The Lottery

by D. K. Wall

  Hank stepped up to the passenger side of the van and signaled with a crank of his hand to roll down the window. Nathan complied, and the bigger man leaned in. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just wanted to see how Donna was doing.”

  “Pretty rough, thanks to you. Cracked ribs taped up and some potent pain meds are kicking in. I need to get her home so she can rest.” Hank patted her hand hooked around his elbow.

  “Donna, I’m really sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Tears flowed down her face as sobs overcame her. Nathan opened the door to comfort her, but Hank shoved it closed again. He kept his grip on the door as he turned to his brother and asked him to get her settled in his car. With Matt’s support, she ambled back toward their car.

  Once she was settled, Hank turned his attention back to Nathan. “Thought you would be sitting in jail all weekend.”

  “Bail.”

  “You need to stop stalking Donna, or we’ll call the cops.”

  “I wasn’t stalking. I just wanted to make sure she was okay. If Matt hadn’t seen us, you would never have known we were here.”

  “She’ll be fine if you leave her alone. Don’t go near her again, do you understand?” Hank’s hand drifted up to his face and rubbed the metal plate. “You won’t get the drop on me next time. Don’t even think about going near the house because I’ll be keeping an eye out, so stay away.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m sleeping at Danny’s until things calm down.”

  Hank leaned against the side-view mirror. “You aren’t hearing me. I mean don’t go near her ever again. You’ll be served with divorce papers next week.”

  Nathan’s chest tightened, and his breath caught. He knew the marriage was over the second he’d found them earlier in the day, but hearing the word aloud was painful. “I understand. We’ll get to all that, but we have to talk to figure it out.”

  Running his hand though his hair, Hank glanced back over at Donna in the back of Matt’s car. He refocused his blue eyes sternly on Nathan and spoke quietly, keeping his voice from carrying across the parking lot. “She isn’t divorcing you because of today. This isn’t some rash decision. We met with an attorney two weeks ago. The divorce papers are already drawn up and ready to be served. Donna was just trying to find a way to tell you as gently as she could.”

  Numbness crept down Nathan’s body. His tongue felt thick and bloated, strangling his ability to speak. “Two weeks ago?”

  “We’ve been talking about it for a while. You need to understand this was coming even if you hadn’t walked in on us today. But now that you know, no reason to delay any more.”

  Nathan tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. “How long have you two…?”

  “It’s been months, Nate, since before Halloween. She stopped by Matty’s to pick up Jake after school. She had some temp job, and Colette had agreed to watch the boys. I just happened to be there, nothing planned, but we started chatting. Catching up on old times. Neither one of us meant anything else, but we talked until she was almost late getting home before you did. But that rekindled things.”

  “Rekindled?”

  Hank glanced back toward the car. Donna was settled in the backseat, the door open to capture the night air. Matt was leaning against the fender, twirling his car keys, watching them, and waiting to insert himself if needed.

  “Yeah, rekindled. We were always good friends in high school. You know that. If you two hadn’t been dating, she and I probably would have. Then the accident happened, and she announced she was pregnant. You married her, and I took off for the Marines. But when we saw each other last fall, all those warm feelings came back. We started talking a lot on the phone, just as friends at first, but it became more. I would catch up with her when I was in town and have lunch. One thing led to another.”

  “You seduced my wife.”

  Hank shook his head, those piercing eyes never leaving Nathan’s face. “The seduction was very mutual.”

  “No way would she do that to me.”

  “Think about it, Nate. You didn’t know we ran into each other. Or that we talked on the phone. Or that we had lunch when I was in town. If she wasn’t planning anything, if she had nothing to hide, why didn’t she tell you? But she never said a word, did she?”

  Nathan swallowed hard. “No.”

  “Why is that? Would you have thought anything weird was going on if she mentioned that she saw me and caught up? Of course not. Two old friends having lunch? You probably told her about the last time we had beers down at Sammy’s. She didn’t tell you because she knew it meant more to her. She knew from the moment she saw me that she had feelings for me, or she would have told you. The first phone call after we ran into each other? She called me. So no, I didn’t seduce your wife. In a lot of ways, she seduced me.”

  The numbness was complete. Nathan couldn’t think of anything to say as they stared at each other. With a final warning to stay away, Hank turned and walked back across the parking lot. He slid through the open car door and wrapped his arm around Donna’s shoulders as he closed the door, extinguishing the interior light. Matt cranked the engine and drove away, the taillights fading with distance.

  13

  Danny drove his battered van into the trailer park, a resigned Nathan riding beside him in the passenger seat, and parked in the dirt spot in front of his dark home.

  Overgrown brush crawled up the sides of the old trailer, partially hiding the faded paint. Gaps in the skirting exposed the cinder-block supports. A wooden ramp stretched up to the small front porch, a plastic chair its only furnishing.

  He spun the driver’s seat around, transferred himself to the waiting wheelchair, and operated the lift to move himself to the ground. “You coming?”

  Nathan nodded glumly and climbed out as Danny wheeled up the ramp, opened the front door of his trailer, and flipped on the overhead den light.

  He rolled through the small den, grabbed the remote control, and turned the television on just as the late-evening news from Asheville was starting. A serious-faced anchor provided updates on the latest arrest and downfall of Ricky Ward.

  Nathan shuffled in, closed the door, and collapsed on the couch. Danny wheeled into the trailer’s kitchen area and filled two glasses with water. “You sure you don’t want a beer instead?”

  “I have to work tomorrow.” Shocked that he hadn’t automatically removed his boots as though he was at home, Nathan untied and slid them off his feet and tucked them beside the couch. He had no home to go to and no clean clothes to change into. Even his truck was still parked at Sammy’s Pub. “After everything you’ve done for me, I hate to ask, but I need a ride in the morning. I can’t lose my job too.”

  “I’ll get you to work, but you deserve a good rip-roaring drunk tonight. We both do.”

  “I wish I could. I want it more than about anything except for the nasty hangover I would have tomorrow if I did it. Fixing a boiler is bad enough sober.”

  “Grasshopper has learned over the years,” Danny said in a fake and weak TV-Asian accent.

  Nathan leaned back into the couch and propped his feet up on the arm. “Facing Ronnie with a hangover would be the worst. It’s already going to be miserable when he hears what happened today.”

  Danny handed over a glass of water and wheeled into position at the end of the couch, his usual TV-watching spot. On the screen, a young guy with microphone in hand breathlessly reported from some darkened street with crime-scene tape around a now empty house.

  Nathan waved his hands at the television. “Why do they report ‘Live! From the Scene!’ of something that happened hours ago. Why not just do it from the comfort of the studio?”

  “Because they couldn’t show off that they can be live, I guess.”

  They watched the next few stories in quiet before Nathan spoke up again. “I learned one thing today. Jail sucks.”

  “I think that’s the point.”

  “I wish I had had more of the nachos an
d beer than that stale sandwich they gave me. No mayonnaise or mustard and dry as a desert. I couldn’t swallow it.”

  “From my personal experience, they only serve nachos and beer on Saturday nights.”

  A faint smile crossed Nathan’s lips, the first in hours. “I’ll make a point of being arrested on Saturdays from now on.”

  He sipped water and watched as the serious-looking middle-aged white guy and the coanchor young enough to be his daughter laughed at some silly joke. “Thanks again for arranging the bail.”

  “That bondsman was scary and as big as a house. And he had some serious ink all over his arms. I don’t want him knocking on my door.”

  The words were no sooner out of Danny’s mouth than a loud banging interrupted them. They exchanged worried looks as he rolled his chair over to the front door and turned the knob.

  The reflection from the porch light glistened off a police officer’s badge, sparking a flashback to the highway patrolman who’d knocked so many years earlier to tell a young Nathan that his father had died. He braced himself for bad news as Brett Carrington removed his hat and stepped inside the trailer.

  “Mr. Thomas, did the judge not tell you to stay away from your wife?”

  Nathan was shocked by the officer’s formal approach. “He said not to go home. I didn’t.”

  “But you went to the hospital to confront her?”

  “No. Not at all. I mean, yeah, I went to the hospital, but only to see how she was. I never meant her to see me.” Nathan cocked his head. “Is that what she said? That I confronted her?”

  “She was sleeping off the pain medication when I took the report. I spoke to Hank Saunders.”

  Nathan buried his face in his hands, fighting to keep his frustration under control. “I went just to see if she was okay but only spoke to them because they approached us.”

  “They approached you?”

  Danny spoke up. “That’s right. We were sitting in my van in the parking lot away from the entrance. We never got out of the van and never approached them.”

  Brett extracted a small paper pad from the breast pocket of his shirt, read something, and scribbled a note.

  “I wish you hadn’t done that. I’m trying hard to work with you, but that was a big mistake.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for her to see me.”

  Brett sighed and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Fair enough. The magistrate wasn’t too happy with the late call, but he signed off on a restraining order. You aren’t to approach your wife or your son until further notice. Don’t go to their house or to his school or anywhere else they are. If you see them somewhere, you have to stay at least a hundred feet away. You also are not allowed to contact either of them in any way.” He looked up and focused stern eyes on Nathan. “Let me be clear. If you violate the order, you will be arrested immediately. And trust me, the magistrate isn’t coming in over the weekend to hold another bail hearing, so you will sit there all weekend long. Is that clear?”

  “My son? Why can’t I talk to my son?”

  “If you have any questions or complaints about the order, you need to schedule a hearing in front of the magistrate and take it up with him. Until then, no, you may not speak to or approach your son. If you do, you will be arrested. Any more questions?”

  Nathan stared down at his feet, willing his anger to stay in check. The realization that Donna could keep Jacob away from him was just sinking in. And in a divorce, the woman always got custody. Or, at least, Nathan thought that’s the way it worked, then she would use it to keep them separated forever. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “No, sir. No more questions.”

  Brett put his hand on the doorknob but paused and turned before opening the door. “Nathan, do yourself a favor. Be smart about this.”

  “Hank’s with her right now. The two of them together.”

  Danny had locked the door after escorting the officer out and then retrieved beers from the refrigerator. The water was no longer enough.

  “Stop it,” Danny said. “You’re torturing yourself.”

  “He’s lying in my bed with her right now, and Jacob is wondering what’s going on.”

  “Jacob is at Luke’s house, remember? He knows nothing about what happened today, so he isn’t wondering anything.”

  The TV continued to ramble in the background, something about why the stock market was down for the day. Nathan grabbed the remote and lowered the volume to a mere whisper. “This is all about custody, isn’t it? She’ll want custody of Jacob.”

  “That’s a question for a divorce attorney.”

  “I can’t afford a regular attorney. How do I pay for a divorce attorney?” Nathan wrung his hands together, squeezing his knuckles until they popped. His fingers faded white from a lack of blood. “I should have just walked out when I caught them in bed. All I was thinking was I saw my marriage disappear before my eyes. I wasn’t even thinking about custody. Now, with the whole domestic violence thing and restraining order… man, I’m so stupid.”

  Danny took a long swallow on his beer. “One day at a time, okay? See how things go next week. Donna knows it’s better for Jacob if his life stays somewhat stable. Besides, he’s almost a teenager. He’ll insist on seeing you, and the courts will listen to that.” He looked at the can in his hand. “Probably. Hopefully.”

  Nathan cleared his throat. “But what she wants matters a lot, right? I mean, don’t the courts usually side with the woman in these things?”

  “Like I’m an expert?” Danny thought about it a moment but shook his head. “Do I think she will get custody? Sure. But I don’t see her trying to keep Jacob away from you. That doesn’t make sense.”

  “But how do we know that isn’t what she’s thinking?”

  “We don’t.”

  Nathan crumpled the can and retrieved another beer from the refrigerator. He settled back into the couch. “That restraining order. It’s on me and not you.”

  “So?”

  “Can you call Donna tomorrow and see what her plan is?”

  “You think she would tell me?”

  “She would if you ask it right.”

  “And how do you propose that?”

  He traced a water droplet rolling down the side of the can. “Ask if you can stop by and pick up my clothes. That’s a reasonable request, right?” When Danny nodded, he continued, “Then you can just say you feel stuck in the middle. Trying to help me with a place to live, but also trying not to pick sides. See what she says.”

  “Hank will be there.”

  “That’s fine. Maybe even better. He’s always been cocky, so maybe he just tells you their plan.”

  They locked eyes, Nathan studying Danny for any sign of resistance. Finally, Danny nodded slightly. “I’ll do it if you promise to stay away.”

  “I have to work anyway, right? We can meet at Sammy’s for lunch, and you can tell me everything. Deal?”

  Danny nodded and turned his attention back to the TV. White balls with black numbers filled the screen—the lottery drawing. Some lucky SOB somewhere was getting rich. He rolled his wheelchair over to the kitchen, slid open a drawer, and pulled out a lottery ticket with five sets of numbers.

  As the third number flashed on the screen, he dropped the ticket and cursed under his breath.

  “Guessing you aren’t buying a new house, huh?” Nathan said.

  “I wasn’t close. Guess it isn’t my lucky day.”

  “Want to hear the stupidest thing?”

  “What?”

  “I bought one of those today.”

  “You? Really? Thought you considered lottery tickets a waste of money.”

  “I do. You know I think it’s all rigged. But I found some money in Abe’s parking lot and thought today was my lucky day.”

  “No offense, but I think this has been the unluckiest day of your life.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Did your t
icket win?”

  Nathan shook his head. “I have no idea. Stuck the ticket in my jacket pocket. Left it at the house when I stormed out of there.”

  “Unluckiest day ever.”

  Part III

  Saturday

  14

  Nathan opened his eyes but quickly squeezed them shut again. The bright rising sun streaming through the trailer’s front window hammered his brain.

  He lay still, willing the pain to eke out of his body. With a great deal of reluctance, he pried his eyes open. The morning brilliance forced him to blink several times before he could focus.

  Several empty cans cluttered the small dining table. The reek of stale beer hung in the air. He remembered having drunk only three or four the night before, so Danny must have emptied the rest. At least, he hoped that was true though he may have just blanked the rest out. His body certainly felt worse than a few beers.

  His skin itched against the wool blanket draped over his body. After tossing aside the blanket, he dropped his feet to the floor with a thud, sat up, and stretched. His back creaked and popped in protest of a night on the lumpy couch. The room swayed as his head pounded from a hangover.

  Clad only in his boxers, he stumbled to the sole bathroom in the trailer. He leaned a hand against the wall to steady himself, his head still fuzzy from the lack of sleep and late beers, and pissed away the night before.

  Sleep had been scarce, as he’d woken up every half hour or so, wondering how badly he had screwed up his life. What little time had been spent in slumber was punctuated with vivid dreams.

  Before the previous day, his run-ins with the police seemed minor. His adult history included a lone speeding ticket, a surprise that his rickety old truck could even beat the posted limits.

  As a teenager, he and his friends had been caught rolling a teacher’s yard with toilet paper. The officer had called their parents—or in Nathan’s case, Ronnie since his dad was in Phoenix delivering a load with his semi. The next morning, he and Charlie, joined by the others involved, cleaned the toilet paper out of the trees under Ronnie’s stern supervision. Two days later, when his father came home from the road, he was grounded for a week. Coach Burleson made them all run extra laps for the next two weeks. Plus, the teacher kept calling on them in class. The coordinated punishment was effective. Nathan and Charlie swore off ever toilet-papering a yard again.