danmahony.com  

THE LOTTERY TICKET

Will Rike

        It's Thursday morning. I go to the shop for the usual, and to check last night’s lottery numbers. "You can't win if you don't play," says the ad. I remember this because I sometimes forget to buy a ticket. But anyway, I did buy one last night.

        I'm soon at the checkout counter. While I wait on line, I see the lottery numbers posted on an overhead sign. I blink. I read them again. They're my numbers. I know them well because I always play the birthdays of my family. 

        "Where is my ticket?" I ask myself in a moment of panic, but I find it in my wallet. I thank God out loud. I check it carefully: 3,4,15,25,26,28. Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes, Yes! They're all the same as the ones up on the board. All six of them. I alternate between calm and shock, that state of mind when something slowly dawns on you.

        My ticket is suddenly the most important thing in my life. I shove it into my pocket. Then I take it out and keep it in my hand because it could fall out when I pay for the groceries. Then I decide to put it in my wallet, which I do with great care.

        "Four-nineteen," says the checkout girl. I pay the money and wait for the change. She seems to move in slow motion. I fear that she knows about my ticket. I finally leave the store.

        Now the street, I want to scream, "YESSSSS! Oh, my God!" I know the amount I've won because I had heard the radio ads saying this week's jackpot was worth a million-and-half pounds. I tell myself I'll sit down when I get home and think calmly about what to do.

        Finally home, I put the ticket on the table. Then I pick it up and read the back. "THIS TICKET IS A BEARER INSTRUMENT, SO TREAT IT AS IF IT WERE CASH. IT IS THE ONLY VALID PROOF OF A GAME PLAYED. SIGN IMMEDIATELY, KEEP SAFELY." I take those last words to heart. "KEEP SAFELY."

        I ring directory assistance and ask for the lottery office in Dublin. The operator has trouble finding it. "Oh, it's the National Lottery. Three six four double four". Numbers have suddenly become important in my life. I dial 36444. No. I have to start over. 01-36444. The line is busy.

        I try to keep calm. The fear of losing this little piece of paper haunts me. And it's a long way to Dublin on the other side of the country.

        My phone rings. I start to pick it up but suddenly I consider not answering it. I don't want anyone to hear the excitement in my voice. I let it ring. They keep at it. Six, seven, eight rings. They finally stop. My life is becoming different by the minute. I feel power, then freedom, and then fear again. I dial again. Still busy. But this time I'm glad, somehow. I don't want to find out that somehow I haven't won.

        I decide to take a plane not a train, and call Kerry Airport. The next Dublin flight will arrive after the lottery office closes. I'll have to stay overnight. This will clean out my bank account. But I'll never be skint again.

        I spend the next few hours getting ready for my little trip and taking out my last bit of money in the bank. The plane tickets and the hotel bill will pretty much take it all. I'm in a daze.

        As the taxi heads for the airport, I remember a news story about the three hairdressers in America who used to buy lottery tickets together. One day they won. The one who held the ticket called the other two and told them she'd pick them up and they'd all go together to the lottery office. But instead, she went right in, collected the money, and disappeared. At least I don't have anyone else to worry about.

        As I board the plane I feel another surge of power and freedom. It occurs to me that the only reason there is freedom is because the rich have it. There has been nothing like this in my life. But I also mind my wallet in my back pocket. I try to decide what is the very best way to transport my precious piece of paper which reads, "Not responsible for lost or stolen tickets. Void if mutilated, altered, illegible, incomplete or fails any of the National Lottery validation tests".

        My ticket is becoming an obsession. But a justified one, the way I figure it. "There's many a slip 'twixt cup and lip," said Shakespeare. I could be mugged in Dublin and my wallet taken. I try to think of a new place to KEEP it SAFELY. I consider putting it in my shoe, but it could fall out while I walk or become mutilated or illegible. I could keep it in the inner pocket of my jacket. That seems a better idea. I complete the move. But it feels less safe there. Yet I can't think of a better place.

        I arrive at the hotel at about six. I have €30 left. I want to go down to the restaurant in the lobby, but what if there's a pickpocket in the elevator? It's happened before you know. I could hide it here in the room. Good idea. I slip it under the cushion of one of the chairs and head for the elevator after I make sure my room is locked and "Do Not Disturb" is on the doorknob.

        I reach the lobby. KEEP SAFELY. KEEP SAFELY. I go back to my room and check the cushion. It's still there. I simply will not be separated from it. Who knows, a maid could have routinely checked under the cushions knowing that some people hide their valuables there.

        I slump into the chair. I get up and check the envelope under the pillow. I go to the window. A neon sign blinks "KEEP SAFELY. KEEP SAFELY". I feel trapped. I can't go anywhere and I hate staying here. I'm getting depressed.

        Then I remember that there could be more than one winner. I hadn't thought of that. I feel a huge sense of loss. What if there are four winners? Or five? I might only get €250,000 or even less. That seems like a small amount of money now.

        Suddenly, I feel like laughing at the world. No one can order me around now. No, I'll be doing the ordering. I imagine myself standing on my table in the Jamaican restaurant laughing out loud at everybody. "Go back to work," I sneer. What is happening to me? I pray for peaceful sleep. It doesn't come.

        I decide to take a shower. I take it with me into the bathroom and try to figure out where to keep it safely. I can't just leave it in the envelope in the open air. I imagine the numbers floating off in a billow of steam. I put it in my wallet, in the secret compartment, and leave it on the floor near the bathroom door where I can see it from the shower.

        The shower makes me feel a little better and I lie in bed with my 'bearer instrument'. I think of how good it's going to feel not to have to worry about money, even if I have to share it with four other winners. I'm surprised at how quickly I've forgotten what it is like not to be skint. I wonder how I could have lived that way. I finally fall asleep to images of Jamaica.

        It's morning. I wake at with great excitement and relief. My troubles will soon be over. But I must concentrate on the final lap. I get dressed and go down to the lobby with it safely in my jacket pocket. There are no pickpockets in the elevator. I skip coffee and go outside for a cab. There'll be plenty of time for coffee. Jamaican coffee. I feel good again. At last I'll be happy.

        A cab arrives and we are soon in a Dublin traffic jam, but I'm serene. It’s a Jamaican traffic jam on the road to a beach where almond trees are the umbrellas. I don’t like too much sun, but I love Jamaica—on the only real holiday I’ve had. I just never seem to have enough money for another one. But that’s history now. I’m beginning to feel the freedom that only money can buy. I reach into my jacket pocket for reassurance. The lotto ticket is still keeping safely there.

        Finally I'm at the National Lottery office. I ask where to claim my winnings, but I don't say it's the big one. I’m covering every detail now. No point in making a mistake at the last minute. You just never know. I'm directed upstairs. I've taken care of all the details so far, and I'm not going to stop now.

        The woman at the desk asks for my ticket. I am reluctant to give it to her and tell her so. She smiles and assures me that I can let go of it as long as I've signed it. I realize that I haven't signed it! How could I have forgotten to sign it when I had handled so many other details? She hands me a pen. Another little taken care of. "It's SAFE here," she laughs. I ask for her supervisor. I tell her I'm sorry but I have to be sure. I've seen to every detail.

        After a while the supervisor appears. He assures me that it is safe here. I hand over my wonderful ticket that I have kept so safely on our long journey through the night. It's as if it weighs a ton and I have completed a marathon with it on my back. Then I feel a surge of happiness. I'm about to become rich.

        Supervisor looks at my ticket. He looks at the woman. He looks at my ticket again. The confer in whispers. He turns to me. "Sir, this is not a winning ticket".

        I am stunned. "But I saw them posted. All six numbers. I play them all the time".

        "Yes, but these are Saturday's winning numbers. Do you have a ticket for Saturday?"

        "Nnnno," I stutter. "I didn't buy one". Panic comes over me greater than I've ever known. "I saw the numbers posted," I repeat.

        "Well, perhaps they hadn't put up Wednesday's numbers yet, and so you saw the previous Saturday's numbers. In any case, this is not a winning ticket".

        Despair crushes me. It is worse than anything I had feared. Not only did I not win, a crushing blow, but it's even worse than that. My numbers did come up last Saturday and I didn't play!

        "Do you want your ticket back sir?"

        That damned ticket. There is no way I'll ever be able to get rid of it now. I want to tear it in a million pieces, burn it, vaporize it. But it won't make any difference. It will keep safely in my mind forever.

© 2000 danmahony.com