The Lottery Read online

  I’m in my room again. My bed is no longer my bed, but a hospital cot. Jennifer is wearing a cloth ER gown, and holding a bundle of blue blankets against her breast. A man about 20 years younger than me appears next to her. He puts his hand on her shoulder and gives me a wan smile. “You could have done something. You could have been there for this. For me. For her. She had to do this alone.” The tear off calendar on my nightstand reads July 17, 1970, the digital clock 9:58 – the date and time of the birth of my first, and only, child. Jennifer stares at me, still clutching a swaddled baby Robbie to her breast. Forty-seven year old Robert keeps his hand lovingly on her shoulder, his gaze unwavering, delving into my conscience. The numbers cycle through my head: 07-17-19-70-09-58-01.

  ***

  I wake up with a jolt and a head that feels like a pile of bricks. 8:32 AM, the digital clock reads. I groan. I haven’t been late for work in years. I throw on a suit and race down the highway as fast as rush hour will allow, skipping all of my routine and cursing everyone who drives too slowly.

  When I get to my cubicle it seems that no one, not even my supervisor, notices how late I am. I pop three extra-strength painkillers, chug some black coffee, and stare at my keyboard, willing away my hangover.

  Binh passes my desk on his way back from the water cooler. He looks even more tired and zoned out than I do. We make lazy eye contact. “Rager of a party last night?” I ask sarcastically. A beat of confusion crosses his features, but then he catches on. “Oh yeah… guess I shouldn’t have assumed we could have a quick two hour birthday party with toddlers on a weeknight…never again, never again!” He attempts his upbeat enthusiasm from yesterday, but it falls short in his fatigue. He continues walking to IT, like a pensive zombie.

  Watching him trail off I realize that yesterday changed my life. Every day for years I had gone through the same ad hoc routine. My lunch with Binh has marked a departure from my old ways. He might be a gook, but of course this isn’t the first time one of them has changed my life.

  I was just about to Google the winning lotto numbers when all of this passed through my head. I close out the browser and pull up the SAP database, finally starting my real work. I decide: I’m not going to play the numbers anymore. I’m not even going to check to see if I won. I’m going to live normally, without regiment. I’m going to let go of the irony.

  ***

  It’s been strange, the past couple of weeks. Hitting the snooze button, only going to the gym when I feel like it. Trying a breakfast burrito instead of an Egg McMuffin. Finding out that Lean Cuisine is nowhere near as good as Marie Callender’s. I haven’t been to Joe’s Corner Mart since that fateful day. I don’t miss it.

  I see Binh around the office every once in a while. He’s regained his initial energy, skipping around like a hip grasshopper. We nod hello, engage in chit-chat every once in awhile. I haven’t seen him at lunch again. Which is good. I’m still the same person, just no more strict routines. I still like to be by myself, and not stuck with a chatter-box while I try to enjoy my food.

  ***

  After a while I stop seeing Binh completely. Before, I wouldn’t have even known if he had left the job. But ever since our lunch I have been keenly aware of his presence. Doesn’t matter, I think. Probably came down with the flu, or had to take some personal days.

  But days turn into a week, and even after that there is no sign of him. I ask around, but no one can give me a straight answer. Kelly spews some bullshit about the database system having some unfixable bug, and “do you think because of that they laid off some IT guys?” Michael notes: “Well, if it’s anything contagious I’d rather he stay home and not get me sick!” He chuckles as if he’s made some unique quip. And with her usual tight upper lip and professional attitude, Brenda makes a passive aggressive comment: “I don’t concern myself with other people’s affairs and personal lives.”

  To Hell with this place and these people.

  ***

  I can’t find my pistol. I run around the house checking every drawer, cabinet, and closet. I usually have it in a safe in my bedroom, on the top shelf in my closet. But when I looked the safe was filled with mud, jungle brush, and a severed finger. As I race through the hallways, my house becomes my childhood home. I no longer know what leads where, and I open a door to find Pirnie mounting my mother. I slam the door. Race down another hallway. Fly down the stairs. I need to find it. I need to find it. I nearly barrel into her as I round the corner to the kitchen. In one hand, four-year-old Sarah shimmies her plate so that her Rueben doesn’t fall. In the other she carelessly swings a gun. “Found it under Daddy’s pillow.” She gives me a toothy smile and extends my pistol toward me.

  The rest of the night is dreamless.

  ***

  Again, the office is abuzz. But after a night of listless sleep, I hardly care what any of it is about. As I stroll to my cubicle I try my best to ignore Kelly’s chattering, Patrick’s idiotic statements. I throw myself into my utterly boring work, absorbing the data entry, and blocking out as many distractions as possible. For three hours of the day I am nothing but productive. It’s during my second trip to the coffee pot that I’m caught off guard. Brenda – morose, mind-your-own-business, efficiency-machine Brenda – is grinning ear-to-ear and gossiping excitedly with Michael. As I walk past I hear them mention Binh.

  “What about Binh?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself.

  “You haven’t heard?” Brenda is overly tickled at the idea of being the first to share the information with me. It crosses my mind that she might be pissing herself at this very moment. “He won. All five numbers, the powerball, and the powerplay! Can you believe it? Binh won!” She passes me The Philadelphia Inquirer.

  Rosemont family man wins big, thinks small

  ROSEMONT, PA – After rolling over 18 times with no one winning the big prize, the Pennsylvania Lottery Powerball finally has a lucky victor. Binh Nguyen of Rosemont is a husband, father, IT professional, baseball enthusiast, and – now – multimillionaire.

  “It is unreal,” says Nguyen. “I was in a trance at first, brainstorming all of the things I could do with the winnings. Then my wife and I decided we would continue to live our lives normally, but with a little more luxury. We plan on investing heavily in our child’s future, giving to charities, and taking more trips to Vietnam to visit my mother. We want our lives to stay pretty much the same. We’re not flashy people and we never will be.”

  Nguyen says his uncle brought him to America after his mother was widowed and left unable to care for her children during the Vietnam War. As a tribute to his lost father, Nguyen says he played the first part of the sequence to match his father’s birth date: 09-14-19-50 – September 14, 1950. As for the second part of the number string, 02-58-01, Nguyen says it signifies the moment in time that most changed his life – the exact time that his daughter was born: 2:58 AM.

  The jackpot of $623.8 million was the largest in Pennsylvania Powerball history. Nguyen purchased the ticket at Joe’s Corner Mart in Wynnewood, which will receive a $100,000 retailer bonus from the Pennsylvania Lottery. When asked whether he would be accepting his payout in a lump sum or in installments, Nguyen stated that he is as of now undecided, but leaning towards installments.

  Pennsylvania Powerball Drawings air on Wednesday and Saturday nights.

  I drop the newspaper to the floor and clutch the side of Brenda’s cubicle, willing myself not to make a scene.

  ***

  I don’t ask to leave work. After reading the article I sit at my desk for about twenty minutes, shaking. When Larry, the guy in the cubicle next to me, gets up to use the bathroom I reach over the partition and grab his iPhone. I call up Whitepages.com, and sure enough Binh Nguyen of Rosemont comes up. I jot down his address on a Post-It and frantically pack my things. By now most people are at lunch, and anyone who sees me leave will probably th
ink I’m going on break as well. I head home, and for the rest of the day and evening sit in utter silence, staring at the lottery ticket that still rests on my nightstand.

  ***

  I’m sitting in my car, outside of the Nguyen residence, breathing heavily. My clammy hands cradle the silver pistol. I’ve been waiting for over an hour. Finally, the digital clock strikes 2:58 AM and I exit the vehicle. I sneak around to the back door, which is of course unlocked in this quaint Main Line neighborhood. I tip-toe through the Nguyen household in all its Ikea-catalogue normalcy. I head upstairs, cringing at the creaking floorboards that seem to be on every step. I pause at a bedroom door that stands ajar. Peaking inside, I see a tiny figure curled up in a twin bed, covered in a Disney princess comforter. Sarah breathes softly, silent as the dead. Her carpet is covered in Barbie dolls. A playhouse sits in the corner. A teddy bear has fallen from her bed onto the floor. My hands become even sweatier and I start hyperventilating. I try to keep my breaths as quiet as Sarah’s.

  “JJ?” A groggy, confused voice startles me, and I spin around. “What are you – ”

  I fire four shots into Binh’s gut. One. Two. Three. Four.

  He stumbles backwards, falls to the floor.

  Sarah wakes up and makes a noise that isn’t quiet a scream, but is more than a shout.

  I hear Rebecca’s confused, frantic voice coming from the master bedroom and watch as she stumbles round the corner, into the hallway. I fire another shot, and it hits her in the forehead. She goes down instantly.

  Sarah is now fully awake and screaming at the top her lungs. I turn my head to her. “Shut up,” I yell, pointing my pistol at her. She silences and I lower the gun.

  I run down the stairs, out the front door, and into my Chevy as quickly as possible. I rev the engine. I head north as quickly as I dare, never breaking 72 mph for fear of drawing attention to myself and getting pulled over by a cop with nothing better to do.

  Finally, I’m fleeing to Canada.

 

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