Lottery

by Kimberly Shursen

  “Fuck you,” she shouted, racing down the street, her hands pushed into the pockets of the black coat.

  Christ, she was going to turn him in. Heart pounding in his temples, Caleb started to follow her. Would she tell the police that he had had an altercation with Weber? Or that Caleb had killed him for the lottery ticket? That wasn’t going to happen. He wouldn’t let it happen. If Caleb gave her what she wanted, however, he’d be opening Pandora’s Box, and McKenzie would never leave him alone.

  Head down, he stayed almost half a block behind her. No longer hearing the sirens or the streetcars, Caleb’s focus was on her. Somehow, he had to make her listen.

  Staying in the shadows, he watched her turn east on Taylor. Quickening his step, Caleb didn’t want to lose sight of her. What if she was going to the police station? No … the station wasn’t in this direction. She’d probably go back to her apartment—or wherever the hell she was staying and call them.

  In the Tenderloin now, which was in the worst crime suburb in San Francisco, Caleb wasn’t in his comfort zone. Creepy-looking people lurked on every corner. Tattoos of snakes with multiple heads slithered up arms; swastikas decorated shaved heads; red, blue, and green hair; teeth missing; he prayed he’d make it out of here alive.

  He saw her turn right on Union. A sign with large letters that spelled out “Occupy” hung from the deck of a second-floor apartment. Heart in his throat, Caleb wished to hell McKenzie would get to wherever she was going so he could reason with her.

  Turning at the Original Joe’s Italian Restaurant, he peeked around the edge of the building and saw her turn into an alley. Walking faster, Caleb peered after her and saw McKenzie open a door and disappear behind it.

  He walked swiftly and quietly past a couple of druggies; their heads pressed into the brick walls that were covered in graffiti; their eyes rolled back in their heads. When he reached the door she’d opened, he put his ear against it. When Caleb didn’t hear anything, he turned the knob slowly, finding it unlocked.

  Opening the door a couple of inches, he cautiously peered inside. Squinting to see through the dark room that was dimly lit by the streetlights filtering through the broken window panes, he made out a figure sitting on the floor. A flicker from a lighter and Caleb saw the pipe. He had hoped he could get to McKenzie before she smoked more dope.

  Opening the door wide enough to step inside, he noticed a heap of clothing wadded up in a corner—paper sacks littered the floor. He shivered when he imagined rats spying on him from the corners, and bats hiding in the rafters.

  “McKenzie?” he whispered, smelling a rancid odor.

  “Who’s there?” McKenzie slurred.

  “It’s me. Caleb.” He knelt down next to her.

  She tilted her head back, drew in a breath and spit in his face. “Getthefuckoutahere,” she said as one word.

  His hand immediately clenched into a tight fist, he had to keep his temper in check so he could convince her. “Listen to me,” Caleb said, wiping the disgusting spittle off his face. “I’ll help you get out of here.”

  She waved an arm over her head. “Goin’ to jail. You kilt him.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone and I’m not—”

  “Help!” McKenzie screamed, dropped to her hands and knees and started crawling rapidly away from him across the filthy floor. “He’s gonna kill—”

  Enraged, Caleb lunged at her. He slapped one hand over her mouth, his other hand wrapped around her throat. “Shut up!” Why the hell wouldn’t she listen?

  When her teeth slashed into his hand like a rabid dog, Caleb let go, letting out a muffled cry. He felt the warm blood ooze from the bite.

  “Fuckin’ kill the bitch, man,” Weber ordered.

  “Help,” she cried out wildly, trying to scramble away from him. “Heeeellppp me!”

  “Damn it, shut the fuck up.” He jumped on top of her, taking them both down into the grime, the dust filling his nose and mouth.

  “Aarrrgggh,” McKenzie gushed when her breath was knocked out of her.

  Seeing red, Caleb put his full weight on her back, and slammed her head into the floorboard as she writhed violently beneath him. “I told you to shut the fuck up,” he coughed out.

  “She's going to ruin your life!” Weber shouted.

  Caleb quickly turned her over, grasped a clump of her hair in his hand and smashed her head down into the floor again. “You’re going to fuckin’ listen to me, bitch.” Terror in her eyes, she opened her mouth wide, and started to cry out a high-pitched scream. Caleb slapped his hand over her mouth.

  Keeping her mouth covered, he patted around the floor with his other hand looking for anything he could use to gag her when he found her scarf.

  “I’m going to let go, okay?” He told her calmly.

  Trembling, she nodded slightly, the expression on her face terrified.

  “And I don’t want you to scream. I just want you to listen.” Perspiration dripping, Caleb slowly took his hand off her mouth.

  “Help!” McKenzie shouted. Bucking her hips and flailing her arms wildly, she turned over, and tried to pull herself out from underneath Caleb.

  “Now,” Weber ordered angrily.

  Caleb caught her leg and dragged her backward, the sound of her fingernails like nails on a chalkboard scraped across the wood. He flipped her over, and smashed the palm of his hand into her forehead. It wasn’t difficult to overpower her fragile, emaciated body. Swiftly, he wrapped the scarf around her neck and pulled the ends together tightly. McKenzie gasped, frantically clawing at the scarf with her fingers. The more she fought, the more Caleb’s rage intensified.

  “I told you not to scream,” Caleb said through clenched teeth, glaring into McKenzie’s blood-shot bulging eyes. Using all his strength, he pulled tighter … her mouth dropped open as she tried to gasp in air.

  He twisted and tightened the scarf, watching her face turn from a fierce red to a pale white. “Stupid bitch! You just wouldn’t listen.”

  When she was no longer moving, Caleb let go of the scarf. The sound of her head when it hit the wood floor resounded through the room.

  Caleb wiped the sweat off his brow. Rising to his knees, the room was spinning. He looked down and saw her head had rolled to the side—her arms limp—her legs sprawled in different directions. Suddenly, his anger was replaced by fear. He stood slowly, shaking his head back and forth slowly. He held out his trembling hands that had squeezed the life out of her and stared at them. “No,” he said, stumbling backward. “Oh, God, please no.”

  “Get the hell out of there now!” Weber told him.

  Caleb bent over from the waist, covering his ears with his hands. “Shut up.” The lump in his throat was so large, it was difficult to swallow.

  He couldn’t think. He was going to be sick. All Caleb had wanted to do was to help McKenzie. Shit. What had he done?

  He stumbled toward the door and stopped when he felt the aching remnants of her bite. She’d drawn blood. Even though his thinking clouded, he knew he had to get rid of any evidence that would lead back to him. Panicked, his eyes searched the room until he spotted a bottle of water on a window sill.

  Trembling, he knelt over her, and poured the clear liquid over her mouth. The scarf still in his hand, he wiped off her face. How could he do such a terrible—

  “Christ, O’Toole, get moving,” Weber advised.

  Quickly, he pushed the empty water bottle into his back pocket, and glanced back at her lifeless body when he reached the door. It was over, and there was nothing he could do to bring McKenzie Price back.

  Slowly, Caleb turned the door knob and peeked out. Not seeing anyone, he frantically wiped the inside and outside handles off with the scarf.

  Turning in the opposite direction from how he’d come into the alley, he kept his head down. He had to get rid of the scarf … and the water bottle …

  Jesus Christ. Caleb couldn’t kill anyone … it was Weber who’d done this.

  ustin was sitting on one of t
he chairs in the kitchen with Baileigh on his lap.

  “When’s Mommy coming home?” The child’s trusting blue eyes looked up at him for answers.

  He stroked her light brown hair that fell softly to her shoulders. “Tomorrow. We’ll bring Mommy home tomorrow.”

  Baileigh’s bottom lip stuck out and her chin started to quiver. “But I want her now.”

  Justin and Jenee had agreed before Baileigh was born that if their children ever asked questions, they would tell the truth. So far, Baileigh hadn’t asked why her mother was in the hospital.

  “How ‘bout we go see Mommy today?” Justin smiled. “Take her some pretty flowers?”

  Baileigh’s face lit up. “Can I pick them out?”

  “Sure.” He lifted her up and set his daughter on the floor. “Go on upstairs and pick out something beautiful to wear to the hospital, okay?”

  He watched her scamper out of the kitchen and then heard her going up the stairs. Justin stood, walked to the kitchen sink, and looked down at the breakfast dishes. He would never ask Jenee what she did during the day again. If there weren’t dishes to do, there was laundry. When he wasn’t picking up toys, he was bathing Baileigh, or mopping the floor. On top of everything else, he had to fix three meals a day, plus make sure Baileigh was at her dance lessons on time.

  Justin hadn’t had much sleep since Jenee had told him about the operation. He felt helpless that he couldn’t do something to change the situation. Even though his wife had only been in the hospital for couple of days, he missed her laugh, and the way her eyes lit up whenever he walked in the back door after a long day at work.

  He thought about his friend Randy who’d lost his own wife to breast cancer a little over a year ago. Justin pinched the corners of his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Randy’s wife had only been twenty-seven. Twenty-seven. Four years older than Jenee. Justin remembered how full of life Randy’s wife was, but four months after she was diagnosed, Randy and their two young children had buried a wife and mother. How the hell did anyone get through losing a spouse?

  He put his hands down on either side of the sink and gazed out the window. His mind floated through a flurry of memories—the first time he’d held Jenee’s hand; their first kiss; the moment Justin had first laid eyes on their daughter. A chill went down his spine when he suddenly realized that if Jenee hadn’t gone to the doctor when she had, he would only a few short years of memories of their life together.

  He bowed his head. “Thank you, God,” he whispered, his eyes clouding with tears. “Thank you for not taking my wife from me.”

  He couldn’t protect his wife from cancer or a life-threatening disease. Justin could only try and make her happy for as long he or Jenee lived.

  Jenee rested her back against the slightly elevated hospital bed. Even though her body ached, the pain didn’t ravage her as it had when she first came out of the anesthesia. She felt sad and empty, as if there was a dark cloud looming above her. But the nurse had told her it wasn’t unusual to be depressed after a major operation.

  She relaxed her head back into the pillow and turned toward the window. It was raining. The weather matched how she felt inside; cloudy with precipitation in the form of the tears that she shed privately.

  Justin didn’t need to see her cry. She could tell by how quiet he was that he was upset. Oh, they’d had their knockdown, drag-out spats, disagreeing about everything from spending money to how to raise Baileigh. She remembered the time she’d screamed at him for leaving his dishes in the sink. Justin had stormed out the door, the tires on his truck squealing when he peeled out of the driveway. Jenee had paced all night, wondering if her husband was with someone else—someone who would appreciate him more than she did. But when he came home the next morning and apologized, and then told her he’d stayed in a motel alone, Jenee had never felt so relieved.

  Justin was the one steady, constant person in her life she could count on. He’d been the one who comforted Jenee when her father died, who’d held her hand and rubbed her back when she was in labor with Baileigh, and brought her flowers for no reason.

  “You doing okay?” Jenee looked up and saw a young nurse with round hazel eyes and a warm smile marching toward her. “I’m Katie and I’ll be your nurse today,” she added as she smoothed out the bed sheets.

  “I could use a pain pill when you have time,” Jenee said

  “You have a nice husband.” Katie nodded at the large bouquet of flowers Justin had brought into the room yesterday. “He’s so concerned about you.”

  Jenee smiled. “He’s a keeper.”

  “Need anything else?

  “You have anything I can read? Just to take my mind off of myself?”

  “When you’re the patient, you’re allowed to think about yourself.” Katie said. “I can bring in some magazines.”

  Jenee winced when she tried to sit up. “That would be great. I don’t think my husband and daughter are coming until after lunch, and I’m not crazy about watching television shows that are about to reveal who the father of a child is.”

  Katie laughed. “I’m with you on that one. I’ll be right back with a pill and some magazines.” She stopped at the door and turned around. “You know what? I just finished a book that is so good I couldn’t put it down. It’s called The Breeders. It’s a sequel. I’m just starting the second in the series called The Believers. Would you like to read the one I just finished?”

  “I’d like that.”

  Katie nodded. “Coming right up.”

  Jenee scrunched down in the bed. Her mom had come in earlier and brought chocolate glazed donuts, which were Jenee’s favorite. But she hadn’t been able to eat much because of the nausea. After the pain pill started to work, she’d order some chicken noodle soup.

  “Here ya go.” Katie waltzed back into the room. She placed the book and magazines on the bedside table and put her hand over the book. “Wait until you get to the part where … oh, sheesh, I don’t want to give away too much.” She giggled and handed Jenee a small cup with a pain pill inside. Katie picked up Jenee’s water glass from the bed tray and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” Jenee washed the medicine down with water.

  “Call me if you need anything.” The nurse tucked her shoulder-length hair behind her ears.

  Jenee decided to start the book after Justin left this afternoon and picked up the Good Housekeeping magazine. She spotted a recipe for a pot roast she thought Justin might like and wanted to remember to write it down before she left.

  When her eyes started to grow heavy, Jenee closed the magazine and picked up the next one on the stack. She actually subscribed to Parent’s magazine as it gave her creative ideas of things to do with Baileigh, but hadn’t had time to read the latest issue.

  She thumbed through the pages until she reached the advertisement section. The words ADOPTION AGENCIES caught her eye, especially one ad in particular.

  SEARCHING FOR THE RIGHT COUPLE TO ADOPT A CHILD FROM CHINA. ALL EXPENSES PAID INCLUDING ADOPTION FEES.

  What? This didn’t sound right. Someone was willing to pay all the fees to adopt a child from China?

  She read on. If interested, fill out the form at www.adoptachild.net. Was this a hoax? Maybe someone was trying to get names, like for an insurance agency or a multi-level marketing venture.

  The pill had already started to take the edge off. She rummaged through the top drawer in the bedside table and found a pen and note pad. After she wrote down the information from the ad and the website address, she tore off the sheet and put it beside her water glass. Jenee folded the top of the page that the ad was on and closed the magazine.

  “There’s no such thing as a free anything.” She heard her father’s words. He’d been gone a little more than a year and Jenee still missed him.

  No longer able to keep her eyes open, Jenee drew in a breath and relaxed into the pillow. It wasn’t long before she was in a deep sleep and dreamt the same dream she’d had for weeks.

 
; A dense fog filled the room. She noticed a child. The toddler’s back to her, the only thing she could see was thick, dark hair. When she heard children laughing, Jenee looked around.

  Where was she? She turned in slow motion, trying to see through the thick haze. She noticed a few people holding children—babies were sitting in high chairs—teenagers were chatting around a long rectangular table.

  Someone took her hand and she looked up and saw Justin.

  “Mrs. Rager?” She heard, but couldn’t find the person who said it. “Have you made up your mind?”

  Her eyes popped open. Her heart beating rapidly, she noticed the sheet underneath her was wet with perspiration. Panicked, Jenee glanced around the room, forgetting where she was.

  “Mommy!”

  She looked up and saw Baileigh running toward her, carrying a bouquet of daisies in her arms.

  “Are these for me?” Jenee asked groggily, trying to bring herself out of the dream and back into reality.

  “Uh, huh. They’re pretty like you.” Unlike her usual outgoing personality, Baileigh seemed timid today. It had to be overwhelming for a three-year-old to see her mommy in a hospital bed. Hospitals were scary for adults, let alone for children. Whenever Baileigh saw a nurse and a doctor, she either get a shot or had her ears checked.

  Jenee patted the mattress beside her. “Wanna come up here and sit with me?”

  Baileigh turned around and looked at Justin. “Can I, Daddy?”

  “Sure.” He lifted her up and placed her beside Jenee.

  “Your tummy better now, Mommy?” Baileigh asked sweetly.

  Jenee wrapped an arm around her and brought her close. “Good as new.”

  Justin pulled a chair up next to Jenee’s bed. “Doc said you can come home tomorrow.”

  Jenee let out a sigh. “I’m ready.”

  “I made a bed on the couch so you won’t have to take the stairs.” He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees.

  She shook her head. “Nope. Can’t get rid of me. I’m sleeping with you, big guy.”

  “Then I’ll sleep in the living room. No stairs or lifting for six weeks,” he said adamantly.