Lottery

by Patricia Wood

  “You’ll have to find somewhere else to live.” John told me this.

  He got mad when I called him to let him know we needed more time.

  “Come on, Perry. How much time does it take to get rid of all that garbage?” John yelled. “Christ! Just use a backhoe!” and he laughed over the phone. I did not know what was funny about a backhoe.

  “What’s a backhoe?” I asked Keith. “Is that like a tractor?”

  He got pissed.

  “The shits!” he said. “The moneygrubbers!” he snorted.

  Keith asked why he wasn’t invited to Gram’s funeral.

  “John said it was just for the family,” I said. “Gary wasn’t invited either.” I feel bad about that.

  “Your family is a bunch of fucks. You hear me, Per?”

  I start to cry again.

  “Don’t worry, Per. You’ll get through this. Everybody does,” he says, and pats my back. “Life goes on, Per. It surely does go on.”

  Keith and I pile old crossword puzzle books in boxes for the dump. I take one to keep. Gram’s handwriting is like a spider’s web, all wavy and thin. I like to look at it and think of her doing the crosswords.

  “Why’d you let them take all the valuable things?” Keith is my friend. Friends are people who get mad when they think someone does something unfair to you. He does not understand.

  “I got all the things I wanted,” I tell him. “I got the really good stuff. The melamine dishes decorated with anchors and flags that Gram and Gramp used to have on their boat, the free silverware from when we bought groceries at QFC.”

  I also have my clothes, four shoeboxes of Gram’s papers and pictures, and two large boxes of stuff marked SAVE.

  He just shakes his head.

  I can keep all the dictionaries and crossword puzzle books I want. I find three thesauruses. I do not know what a thesaurus is. I have to look it up in the dictionary.

  “The-saur-us,” I say, and look inside.

  “Sounds like a frigging dinosaur.” Keith does not act like he cares about words.

  “It means treasure. A book of words,” I say. “Gram always said words are the key to life. She would want me to keep these.” Treasure . I like that.

  I am responsible for Gram’s house until it is sold. I mow the lawn and wash the windows until they shine. I vacuum the living room carpet, scrub the kitchen floor tiles, and hose off the driveway. Keith helps me.

  Being responsible means that you work for a thing that you love. I loved Gram’s house. Gram and I had Christmas stockings, Easter baskets, and Thanksgiving dinners there. It was perfect for the two of us. I had my own bedroom and Gram had hers. The rest of the house was filled with crap. Even Gram said that. But it was okay because the only person who came over after Gramp died was Keith. We did not need anyone else. It was a wonderful house.

  John said we would not get much money for it. We did escrow. I think it has something to do with birds. Gram would say it was for the birds. That is what she would say.

  John told me there would be a lot of paperwork, but I had to go to work at Holsted’s. It was not my day off.

  “We can handle it for you. Sign here.” He gave me a paper. It gave him my Power to the house so he could write my name thirty-two times. That is what he said. Escrow is when you have to write your name thirty-two times. He told me this.

  Keith takes me back to Gram’s house for the last time. I hear Yo’s engine run. RATTLE. RATTLE. John hands me an envelope with a five-hundred-dollar check inside marked HOUSE SALE. I will put two hundred and fifty dollars in my checking account and two hundred and fifty in my savings account. Spend half and save half, Gram always said. I would rather have had Gram and our house than five hundred dollars. It does not seem like much money for a house.

  “That’s it!” John smiles over my head. Elaine stands behind him, next to David, and Louise stands on the other side. I hand David the key to Gram’s house. Elaine grabs it out of his hand and John grabs it out of hers.

  They make me sweat and my armpits smell. Gram always said she knew when they were up to something.

  “They have that look!” she would say.

  “What look?” I always asked.

  “Don’t be smart,” Gram would say. Her lips would stretch tight and her brown eyes would squint.

  They have that look, I hear her say inside my ear.

  They have that look now.

  10

  I have no place to live so Gary let me move into the apartment right above Holsted’s where Otis the security guard used to stay. He stole money out of the cash register and was arrested.

  “Serves him right, Per! He’s in jail now! Monroe Penitentiary, with wife beaters, baby killers, and perverts!” Keith said.

  “This will work fine, Perry. You need a place to live and I need someone to live over the store at night,” Gary said.

  To get to my apartment I have to climb up a long outside stairway right above Holsted’s main entry. My front door opens into a large space. Half is the kitchen and half is the living room. The kitchen side has a stove, refrigerator, and counter.

  “The sink leaks so you have to keep a bucket underneath,” Gary warns. I have four cupboards. I put my cans and cereal in the top ones and keep dishes in the bottom ones. The living room is neat because it has a big picture window that has a view of the parking lot and marina. I can look down and see who comes into Holsted’s. That is so cool. I have to keep a towel on the sill because rain leaks around the edges.

  A long wall across from the door fits Gram’s couch perfectly. My table and chairs sit next to the window. I put Gram’s double bed in the bedroom and scoot it against the wall. Gram’s old white night-stand is on one side with my clock radio on top. The radio part does not work and the alarm sometimes does not ring, but the clock keeps good time. It flashes and is digital. That means it has numbers instead of hands.

  There is a short hall off the living room with a washer and dryer at the end, a bathroom on one side, and my bedroom door on the other. I have a toilet, sink, and shower, but no tub. That is okay. I do not like bathtubs because that is where they put murdered people on TV.

  Keith helped me move into my apartment, but he would not help me clean.

  “I have to draw the line somewhere, Per! I’ve never cleaned a kitchen in my life and don’t intend to start now.” Keith helped me carry all of my furniture up the long stairway to my apartment. He only said the F-word twice and the S-word once when he pinched his finger between the doorframe and the sofa.

  “This will be really convenient having you so close, Perry,” Gary said. Convenient means that other people do not have to work so hard.

  Keith’s twenty-seven-foot Catalina sailboat Diamond Girl is moored in the first slip on C dock. I can see his boat from my window and when he sees me he waves. I like to visit Keith, but he sleeps a lot and I do not want to bother him. I would like to live on a twenty-seven -foot Catalina. That would be cool.

  The first time I met Keith was the first time I saw Diamond Girl. I cannot think of one without the other. I saw them coming into the harbor and I watched as Keith steered her to the slip. He did not do a good job and almost crashed Diamond Girl’s bow into the dock. That’s okay. People make mistakes when they drive boats.

  “Grab my line, will you?” I heard Keith before I saw him and before I knew he was Keith. He did not need to tell me what to do. I was already holding Diamond Girl off the dock with my foot. Keith threw out a fender and I wrapped his bowline on a cleat.

  “She’s beautiful,” I said. “Catalinas are great boats.” And I helped him secure his aft line.

  Most people look at me hard when they first hear me talk. Keith is not most people.

  He double-checked Diamond Girl’s lines and said, “Good job there, matey!” Then he stuck out his hand and said, “Keith!”

  I shook it and said, “Perry.”

  Then he farted twice really loud and walked across the parking lot to Holsted’s. I foll
owed him because my lunch break was over. The next day he started working at Holsted’s. I like Keith. He is my friend.

  I have Gram’s ashes with me. Her wooden urn stays on the bottom shelf of my bedside table. My books are on top and she is underneath. It is like us being together again, but she does not talk out loud. She is only in my head now.

  My life is different with Gram gone. I do not go to bingo anymore on Tuesdays. I have no one to play with because Keith does not like bingo. I only asked him to go once.

  “You want to go to bingo, Keith?”

  “Stick needles in my eye, Per! Go inside a Catholic church? Not on your life!” That is what Keith says when he really does not want to do something. He says he would rather have needles in his eye. I just say okay.

  I go to Gilly’s, Marina Handy Mart, and KFC. I do not go to the movies. I would have to take a bus and it is hard to choose which movie to see, so I stay home. On Sunday morning, I wake up early, walk to Marina Handy Mart, and get a paper and box of powdered-sugar doughnuts or cinnamon rolls. It gives me a chance to see Cherry. When I get home, I sit upstairs and watch out my window until Keith wakes up. If he wants me to come over, he will wave. Then we will sit together in his cockpit and eat cinnamon rolls or doughnuts. It does not matter if it is cold or raining. I feed seagulls pieces of my doughnut, which makes Keith mad.

  “Jesus, Per! Don’t encourage the little shits!” He throws empty beer cans at them, but never hits any because aluminum beer cans are too light. They end up in the water and he has to get a net with a long handle and scoop them up out of the Sound so the harbormaster doesn’t get pissed off.

  “Don’t feed them, Per!” he says. “Please?”

  “Okay.” I like seagulls except when they crap on things. Their crap is powerful and can corrode paint off a car.

  “See what happened to Yo? That’s all from seagull shit!” Keith says.

  “I didn’t know bird crap could rot, rust, and dent trucks. I think that is amazing,” I say.

  “Don’t be smart, Per!” Keith sounds just like Gram, and I laugh.

  I do not have to share the Sunday paper at home, because Keith is not interested in the newspaper except for sports. That makes me sad because I like to share. It takes me all week to read the paper. Gram used to say I got my money’s worth. Getting your money’s worth is funny. I mean, you mostly get something for money, except maybe when you sell a house.

  Cherry works the register at Marina Handy Mart. She has a pretty smile and a beautiful face. I like to take my time and visit on Sundays. It is hard not to stare. Sometimes there is lipstick on her teeth, but it is rude to tell her that. You can only look and wish she would take her fingernail and peel it off.

  “I’m sorry about your Gram,” she says, and plays with the silver ball on her tongue. Cherry looks sorry. I hear her click the stud against her teeth. Gram would always make her laugh. She would call her Apple or Banana for fun.

  “That’s what you get for having fruit as a name!” Gram would cackle and Cherry would giggle.

  But Gram is not here.

  “Give me five Lotto tickets and a Slurpee, please.” I set a bag of Hershey’s Kisses on the counter. I do not pick up the Enquirer.

  “Don’t you want the paper?” Cherry’s hair is very colorful. It is green and blue stripes with brown.

  “No.” My throat is tight and my eyes fill with water like from sad movies.

  “You can do the puzzle, you know. It might make you feel better,” she says. Her eyes are dark brown like a seal except they are not wet.

  “Okay, then.” I have a hard time getting words out of my mouth.

  “Cherry is a very nice girl,” Gram would say. “Even though she has earrings all over her face and tattoos up her butt!”

  Nice is when you look like you mean the things you say. I do not think Cherry has tattoos up her butt. She has a flower on her shoulder, a cat on one arm, and a chain thing around her ankle. Cherry told me the only one that hurt was the one on her foot. That is because it was on bone.

  “The ones that hurt are close to the bone,” she says.

  Being without Gram is close to the bone, I think. I want to stay and talk to Cherry, but I do not know what to say. There are other people in line, so I leave. I pretend that Gram is walking along with me so I do not get lonely. I imagine her just behind.

  “Come on, Gram,” I say. “Hurry up. We need to get home.”

  It is hard to turn around and see that she is not there.

  Like bone, I think.

  I check my lottery tickets on Sunday. When no numbers match, I throw the tickets into the trash. I work on the crossword for six days straight. I get three answers, but it is harder without Gram. I answer seven down, three down, and two across.

  Downs are always easier than acrosses. Crossword puzzles are difficult when there is no one to help. Most things in life are difficult, Gram used to say.

  Everything is harder without Gram.

  I ran out of milk for my oatmeal, so I wanted to go to QFC grocery store. My bus pass was no good and I did not have exact change. I rode my bike to Marina Handy Mart instead, even though it was raining hard. I bought milk, a can of SpaghettiOs, and bread.

  Handy Mart is more expensive and SpaghettiOs are not as good as Saturday night spaghetti like Gram, Keith, and I used to make. Cherry was not working at the counter, so I did not stay to talk. I hooked the plastic bags on the handlebars of my bike and they swung and hit my knees all the way back to my apartment.

  11

  I still have to do my wash on Wednesdays, but it is only my clothes and not Gram’s. I only have two small loads. I used to do four loads. I would have sheets, towels, Gram’s underwear, and her pajamas. Those are the whites. My shirts, jeans, and Gram’s dresses are the darks. Thinking of this makes me sad, so I have to cry again.

  Gram said it was very important to have the dark clothes together and the white ones separate so they do not run or change colors. Gram taught me. The first time I washed clothes, I accidentally put her red top with my underpants.

  “Goddamn, Perry! All your underwear’s pink! So are my bras. Well, that’s okay. I don’t mind pink bras, but you better start growing or you’re going to wear pink underwear for a long, long time. We can’t afford to buy new,” and Gram made me keep them until I needed the next larger size. After that, we used them for rags. Pink underwear is definitely not cool and I would have been embarrassed if anybody found out.

  I stayed in my pajamas and put all my other clothes into the washer. I dumped soap in, turned the dial, and closed the lid. It was bathroom-cleaning day. At Gram’s house on days off, I always cleaned the bathroom and Gram did the kitchen floor. Now I have to do all the chores. It takes a long time.

  The first thing I do is clean the shower with Comet. It is all scratchy on the tile and my back gets sore. I am scrubbing the toilet bowl with a brush when I hear BANG! CRASH! CRASH! I run into the hall. There is soapy water all over the floor. I slip and fall on my butt and slide all the way to my bedroom. It hurts. I hit my arm on the door. I crawl on my hands and knees and have to use all my clean towels to mop it up. The washer is still leaking and I turn it off quick so it does not explode and kill me.

  It is a very bad day.

  My pajama bottoms are soaked. I must have made a lot of noise because Keith and Gary come running upstairs and bang on my door. I hear their voices so I know who it is. I am embarrassed, all dripping wet, and covered with Comet and laundry soap. I do not want to answer their knocks, but it is rude to pretend you are not home. I open the door and tell them what happened.

  “My clothes are dirty. The washer is broken. There’s water all over the floor. I have nothing to wear. Gram is dead and there’s no one to help me.”

  I cannot stop crying and get the hiccups. My eyes are swollen shut and I cannot see. Gary goes into my kitchen and brings me back a glass of water. He makes me sit on the couch and hands me a paper towel to wipe my face. Paper towels are rough and
they hurt. It is better to use toilet paper, but I do not tell him that. It would hurt his feelings.

  “Have you had anything to eat?” Keith asks. He looks around at the mess in my apartment. I am ashamed at my dirty place. My elbow throbs and my knee prickles.

  “No,” I tell him. That is the truth. I forgot to buy my cereal.

  Keith is my friend. He goes down to his boat and brings me back a Snickers candy bar and a navy blue sweatshirt and pair of jeans. Gary finds Gramp’s old belt in my drawer. Keith’s pants are too big for me. They drag on the floor, but I do not care. He helps throw my wet laundry in the back of Yo and drives me to Nick’s Laundromat. He keeps me company and we eat Cheetos while my laundry washes and dries. He even helps me fold everything.

  “You let me know when you need help like this. You hear, Per?” Keith has to clear his throat three times.

  “You getting a cold, Keith?” I ask.

  “No, Per.”

  He tells me it’s going to take a while for me to adjust. “Gary and I will be here to help you. Call us. Okay?”

  Adjust means that you have to change because things are different. When things are different, even though you do not like them, you have to adjust. This is true.

  Gary ordered a new washer-dryer from Sears and had them take the old ones away. The new one is tall and white. The dryer is on top and the washer part is on the bottom. It is a Kenmore and I know how to make it work.

  “Hey, Keith! Can I wash your clothes? I can wash your clothes.” This is my first good idea since Gram died.

  “Yeah, that would be great, Per. Thanks!” He smiles and gives me a pat on the back.

  Now we are both happy.

  I guess I just needed to wash more than just my own clothes to not be so sad. Gary gives me all the rags and towels from Holsted’s to clean too. I have lots of clothes to wash now. I can pretend they are Gram’s except there are no dresses, just big dirty jeans, extra large T-shirts, and stained, stretched-out men’s underpants.