The Lottery

Stephen Griffin

English Comp.

4/4/11

Journal #7

“You’ve just won the lottery.  What are you going to do with it?  How does it affect what you wrote in journal prompt #6?”

  My daughter‘s birthday intertwined with a few other numbers that just so happen to come to mind, find their home on a piece of paper.  I consider all these numbers to be lucky or I just convince myself that they are.  I hear that the lottery requires luck.  “I never win anything”, I tell myself.  Perhaps it’s a way of coping with a piss poor attitude or maybe it’s my way of never having to take the risk of being let down.   I’ve become expectant of mediocre; a habit I’m learning to break.  Sure, Mackenzie is the best thing to happen to me in a long time.  She‘s something that I wasn’t sure would ever find my little world again.  But winning the lottery just seems to be something that is out of my control.  Anything out of my control translates in my brain as “impossible”.  Mackenzie and I have learned to live below our means.  The great thing about our relationship is that money isn’t a factor; it’s not needed to improve what we already have.  Still, we understand that it’s something that’s required to function in this world, so we comply.  However, money these days isn’t very easy to come by.  Everything cost so much.  Bills seem to wash ashore at our feet and flood our lives until we gasp for our last few breaths of air before we finally scream at the top of our lungs “ENOUGH!”  Call it a desperate attempt at a solution, a shot in the dark as they say or maybe, just maybe I actually believe that I have a chance.  I walk out of the store, a piece of paper in hand; lucky numbers fill its void.  The thought “what if?” makes its way from one side of my brain to the other - “what if?”.

  I’m driving home and I’m wondering; “after so many years of non participation, why did I finally decide to purchase a lottery ticket?  I should’ve just bought a Snickers Bar instead.  The delicious taste of a Snickers Bar is worth a million bucks anyways.”  I shrug it off; telling myself, “Mackenzie is all over you about eating healthier, Stephen.  You eat like a five year old.  Forget about the Snickers Bar.  She’ll be less upset about the lottery ticket than she would be if you bought the Snickers Bar.”  “What the hell?  No big deal”, I tell myself as I pull into the driveway.  “Mackenzie won’t be mad at me, I’m sure of that.  I never do anything like this and I know money is tight” I mutter, making myself feel better.  Nevertheless, I step out of the car, close the door, empty out the mailbox full of the latest debt and stash the ticket in my back pocket.  Mackenzie is already home and as I venture forth to the front door I begin to detect the smell of my favorite meal, spaghetti and garlic bread.  I enthusiastically make my way up the front steps.  Reaching the last step, I pause and look through the window as I usually do when I get home from work.  I see the most beautiful woman in the world in “my” kitchen, in “my” house.  Staring through the window in disbelief I ask myself, “what did I do to deserve this?”.   I walk through the front door, place my keys and wallet on the dining room table; subconsciously careful to leave the ticket in my back pocket.  With a smile on my face, I waltz into the kitchen to lend a hand with dinner.  First things first though; I maneuver into position, wrap my arms around her waist, burry my face into her free-falling hair and breathe in the wonderful impossibility that this beautiful woman is in my life.  She smiles, and if not a single syllable escapes her lips, if not a hand of hers finds comfort within the embrace of my hand for the entirety of the evening, that smile will have whispered a thousand words and lain a million soft touches upon my skin.  “A million?” nonchalantly escapes the vault of my brain and verbally manifest it self.  Mackenzie turns and stares at me in confusion.  The confusion is justified.  “Um….I need to check a couple things before dinner, if you don’t mind.  Business….yes, business.  No big deal.  I’ll be right back” I stutter profusely.  Clumsily backing out of the kitchen, I maintain the sporadic, incomplete sentences until I’m stepping into the hallway and retreating to another room.  The confusion never leaves her face.

  Safely tucked away in another room of the house, I remove the ticket wrapped in the store receipt from my pocket as if it were a “Wonka Bar”.  “Oh…give me a break.  This is ridiculous.  I want a Snickers Bar!”  These words formulate in my brain and begin to have their effect as they roll off of my tongue.  Here I am again being expectant of mediocre.  I make myself coral my emotions and regain composure.  I begin to force positive thoughts through my veins, “It’s just one ticket, it’s just for fun and I’ll never do it again.  Besides, I could actually win.  But I probably won’t.  Oh, stop it!”  I turn on the television and wait for every single number other than the ones that I’ve chosen to be called.  I prepare myself to spend the rest of the night mentally lashing myself for not buying the delicious Snickers Bar.  I hear a voice begin to call out numbers.  I pause and the world follows suit. “2.…2.…8...0.…”, my breathing begins to quicken its pace.  In an astonishing miracle of epic proportions, the remaining numbers that in a particular sequential way are a perfect match to the numbers filling the void of my ticket are called off one by one sending my body into shock and a temporary coma.  I am awakened by the smell of garlic bread and spaghetti.  My eyes focus on the same confused stare constructed upon the face of Mackenzie as the one I left her with just a short while ago in the kitchen.  I struggle to lift my head off the floor; eyelids barely open, “Well Mackenzie, I’m very content with my decision to not buy the Snickers Bar.”  The confusion on Mackenzie’s face, yet again, is justified.   

  One month later I’m standing in a two story home.  Beside me stands my wonderful impossibility, Mackenzie.  “We’ll take it!” echoes off the vaulted ceilings and wooden floors, piecing a smile on the realtor’s face.  Months, followed by years pass and I stop at the same store that I purchased my winning lottery ticket.  I’ve never bought another ticket since that day and I wouldn’t on this day either.  I guess I didn’t feel as though I needed to I suppose and probably never would again.  I leave the store with three Snickers Bars.  I pull into the driveway, already having consumed two of the three Snickers Bars that I purchased.  This has become a habit and Mackenzie isn’t a fan of my new addiction.  “It could be worse,” I always tell her.  Nevertheless, I step out of the car, close the door, empty out the mailbox full of the latest bank account statements reminding me that we’re insanely rich and inconspicuously stash the last Snickers Bar in my back pocket.  As I venture forth to the front door I begin to detect the smell of my favorite meal, spaghetti and garlic bread.  I pause and stare through the front window of our new house as I usually do.  I see the most beautiful woman in the world.  As I stand on that top step, peering in through the window, memories of the day Mackenzie and I met in the park begin to materialize.  The images dance around Mackenzie as she goes about preparing dinner in the kitchen, forming a glow of peace and content that draws me to her.  Money isn’t something that was needed to improve what we already had.  I was already the richest, luckiest man in the world.  Sure, we understand that money is needed to function in this world, so we comply.  But as I stare into that window, I know without a shadow of a doubt that everything I need in this world lives within her.  I walk through the door, place my keys and wallet on the dining room table; subconsciously careful to leave the delicious Snickers Bar in my back pocket.  I wrap my arms around her waist, burry my face into her free-falling hair and breathe in the sweet impossibility that this beautiful woman is in my life.  “Sweet?” I nonchalantly whisper with a smile stretched across my face from ear to ear.  Mackenzie turns with a familiar confused stare on her face.  “Is there something in your back pocket?” she asks me with an inquisitive, stern tone of voice.  The gig is up.  I slowly back away; sporadic, incomplete sentences echoing off the vaulted ceilings and wooden floors, “I have a few things to attend to.  Business…yeah, business.  No big deal.”   Continuing with her inquisitive, stern tone of voice “, Stephen Michael!  Did you buy ANOTHER Snickers Bar?”  I nervously laugh, but with confidence reply “No.  Of course not,” as I continue my retreat.  I make a break for it.  She gives chase screaming “, Stephen you are going to RUIN your heart eating those damn things every day!”  “Mackenzie, it’s no big deal.  We can afford a new one!”   

The materialistic possessions of this world pale in comparison to the wonderful impossibility of real love.  - Stephen Griffin -