. I decided to follow them, unobtrusively, of
course. I maneuvered my buggy around and managed to "accidentally" run across
them several times. But it wasn’t until her husband rejected a
ninety-eight-cent can of air freshener that I decided to take action. I pulled
out the last envelope containing $10,000 and quickly wrote on it, “This is from
me, an anonymous benefactor, to YOU, and if you are wise, you won’t tell him
you have it. And no I’m not crazy, I just won the lottery.” Then I openly
stalked them until the husband had moved up ahead and she was alone, and
quickly caught up with her, stuffed the envelope into the open side of her
pocketbook, and kept walking.
“What
the….” I heard behind me. I turned around and held my finger up to my lips and
pointed at her husband. She looked down and read my note, then looked at the
money inside. Her eyes widened. Goggling at me, she stood stock-still for a
long moment in disbelief. Then her gaze shifted from me to her husband's back then to me again, and she finally managed to close her mouth. Are you really
giving me this money? her face asked, and I smiled and nodded. Shooting another look at her husband, she
stuck the money back inside her purse and zipped it closed.
That this
was really happening was starting to sink in now, and as she drew abreast of
me, a smile was slowly dawning across her face, transforming it, and I saw how
pretty she really was. Keeping an eye on her husband, she reached out and gave
my shoulder a quick squeeze. “Thank you," she whispered, "you don’t
know what this means to me.” She looked at me full-on for a second, her
expression almost fierce. "Thank you so much." And then
she was gone.
I whirled
around—time was getting away from me and I needed to check out. I headed to the
front of the store and systematically started giving out the remaining smaller
envelopes of $5,000. I gave them to the cashiers, simply getting in line,
handing it to them saying, “This is for you, I hope it does some good,” then
moving on to the next one.
I gave
away all but one this way and was hurrying to a far register to check out, when
Jon showed up. He came through the doors and started toward me as I headed for
the next open register.
He
blanched as the boy brought the LCD television over and then stood behind me
looking horrified at everything I was buying.
Trying to
ignore the increasingly loud commotion behind me from the cashiers as they
realized what they had been handed, I quickly paid. As we were leaving, I
handed the very last envelope to the little old lady manning the door, thanked
her, and we continued on out.
Jon
waited until the television was loaded into my SUV, then finally spoke, “What
the hell’s going on, Lanie?”
“I can
explain,” I said, and got in the driver's seat. Jon climbed into the passenger
side.
“How did
you know where I was?” I asked.
“I came
in to get something Justin needed for his school project,” he answered shortly
as he looked at me narrowly, clearly starting to lose patience.
“I won
the lottery,” I blurted out.
“You won
the lottery,” he repeated.
“Yes, and
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I was going to. Tonight. Then …” I stopped at the
look on his face. It wasn’t the furious look I had expected; it was more a
vulnerable, frightened look.
“Are you
leaving me?”
“NO!"
I reached over and grabbed his hand. "But I've never had anything that was
mine. Just mine to do with as I pleased. I wasn’t going to keep it from you
forever. I really was going to tell you tonight. I just needed to take care of
a few things first.”
“Like
what?” he asked, as though he couldn't wait to hear what I had blown all the
money on.
I started
with the parts he wouldn’t object to first. “I set up college funds for Kevin and Justin.”
“Good,”
he said.
“I set up
a retirement account for you and me."
“Also
good.”
“And I
gave away a little here and there, not that much, and I helped Will and Holly.”
I said the last part all in a rush.
His
features tightened. “How much did you spend?”
“Not that
much. Only a few million.”
“WHAT? For
God's sake, Holly, how much did you win? Is there anything left?”
“I did
buy the LCD TV for you.” A small part of me was definitely enjoying this.
“HOW MUCH
DID YOU WIN?” he shouted.
“I won …
thirty-two million.” I began to laugh at the comical expression on
his face.
"No
way."
"Yes
way.
“Are you
serious? We have thirty million dollars?”
“Well, less the taxes.”
“But we're
rich?”
“YES.”
“I’m
quitting my job.”
“Of
course you are. And I’m moving my mother out of that trailer.”
“Of
course you are,” he said, and we both laughed a little hysterically.
“I love
you, Jon”
“I love
you too, Lanie.”
Through
the years Jon became my check and I became his balance as he made his
investments and bought things and I gave donations to the occasional good
cause, and somehow we managed to keep from losing everything like so many do.
I did
indeed move my mother into a house (and supplied her with a monthly allowance)
and she has never been happier. Holly went on to college and eventually became
a psychologist, specializing in abusive relationships. Will's business took off
and he eventually married a wonderful woman, and even gets along better with
Jon now.
But after
all the years, after all the family celebrations, cruises, trips abroad, and even
after Holly's graduation and Will's marriage, the day that stands out at me,
the day I will never forget, is the day I gave away all that money.
March 2009