Lottery

  It is crying now for both of them. I look down. Keith is in his boat. I see him pulling a plastic tarp. His hatches must leak. Maybe we should order new gaskets from the store. I watch him work. He tucks in the edges carefully and clips them with bungee cords.

  I go into the bedroom for Gramp’s music. Ride of the Valkyries the cover says. There are horses and someone with a beard on the cover. He reminds me of the man at Marina Handy Mart who grabbed me by the arm. He was scary but he is in jail now. I remove the disk, place it on the turntable, click the on switch, and set the needle on the record. I pretend I am in a movie and shut my eyes.

  I am in a boat. I hear trumpets and they sound like waves. Like wind. I am sailing. Standing at the bow of Diamond Girl. I taste pretend salt on my lips. I feel the lurch and crash of the hull against the water.

  I was sixteen when Gramp died. We had taken El Toro out for a sail. El Toro means the bull in Spanish and was an eight-foot sailboat. A bull is a boy cow. When we picked her up from the dealer, Gramp told me to name her.

  “She has a name,” I said. “There.” And I pointed to the plastic letters on her side.

  “That’s just the class, Perry. It means the bull. It’s a brand name. Like Coke or Pepsi.”

  “The bull. I like that. I like El Toro,” I insisted.

  We named our boat El Toro even though it was a she.

  We sailed her every weekend and sometimes during the week.

  The last time when we left the dock Gramp looked worried. I could tell because he was sweating. I knew he gave money to someone and had to go to the bank later that day. I knew he always had business stuff to do, but out on the water all his worry lines would go away. We took turns on the tiller—first me, then him. The wind would quit, then come up fast and catch us by surprise. We both laughed as El Toro lulled, then jerked forward.

  “I love you, Gramp!” I said.

  “You’re a good boy, Perry. The best.” Then he reached across and lifted my hair out of my eyes. When we got to the marina, he stepped off El Toro, and sank to his knees onto the dock like he was doing a prayer. Like in church. I wound the line on the cleat, then grabbed for his hand. He always helped me up before. Not this time.

  He said my name. “Perry.” It turned into a whisper. His eyes rolled back.

  And he was gone.

  Marty was there when it happened. I did not know what to do. Gramp was lying on the dock. People ran to help. Someone, I think it was Gary, called Gram. The ambulance guys came, but there was no siren when they left. Gram heard it from Marty.

  “Dropped like a stone,” he said. “Dropped like a stone.” He held her hand tight.

  We lost the boatyard after that. The bank took over. El Toro had to be sold. We could not afford to keep her. That is what Gram told me. The boatyard was bought by someone else and Gary Holsted gave me a job. He said it was the best investment he ever made. I am glad. I like working at Holsted’s.

  I play Gramp’s music and walk into the living room to look out my window. The water is a color I do not know. Maybe gray or green. Keith’s blue tarp is over his cockpit. I see lights through the ports. They shine like candles inside of a pumpkin. I know Cherry is in there with him and wish they would ask me down for a visit tonight.

  Cherry is Keith’s girlfriend and Keith is my friend. I know this now.

  I miss Gram. I miss Gramp. I want Cherry. My throat is full of sadness. My heart hurts. I listen for Gram’s voice, but she is somewhere else. Maybe with Gramp. I wish she were here too. I lean my forehead against my hands onto the cold, cold window and think about what I should do.

  47

  As spring gets closer, we have more days that Gramp would call sail days. Mild, but breezy. Cherry has never sailed, and now that Diamond Girl’s engine has been fixed, Keith says maybe we should all go to Whidbey Island for the weekend.

  “Oh yeah!” I am excited. “Yeah, Keith, let’s go.”

  “What do we need to bring?” Cherry is practical. “Let’s go to the store.”

  Keith took us to QFC with a cooler.

  “If it doesn’t fit in here it doesn’t go.” Keith knows what we need.

  Diamond Girl has only one small propane stove with a single burner.

  “Bread, cheese, mayonnaise, cereal bars, cookies, crackers, juice . . . ,” she says.

  “Hey, Cherry, you’re great at provisioning,” I tell her. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

  “You’re kidding, right? That just means buying food for people to eat on a boat. How hard is that?” She grabs more cans off a shelf. “I can make chili. What else do you guys want?”

  I look at Keith and he grins. Beans make him fart. I do not think chili is a good idea but I do not tell Cherry this.

  Instead, I ask, “Is your anchor line okay, Keith?” I remember Keith said the chain and rope on his anchor needed replacing.

  “All taken care of,” he says. He has done more work on Diamond Girl in the last three months than he has the last three years.

  “When do you plan to be back?” Gary asks. “I can watch out for you.” He hands Keith a brand-new VHF handheld radio and adds a package of batteries.

  After we used a screwdriver to put in the batteries, Keith let me try it out. I have not used a radio since Gramp. It was so cool.

  “Everett Marina. Everett Marina. This is Diamond Girl requesting outbound clearance. Over.” The radio crackles and pops.

  Roger that, Diamond Girl! You’re clear outbound. Over and out.

  We wanted to leave the slip by eleven, but it is now nearly two in the afternoon. The sun sparkles on the water. Diamond Girl’s motor goes PUTT. PUTT. PUTT. Keith steers out toward Whidbey and I wrap and stow the lines.

  “How’d you know how to do that, Per?” Cherry watches me from the cockpit. “I’m a tiny bit afraid of being out in the water in a boat. They sink, don’t they? Boats do? You guys know I can’t swim, right?” she asks.

  “That’s okay,” I say. “I can’t swim either, Cherry. Keith tried to teach me in Hawaii, but we didn’t have enough time.” This does not seem to make her feel any better.

  I pull Keith’s life jackets out.

  “See, we have these. This will keep you from drowning. You can wear one if you want.”

  “Yeah, I think I will. What if I fall in? What do I do?” She takes one from me and I help her put it on. I have to lengthen the strap that goes around her waist. I accidentally touch her boob, but she does not seem to notice. Touching is okay if it is an accident. I get hard anyway.

  “The water is so cold here you’d freeze to death before you’d ever drown,” Keith says. He is just trying to be helpful.

  “Get her up, Per. Raise the mains’l.” Keith sings this to me in his pirate voice, and then to Cherry, “That there’s sailor talk. ARHHH!” Then he grabs her boob.

  Keith points Diamond Girl straight into the brisk breeze and shifts into neutral. I pull hard on the sheet. Sailing is something I know how to do. When the sail is raised, I tie off to the cleat on deck and quickly sit down.

  “Watch your head, Cherry!” I yell as the boom shifts. The wind is at our beam and Diamond Girl heels to one side. Cherry’s eyes get large and she grips the side of the cockpit.

  “Are you gonna puke?” I ask. Sometimes people get seasick. She shakes her head no.

  “Are you sure? I can get you a sack,” I say.

  We are flying. We are free. We are sailing. The wind hits my face and I open my mouth to taste the salty air. Cherry watches me and does the same.

  We fly for minutes. For hours. I can do this forever. Gramp is with me in my head. So is Gram. I close my eyes and decide if I have to die, I would die right now. I am that happy.

  Keith knows a small bay around the corner from the Whidbey Marina. The sun lowers in the sky. We need to anchor before it gets dark. My stomach is growling. I remember I did not eat lunch. We coast along the shoreline, and then tack back and forth. The waves push us along.

  “Here
,” Keith says, and stops the motor. I help him drop and set the anchor. We are not far from the beach. Diamond Girl does not draw much water. It is only about twenty feet deep. I cannot see the bottom, but the way the anchor set, I can tell it is rocky and not mud.

  It slowly gets dark. Cherry opens cans of chili and heats them on the propane stove. We are all so hungry we eat bread with no butter with chili on flat paper plates. We do not want to wash dishes. We use fake spoons. Cherry mixes hot cocoa and we munch oatmeal cookies and Oreos. Diamond Girl floats. The breeze dies down. The water is glassy smooth. Car lights move and flash from shore. We watch them while we talk and doze.

  “They wish they were us,” Cherry says sleepily and leans against Keith. “They wish they were us.”

  I think that is true. It is echt.

  I wrap a blanket around my shoulders and stretch out on the other side of the cockpit. This is where I always sleep on Diamond Girl.

  I am happy and start to bounce, but Keith says, “Per? No bouncing on the boat, okay?” Keith does not like me bouncing on Diamond Girl. He goes below and comes back up with a guitar. I am surprised because I did not know Keith could play any instrument. He strums and sings to us. His voice is clear and deep.

  What do you do with a drunken sailor . . .

  My grandfather and me . . .

  Sailing . . . take me away . . .

  Cherry snuggles against him while he plays and I see her look up, take one finger, and brush his beard. He turns and sings into her ear. I can tell he likes Cherry and she likes him.

  I wish Cherry liked me better than Keith but I do not think she does. Even though I bought her presents, she likes Keith best. Even though I am rich, she likes Keith best. He is poor, and rude, and crude, like Gram would say. But Cherry still likes him best.

  It is hard.

  Keith sings to me. To us. I can listen to him forever, but I fall asleep with him singing in my ear. I am asleep. And Diamond Girl rocks.

  48

  Gram hardly ever talked about my father.

  I thought he was dead.

  I wondered about how he might have died. Probably in a car accident. That is how most people die. In a car. Or maybe a heart attack from cholesterol. Maybe that. He could have been murdered. That is not likely, but it is possible. Possible. Like winning the lottery.

  Then I heard John and David talking. They came to visit after Mike Dinelli left on Thursday. They always come when Gary and Keith are not at Holsted’s.

  He agreed to a meeting. We’re getting close! I know it!

  What did Mike say to that?

  He said we’d better be. We don’t have much time.

  Mike suggested Perry needs a will. He pointed out that Mom would get all the money if Perry died now.

  You think he’ll die?

  Anything can happen.

  What exactly do you mean by that?

  Don’t be naive, David. You probably believe in the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus, and that Dad actually sends Mom money each month from his stash in the Cayman Islands.

  My father is alive.

  They said he was alive. I had no idea.

  David said the Cayman Islands were like Hawaii. All sunny.

  I had no idea my father was lying in the sun in the Cayman Islands after stealing a bunch of his client’s money. No idea at all. I wondered why he stole money. I wondered why he left and I wondered why I never knew.

  I asked Gary and Keith if they knew the answer to all my whys. I wanted to know. I could not stop thinking about it.

  Gary sighs and looks up at the ceiling. “I think it’s time you knew, Perry.” And tells me about my father.

  “It went on for years. He sucked them dry. When he got in trouble, your Gramp took a loan out against his business for the bail so your dad wouldn’t have to go to jail before the trial. When he skipped town, they lost the money. It was a struggle . . .” Gary looks up at the ceiling again. I look up too, but there is nothing there.

  “I think your Gramp still could have made it. He mortgaged everything to buy the hoist for the yard. It was his last chance to turn it all around. When things got tough, he just needed a break, a loan to tide him over. Those bastard grandsons of his never got back to him. Ignored his messages. Wouldn’t return his calls. Then it was too late. He lost it all,” Gary says. “Everything he worked for his whole life was gone.” His voice is low, as if Gram and Gramp would be upset with me knowing.

  There was one thing Gary said that was not true. Everything Gramp worked for his whole life was not gone. Gramp worked for me.

  I am still here.

  That is true. I know this. It is echt.

  When the people you worked for your whole life are still here, you have everything.

  Keith listened to the story without interrupting, which is hard for him to do. All of us are thinking at the same time and no one is speaking until Keith clears his throat and says, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they tried the same crap on Perry.”

  “No,” I say. “They just want my Power.”

  "Shit!” Gary leaps to his feet. He does not say the S-word very often. Keith says enough bad words for everybody.

  Power of Attorney? Could they be that stupid? That underhanded?

  Perry did you sign anything? Anything at all?

  Gary dials the phone. “Tom? I need to talk with you now!”

  Something is going on, but I do not know what it is.

  Gary and Keith say things I do not understand, but I listen. I am an auditor.

  What did your lawyer say?

  He said it’s not easy to declare someone incompetent, but that’s not the real danger.

  How much did that cost?

  Nothing. Don’t be so cynical, Keith. All lawyers aren’t like that. Tom said there are other ways.

  Other ways?

  Better ways of getting his money.

  Like what?

  With a Power of Attorney, they could sell his lottery annuity. Embezzle all his money legally. Shit! What are we going to do?

  We have to watch out. Make sure they don’t get him to sign anything.

  “Aren’t you upset about all this?” Keith asks me. “Aren’t you worried about what your brothers are doing? About what your father did?”

  I can tell he wants to help.

  “Cousin-brothers. They are my cousin-brothers, and no I’m not upset,” I say. “I am sad. I am sad for Gram and Gramp. I am sad for everybody. I wonder why Gram didn’t want me to know. It was only money.”

  And I walk back upstairs.

  It was only money, I think, as I lay on my couch.

  I wonder about things like this in the morning before I get up. Morning is a time for wondering. Gram and I used to wonder all the time in the morning. We would have wonder competitions.

  “I wonder how they get the cream inside a Twinkie.” That would be me.

  “I wonder how you can eat so much.” That would be Gram.

  “I wonder how they know twelve makes a dozen.” That would be me.

  “I wonder how all those assholes in Congress got elected.” That would be Gram again.

  It is important to wonder. You find out things when you wonder. That is how I found out Louise was my mother and how David and John were my brothers and my cousins. I was ten. I know this because I wrote it all down in my third book. I called them cousin-brothers.

  “Sometimes people don’t live with their families,” Gram said. “Like when a baby is adopted it means someone else can take better care of them. Will love them more.”

  I was crying because Kenny down the street said my parents didn’t want me and that was why I didn’t live at home with my mother and father.

  “Your parents gave you away. I know who your brothers are. They’re both creeps and you’re retarded. Your dad’s a scumbag and your mom’s a slut!” Kenny pushed me all the way across my yard. Gram was in the back weeding the garden.

  “You’re only with her because you’re retarded!”

 
“I am not!”

  “Are too! She’s the only one who wanted you. Retard!” Then he pushed me down, hit me hard in the face, and gave me a bloody nose.

  I yelled for Gram. “Gram!” I cried. “Gram!”

  “Get the hell out of my yard!” Gram ran fast, but Kenny was faster.

  I did not know what scumbag or slut was. When I asked Gram, she got mad and called Kenny’s mother on the phone.

  “You keep your boy away from Perry,” she said. “You keep your boy away.”

  Kenny and I used to be friends. I remember. We used to play together before either of us went to school. He was five and I was four. We played in my yard because I had a sandbox made out of an old dinghy that Gramp used to have at the marina. A boat filled with sand. We covered it every night with a tarp to keep the cats out. All the kids loved to play at my house. When Kenny’s mom went to work, Gram would watch us both.

  Then Kenny went to kindergarten and I could not because I had a late birthday and too many toilet accidents. Kenny would bring friends home to play after that.

  “Why do you play with that retard?” they would say. My feelings would be hurt.

  Look! He crapped his pants!

  He smells!

  Retard! Retard! Retard!

  Even his parents don’t want him!

  They gave him away!

  Retard!

  Gram tried to explain why I was not allowed to play with Kenny anymore.

  “People are cruel. They tell you to do things. They have to think they are better. They like to tease and torment anything they think is weaker than them.”

  That was news to me. I was weak? I did not think of myself as weak. Only slow. This was something else I started to wonder about. Why do people tease? I started watching people and tried to figure it out. I worked hard at being an auditor.

  Manny used to tease me in a bad way, especially when he first started working at Holsted’s. He only did it when Keith and Gary were not around. He does not tease me anymore. Now he says, “How you doing, Per?” And “What we having for lunch?” and stuff like that.

  Now Gary looks right into my eyes when he asks me about ordering.

  “What do you think?” he asks. “What do you think?”