The Outsider

by K'Anne Meinel

  She stayed at the mall until all the security guards had her under their view. They knew what she was doing and finally chased her out of the mall. She’d been warm most of the day and quickly slipped into a dumpster, finding a tarp that someone had disposed of and wrapping herself in it. She slept well that night, out of the weather, her body heat generated and protected by the tarp. She was pretty comfortable, if she didn’t think about the smells coming from the dumpster. She was up early, so as not to alarm anyone by being seen climbing out and was just in time as that dumpster was picked up shortly after she climbed over the edge and walked away. She saw the truck coming to empty it. She watched the driver not even look inside as the forklift prongs lifted it up and over the front of the truck, dumping it inside the large trash compactor part of the truck. If she had been inside, she would have been dumped without even a glance into the large truck. She shuddered at the thought, having heard stories on the streets of just such an occurrence.

  Her stomach rumbled, the peanut bar she had pieced out yesterday was long gone. She thought of the garbage cans at the mall, the many people throwing away half-eaten trays of food, and her stomach clenched. She had eaten garbage a few times in her years on the street, but she was not proud of it. She glanced at a clock on the street and saw it was nearly eight in the morning. Surely that building was open. She felt for the paper in her pocket and was strangely relieved to feel it in the too tight jeans. She made her way to the office building that she had memorized, still chanting the address in her head, the way she had learned things in her youth. The door was open, but as she tried to cross the lobby she was stopped by a security guard.

  “Where do you think you are going?” he asked, officiously.

  “I was told to go to the lottery commission. It’s on…” she began, but he interrupted her.

  “It’s not open until nine a.m.” He looked at her outfit and knew her for what she was, a poor street person.

  “Can I wait…” she began, but he was already shaking his head. She knew when she was beaten as she slumped her shoulders and began to head for the exit.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” he called to her. Feeling sorry for her, he told her she could wait for the office to open if she stayed out of sight in the stairwell. He pointed it out. “If anyone asks, I don’t know you.”

  She smiled her thanks, unaware that her face was dirty from where she had slept and the fact that she stank. She headed into the stairwell, very aware she could have walked up the stairs to the office to wait, but not wanting to piss off the generous man. She found a pocket under the last steps and stayed out of sight for a good hour before heading up the stairs when she heard people entering the building and talking. She stayed in the stairwell until she got to the fifth floor and began reading the signs, finding the lottery commission office and entering.

  The office was nothing special, merely a misted glass window with a receptionist and a door next to it. “May I help you?” the woman asked and then noticed what her visitor looked like. It took a moment for the smell to permeate and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  “Hi, I was told I had to redeem this here?” Joy asked as she fished the lottery ticket from her pocket. The jeans resisted her, tight as they were, and she felt the ticket begin to tear. She delved further into the pocket with her fingers and hand, nearly pulling her pants down in her attempt to pull the ticket out. Finally, she had it and pulled it gently out of the pocket. The tear was not bad, but the ticket was very crumpled from having spent all that time in her front pocket. She pushed it across to the receptionist who took it distastefully. The woman picked it up by a corner only, nearly tearing it some more before sliding it under a scanner to read the numbers. Her eyes widened at what came up. She turned the ticket over and saw that the girl had filled it out properly.

  “Just a minute,” she said and got up from her desk to head back further in the office. Joy watched her go, alarmed at first that she took the ticket with her. She stood there resolutely. She was not going to leave without her ticket or her money. They’d have to call the police on her; she was not leaving. They couldn’t cheat her…they…whatever they were going to do would have to wait as a man accompanied the receptionist back to the front.

  “Ms. Parker?” he asked solicitously.

  Joy blinked. No one had used her name so respectfully in a long time. She had gone by several street names over the years. Few, if any, knew her name was Joy, and no one knew she was a Parker. Only at the hospital those many weeks ago, had they used it properly. “Yes,” she said softly, wondering if this were some horrible joke. She just wanted her six hundred dollars so she could go. She was not hurting anybody.

  “Would you come in the office? I have some paperwork for you to fill out,” he said kindly. He could see she was shocked. Anyone would be. He smiled to reassure her.

  “Paperwork?” she repeated dumbly as he opened the door to the inner sanctum.

  “Yes, it’s necessary for taxes,” he informed her, trying not to wrinkle his nose at her odor.

  Joy followed him, feeling very self-conscious as she wiped her hands on her already filthy jeans. Her stomach was rumbling. She tried not to hear it, but she could feel it and her nervousness was making her feel gassy. She hoped she didn’t start farting on top of the way she was already feeling. She saw the receptionist turn away as she went back into the offices. The forms he laid before her were simple. He explained it was for state and federal taxes and if she wanted her winnings in one lump sum or an annuity.

  “What’s an annuity?” she asked, feeling stupid, like she should know.

  “It’s where we, the lottery commission, pay you in annual payments,” he explained gently. He realized she was nervous. He also realized that given how she was dressed, she probably hadn’t ever seen much money. This would change her whole life.

  “So, I don’t get all the money?” she asked, feeling even more stupid for having to ask. She should know, shouldn’t she?

  “You have a choice. You can get it all up front or you could go with the payments.”

  “Why would I go with that annuity thing?”

  “You actually get more.”

  “But I don’t if I go with the lump sum?”

  “No, because we have to take out more in taxes.”

  “But then I get it all at once?”

  He nodded. “Yes, but they give you less than the annuity would.”

  She mulled that over as she considered. “What happens if you run out before you pay me all of it?”

  He smiled. “That won’t happen; it’s backed by the lottery.”

  “What if the lottery runs outta money?” she repeated worriedly.

  “That happened momentarily in Illinois once,” he admitted. “That was their state lottery. This is run in several states and they won’t run out,” he assured her.

  Still, the thought that she wouldn’t get her full six hundred dollars worried her. What if they ran out? “How long is this annuity thing?” she asked to be certain before she checked the box on how she wanted her money.

  “It’s twenty-nine payments,” he told her, sure she would go with the annuity now and proud he had somehow convinced her.

  “Twenty-nine?!?” she asked, aghast. “How often do you send ‘em?”

  “Once a year. They are deposited directly into your bank account for you.”

  Having worked as a bartender, she had learned to add and subtract quickly. Multiplying and division took only a moment longer. “Only once a year?” she asked as she figured out the math. That worked out to a mere twenty dollars a year for twenty-nine years? That made her ‘win’ sound pathetic. She’d wasted her time coming down here for that six hundred dollars. Still, twenty dollars a year was something and she had come, so she might as well finish the paperwork they were making her sign. But why twenty-nine? That’s right, he had mentioned taxes. They must keep that one year’s worth.

  “Well, I’m sure you will find a financial advisor who will he
lp you sort that out so you don’t overspend,” he assured her winningly with a false smile. She really smelled bad and in the enclosed office it was becoming overpowering. With the heat on, it was something he would never forget.

  “How’s a financial advisor gonna help me spend twenty?” she asked, confused, as she finished one of the many papers. She was so glad she had memorized her social security number. She’d been so pleased to obtain that.

  The man was confused. “Well, I can’t advise or recommend on how you get your money, that’s your decision, but I do recommend to everyone who wins this kind of money,” he gestured to the paperwork and then the lottery logo on the wall, “to get a financial advisor.”

  “I sure don’t need help spending twenty bucks,” she thought as she dug into the second form.

  “We sure aren’t going to want a picture op with this winner,” he was thinking as he looked from her overly tight jeans to the ripped socks and the dirty hair. Normally they did a press conference with an oversized check and the winner holding it up proudly. This one they would pass that grand occurrence. He knew there would be disappointed press, but he had to think of the prestige of winning. This specimen wouldn’t help the sales of tickets.

  It took a long time for her to fill out all the necessary paperwork. Not only was she slow, but she was concise. Her mother had taught her to write when she was very young and her handwriting was impeccable. She did not use it very often, so she took her time making sure it was neat and tidy. The man was surprised to see the impeccable script when he started to peruse the lines. Given her appearance, he was surprised she could even write. He saw she had checked that she wanted one lump sum. He didn’t blame her, most did. A lot of times, the winners could do more with the lump sum than waiting on the annual payments.

  “How long until I get my check?” she asked after she handed him the last form and the pen he had given her—it read Lottery Commission on the side.

  “Oh, we can issue you a check today,” he assured her with a smile. The smell of her was giving him a terrific headache. He couldn’t hurry her though. “Normally it takes two weeks,” he saw the delight vanish from her face; she was looking at him suspiciously now, “but since it’s been two weeks since the lottery, we can issue you a check right away.” The smile returned to her face. Maybe if it were cleaner, she’d be prettier. “We could transfer the money to your account…” he began, but she shook her head.

  “I don’t have an account…” she told him, not wanting to explain she always got paid in cash. She’d always wanted to go to a bank and have an account, but she had no reason to. Cash went a lot further and was easier to spend.

  “Okay, I’ll just put this through, show it to my boss, and we’ll issue you a check. Please stay here,” he thought of the havoc she would create if he let her into the office snack room and then asked, “Can I get you some water, maybe some coffee?”

  “Do you have hot chocolate?” she asked, remembering that night a few weeks back. Six hundred dollars would buy a lot of hot chocolate if she were so inclined.

  “I believe we do. Please wait here.” He quickly left the office to run her social security number as well as the driver’s license number she had put down. He’d seen her remove the card from her sock. He shook his head, glad he hadn’t had to touch it. He wondered what she would look like a month from now, even a week?

  “The winner walked in the office?” his boss popped his head around the office door.

  “Yeah, apparently just this morning,” he showed the paperwork he was faxing down to Madison. It would only take moments and a check could be filled out here in their office.

  “Oh, Janie, could you take our guest a hot chocolate?” he asked as he saw the receptionist walk by.

  “Do I have to?” she whispered hastily.

  “Why, Janie,” gasped the branch manager, angrily.

  “You don’t know what she’s like,” she whispered, but hurried off to do their bidding.

  “What is she like?” he asked, turning as the last of the faxes were sent off to Madison.

  He looked around, making sure they weren’t overheard and whispered, “She’s a street person. She stinks horribly.” He wrinkled his nose for effect.

  “Then this should help her,” he gestured at the ticket he saw filled out and the paperwork that had just been faxed. He saw the social security number had come up on the screen alongside a driver’s license. “Is that her?”

  “Yeah, it matches. Just have to wait on Madison and we’re good to go.”

  “I’ll call the press,” he offered generously.

  “No, we won’t have a press conference. Not with this one.”

  “She refuses?”

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t ask her. Trust me on this, we do not want the press. We’ll release her name and the press will find her address, but nothing more.”

  His boss, trusting his employee’s judgment, just nodded as he looked curiously at the license picture. She didn’t look that bad. He wondered if Janie had been exaggerating, but if his employee said she shouldn’t have a press conference, she might be that bad…a street person, wow.

  It took another half an hour before the authorities in Madison agreed to release the check and they could print the check in their Milwaukee office. As he walked back in the office where Joy was sitting, looking ready to bolt, he smiled at her. “I’m sorry it took so long. I had to fax your paperwork to Madison.”

  “That’s okay,” she tried to sound relaxed, but she was strung tight. All this for six hundred dollars! Many things had gone through her head: they had called the cops on her, this was all a setup of some kind, they were pulling a prank on her.

  “Here you go,” he said with a flourish as he slid the check across the table.

  “What this number here?” she asked, not looking at the check but at the check stub.

  “That’s how much you would have gotten if you had taken the annuity. Remember, I explained that to you,” he said gently, wondering if she were simpleminded and not able to really understand.

  “That’s almost twice as much as…wait, you got the decimal point in the wrong…and the comma’s…wait, what is this?” she asked jumping back from the check as though it was going to burn her. “I didn’t win that much? You’ve made a mistake or something?”

  He smiled at her, seeing the genuine worry that there had been an error. “I promise you there is no mistake. Every dime you have coming to you is in that check. We do not cheat our winners.”

  “How much did I win?” she mused, not realizing she said it aloud as she looked at the numbers.

  “Here, let me show you,” he began, sitting down across the table from her. He named a figure that she just simply couldn’t comprehend. “See if you had taken the annuity, after taxes you would have gotten four hundred eighty-seven million dollars, but because you took the lump sum it’s only three hundred forty-one million seven hundred twenty-six thousand one hundred and seventy-eight dollars and ten cents.” He said it so matter-of-factly that he was sure he was making complete sense to her.

  “What about my six hundred dollars?” she asked in a small voice, feeling cheated.

  “What six hundred dollars?” he asked blankly.

  “The clerk at the store said she couldn’t pay anything over six hundred dollars,” she explained.

  Suddenly he realized she hadn’t known how much she had won. “You didn’t know you won the Powerball?” he asked gently. He wanted to hug her, but her appearance was off-putting. He could see some sort of shock on her face, but she still hadn’t comprehended what he was saying.

  She stared at him unblinking and then glanced at the check and all the numbers. “I won the Powerball?” she asked stupidly, stunned.

  “Yes, Joy, you did,” he said in a kind voice. He realized it would take a while. She had expected, what? Six hundred dollars? She had won the largest payout in Wisconsin’s history. The media was going to storm her at home. He looked askance
at what she was wearing. Did she even have a home anymore? He wondered if the address on her driver’s license would hold up to scrutiny. Still, Madison had okayed the issuance of this check. He was sure it was legitimate.

  She started to tear up, not because of the amount, but because she was suddenly scared. What did this mean? She looked at the amount again uncomprehendingly. She’d never seen those kind of numbers except when she played on a calculator, and even they didn’t go to three digits beyond the second comma. She gulped. After a long time, she finally looked up at the man. “What do I do now?” she asked in a little girl’s voice.

  “Do you have any family you would like to share this with?”

  It was suddenly reminiscent of her hospital stay; she hadn’t anyone to tell then either. She shook her head in answer to his question. Suddenly a thought occurred to her. “Will people know I’ve won this?”

  He nodded. “Wisconsin releases the names of its winners.”

  “There’s no way to keep this quiet?” she suddenly sounded worried.

  He shook his head. “The media is very persistent about things like this. They already know someone in Wisconsin won. They’ve had our office staked out for two weeks.” He had a thought. “How’d you get into the office without seeing them?”

  She shrugged. “I came up the stairwell.”

  That explained why she hadn’t been seen, they’d have been watching the elevators. “I’d suggest you leave the same way,” he advised. “Go to a bank—any bank would be glad to have your business—and open an account. Maybe you might want to buy some new clothes?” he suggested kindly, hesitantly, not sure how she would feel about the suggestion.

  Joy looked down at the check again and then at her clothes. She smiled suddenly, realizing she could buy her own clothes instead of wearing someone’s castoffs. She hadn’t had new clothes in so long…She looked at the check again. “Is this real?”