The Outsider

by K'Anne Meinel

  “It’s very real.”

  “They aren’t going to question it?”

  “Of course they will. They will also ask for your driver’s license for identification and your social security number. But once you are set up, they will treat you very, very differently,” he assured her. He had never seen a winner act like this. He was sure she was still in shock. “Joy,” he said quietly, wishing he had the guts to reach across the table and grasp those dirty hands of hers, “I suggest you go directly to a bank and open that account. Ask to speak to a manager and he’ll help you. Don’t invest it right away until you have had time to clean up and speak to a financial advisor. You’ve already been hit hard by taxes, which we had to take by federal law. They will try to take more in taxes if you don’t have someone advising you.”

  Suddenly Joy looked determined. They weren’t going to take any more than she would let them! Oh God, she looked at the amounts one more time, one in numbers, the other written out. Maybe she should have taken the annuity, but the thought that the lottery might run out of money had frightened her. The sum of money left in the lump amount took her breath away. She read it one more time. Three hundred forty-one million seven hundred twenty-six thousand one hundred and seventy-eight dollars and ten cents. It was in numbers on one line and spelled out on the second line. The number line also had her name and a small, ‘Pay to the order of: Joy Parker.’ She stared at it a long time, sure it was a mistake, but the man across the desk from her never took it back.

  “I suppose I should go,” she finally said after a while.

  “Please, Joy, go to a bank and put that in an account in your name,” he urged her, not knowing what other advice he could really give her.

  She nodded numbly. “Thank you,” she said softly as she gently folded the check into three sections then in half and stuffed it unceremoniously in her front pocket. She didn’t notice as he winced.

  “These are your copies of everything you filled out,” he slid some papers across the desk. “You’ll want to give them to an accountant or a financial advisor. You may even want to show them at the bank.”

  She nodded as she folded them all at once into a tri-fold and then in half again. These she shoved into the back pocket of her jeans. She smiled at him, a little girl’s smile, showing a smudge of hot chocolate on her lip. He showed her out, wondering just how long that money would last and shaking his head sadly.

  “She really won?” Janie asked quietly as the door shut behind the filthy woman.

  “She really won,” he said with such finality that she had to accept it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Joy made her way down the stairs, the same way she had come. Some people were sitting by the elevators, some with big cameras, and she wondered who they were waiting for. She was left alone, mostly because of her appearance, but also because she smelled. She took care on the steps. One slip and she’d be back at the hospital. She knew she’d have to pay this time if they knew she had money. She thought perhaps there had been a mistake, but that man had been so sure. She had papers to prove it was her money. She was not going to let any more taxes be taken if she could help it!

  As she came down the last set of stairs she was panting slightly, feeling a little bit of perspiration. That was never good when going out in the cold. It was snowing again and she sighed. She’d liked being warm for so long a time up in the office on the fifth floor.

  “Did you find it?” the security guard recognized her. He smiled at her cheerfully.

  “I did, thank you,” she smiled shyly in return and bobbed her head. She was about to head out onto Wisconsin Avenue when she had a thought and looked back at the guard. “Can you recommend a bank?”

  “There’s a couple down the street,” he gestured down the avenue, “but the biggest is First U.S. Bank in the old First Wisconsin building…that big tall white building on the lake?” he asked it as though it were a question, but she remembered taking a trip there with her parents once to the top floor to look out over the lake. Maybe she would do that again someday.

  “Thank you,” she said politely and made her way out into the cold.

  The cold was what drove her. It was too long a walk to the old First Wisconsin bank, now the First U.S. Bank So she went into the very first bank she came to. Its marble floors and columns intimidated her at first and she saw people shy away from her. She knew what she looked like, she had seen her reflection in the windows before she ended up walking boldly into this bank.

  As she got into line for a teller, she could hear murmurs around her. People were trying to be quiet, whispering, but she could see out beyond her long, stringy hair that some were pointing, one even pulled her child closer to her. They didn’t want to be near this stinky, unbathed, and unclean person. Slowly, the line moved up. The gap between Joy and the person behind her was quite wide, but she pretended not to notice. Finally, it was her turn.

  “Yes, can I help you?” the teller asked her politely, looking her straight in the eye, trying not to notice her disheveled appearance.

  “I’d like to open an account,” Joy said quietly, almost in a whisper, feeling very self-conscious in this intimidating atmosphere. Usually she didn’t care what people thought about her. Most people didn’t see street people anyway and she hadn’t minded that.

  The woman smiled at her and quickly pulled out some paperwork. “We will need to fill out some paperwork,” she said brightly, secretly wondering if the girl would know how.

  “I was told to ask for the manager because of what would be involved,” Joy said, using her best diction and trying not to use slang. She desperately wanted to rub her nose, but couldn’t remember if her face was clean or not when she had looked at her reflection. She glanced down at the hand she was going to use and rethought the rub. It was not quite…clean.

  The teller didn’t seem surprised at her request. She sweetly said, “I’ll be right back then.” As she turned around, she blinked rapidly to clear her eyes from trying not to tear up at the smell that radiated from the girl. She didn’t judge her though, even some of their best customers didn’t always shave or use deodorant. She went through a side office and said, “Mr. Mueller, a customer asking for you?”

  The man looked up from papers he was sorting. “Should you show her in or should I…?” he left the question unfinished so she could let him know which way to treat the customer…in private or public.

  “I think you will want to meet her out here, sir,” she said meaningfully, but didn’t elaborate, it really was not her place.

  He looked at her, waited a moment, and then putting a folder over the papers, got up from the desk. Pasting his customer service smile on his face, he didn’t let if falter as the bank teller directed him to her line. He could see the shabbily-dressed young woman waiting uncomfortably behind the counter. She was fidgeting, looking like she wanted to chew on her nail, but as she raised her hand he could see her hand was not clean. “Hello, I’m Mr. Mueller, the bank manager. You asked to see me?” he said cheerfully, hoping she would hurry as the smell had just hit his nostrils. He swallowed, his throat working painfully, but he kept his smile.

  “Um, I have this,” she reached in the tight jeans and removed the folded check, putting it on the counter. “I was told to ask for the manager and say that I wanted to open an account,” she explained.

  “Well, Betsy here can help you open your…” he began as he unfolded the check. Betsy looked over his arm to see the amount and her breath caught. His carefully plastered smile slipped as he read the amount. “Is this for real?” he asked as he looked up at the young woman, his eyebrows beetling in concern.

  “Well, they also gave me this,” she pulled the other papers from her back pocket. “I had to fill out a lot of forms to get that,” she pointed at the check he was now holding in his hand. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything funny with it. She saw the look on his face. “Oh, man, he’s going to tell me it’s fake and this is some kind of joke,” she thought to
herself and her heart began to beat painfully in her chest. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep from shaking.

  He read through the paperwork quickly, seeing it was stamped with the state seal. He gulped, this time not over the smell, but over the amount. He looked up suddenly and said, “Yes, Ms. Parker, this is in order. Come with me,” he gestured her around the counter. “I’ll take care of this personally.” He turned to Betsy and said, “Could you give me a couple of new account slips?” he asked, sounding very professional. Inside he was quaking, he could feel himself starting to sweat. He smiled as she handed him the slips, looking at him like, “Oh, my gawd,” and then turned away quickly to help another customer. He smiled again at Joy Parker and gestured her behind the counter with a come-hither motion of his hand. “This way, Ms. Parker,” he gestured to his office. He saw that several people were looking curiously at why he was treating this customer with a personal touch. If they only knew…

  “Now then, Ms. Parker. I have the feeling the newspapers are going to make you very, very famous shortly,” he smiled again as he held a chair for her to sit down, clearly indicating she should take it.

  Joy was not used to being treated so courteously. She sat on the edge of the chair, keeping her back perfectly erect as her mother had taught her when she was a child. She looked down and saw some stain on her jeans, something that had smooshed on the material, probably from the dumpster. She gulped, trying not to think what it could be. “Do they have to know?” she asked quietly.

  “You don’t want them to know?” he asked as he took his own seat across the desk from her.

  “I’d rather they didn’t, but the guy at the lottery said Wisconsin discloses it,” she sounded resigned about it, but not happy at all.

  “Well, I assure you, we will be most discreet,” he told her as he began to copy the information from the check and the paperwork he was still holding. Once he had filled it all in, he handed the papers back to her. “Joy, could I see your driver’s license please?” he asked, courteously, the silence becoming a little bit uncomfortable for him. The smell in his office was a bit overwhelming; he swallowed repeatedly. He watched as she pulled her leg up over her opposite knee and peeled down her sock, removing the plastic card and putting it on the desk. He noticed she was careful not to let their hands touch as he reached for it. He verified the information matched, copied the driver’s license number, and then slid the card back to her. “Now, I think we should open two accounts for you. A savings account for the bulk of this,” he gestured at the rather large check on his desk, wondering if he had ever seen so many digits as he licked his lips, “and a checking account for things you would like to buy. I can issue a credit card to you against the checking account today.”

  Joy looked at him, wondering if this was a wise idea. She bit her lip as she thought it over. “This credit card, it takes the money directly from the checking account?”

  “No, that’s a debit card. We can issue one of both to a depositor such as yourself,” he explained.

  “But I can get my money either way and pay this credit card from the checking account?” she asked suspiciously.

  “Yes, that’s right,” he said gently, realizing that this young woman probably had never had to deal with money. Her appearance told him a lot and he didn’t want to scare her off. Having her account in their bank was a real coup and his superiors were going to be over the moon. Handling this carefully would ensure the funds stayed within their bank. He didn’t know her plans, but he didn’t want to frighten her. “Now, based on your account,” he indicated the check again, “we can give you a regular credit card too. That will help your credit for future purchases,” he smiled a self-deprecating little smile and attempted a laugh, “although I don’t think you will ever need credit again.”

  Joy smiled, relieved that he too thought the money was real. She was squeezing her hands together tightly between her knees; they were sweating and she wanted to shake. Her mother would have wanted her to keep her poise. She missed her mother horribly at this moment. She wanted someone to hold her and help her make these important decisions. Trying to think of something intelligent to say she asked, “What’s to keep someone from taking that credit card and using up all the money in that account?”

  “Well, we will put a limit on it if you wish, and if you have any large purchases you can write a check.” He waited a moment before asking her carefully, “Do you know how to write a check or do you need me to show you?”

  Joy looked up at him through her hair and smiled. She understood his concern. Before she had to leave school, they had taught them how to do that. She nodded. “Yes, I know how,” she said in a small girl’s voice. The enormity of this was beginning to get to her. She really wanted to tap her foot up and down, but kept herself tightly under control.

  He looked down at his paperwork again. “I need your social security number. Do you have one?” He was pleasantly surprised and very pleased when she spoke right up, giving him nine digits in a sing-song voice as though it were memorized. He could see she was tightly under control. “Ms. Parker, I’m going to make a phone call to verify this check and then I’ll enter all this in the computer for you and get that checkbook and credit card for you. While I’m doing that, do you need anything? Water? Coffee?”

  “Do you have hot chocolate?” she asked, her stomach growling.

  “Yes, and I do believe we have some Danish or something in the office,” he indicated another room. He lowered his voice. “Ms. Parker, can I get you anything else? Perhaps you would like us to help you?”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly feeling defensive and a little afraid of what he might be suggesting.

  “I’m sure you will want to spend some of this today,” he indicated the check again and then thought of how to help her and be discreet about it. “You probably won’t be accepted in most stores without cleaning up a bit, and you’ll want to go to a hotel.”

  Joy thought over what he had just said and realized he was correct. Most hotels wouldn’t let her into their rooms in the state she was in. Showering would be useless without a change of clothes. She looked down at herself, realizing for the first time that she stank. “Is it possible someone can get me a shirt, maybe some jeans?” she asked in her small voice. She bit her lip again, hiding under her greasy hair.

  “How about I have Betsy get your sizes and she can pick you up a few things?” he offered generously. If this turned out to be some sort of gag, the check a fake, they would have at least done a good deed. He’d pay for it out of his own pocket if he had to. He looked at the check again and the official seal. He didn’t think it was fake. He hoped it was not fake.

  She nodded slightly and then jumped when he got up. He took her check with him as he left. She glanced behind her to see him lean in and talk to the woman who had waited on her. The woman, Betsy, nodded and then closed out her line and locked her cash drawer, making her way to Mr. Mueller’s office. Joy lost sight of Mr. Mueller just then as the woman filled the doorway.

  “Hello, Ms. Parker. If you’ll tell me your sizes, I’ll go get you a change of clothes,” she said in a chirpy voice that annoyed Joy.

  Joy told her what she remembered from the last time she had been able to buy clothes with her wages. The woman wrote them down and asked, “Is there anything special you want me to get you?”

  “Like what?”

  “A special shampoo? Toothpaste? Conditioner? Soap? They’ll have all that in the hotel, but I thought maybe you might want one of your favorites?”

  Joy shook her head, not remembering buying anything but the cheapest in a long time. The dollar store brand worked okay and she’d used it when she tended bar. It got her clean, but was nothing special.

  “Okay, I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, wanting to hug the poor girl, but the smell forbade that. Still, she had her orders and Mr. Mueller had told her to be quick.

  Joy was left alone in the office. She let her nervousness break
through, her foot joggling up and down. Her hands were shaking once she released them from between her knees. It seemed to take a long time before Mr. Mueller came back and by then Joy was ready to bolt from the room, money or not. She didn’t believe it. It was not real. She shouldn’t have let her hopes go up for even an instant. It was a horrible mistake. It was a prank, the haves taking advantage of the have-nots. She knew she didn’t deserve it. The fates weren’t this kind to people like her. She deserved to fall asleep in an alleyway and freeze to death. She…jumped as Mr. Mueller came back in the office carrying a cup of what smelled like hot chocolate.

  “Everything is in order,” he said in a breezy let’s be friends voice. “I’ve verified with the lottery board that this is legitimate,” he indicated the check. “I’ve entered the information in our computer.” He smiled as he came around his desk, handed her the cup, and sat down. “I just need you to sign the back of this check and we are good to go,” he told her and slid the check across the desk a final time and handed her a pen.

  Joy took the pen. “Where do I sign?” she asked, trying to sound like it was a reasonable question.

  “Just on the check itself. You pull it from the stub here,” he showed her the serrated edge and bent the paper, perforating it, nearly severing it as he bent it back and forth, and then pulling gently so it ripped on the correct spot. The sound of it tearing away was loud in the office and Joy flinched. “Right here,” he indicated the line on the back of the check. “Sign it the same way the check is made out on the front.”

  For a moment, Joy thought he had ripped the check and the scare it had given her caused her beating heart to take a jump. Joy checked that they had her full name, Joy Louise Parker, and with a small, shaking hand carefully signed the back of the check. She wondered briefly as she signed Parker what would happen if she screwed up now. She was done and relieved. She took the cup in her shaking hand, grateful for the warmth, and sipped carefully.