It's a Wonderful Life
Last summer, my two sisters, my mother and I spent about $100 on scratch-off lottery tickets. My mother found out that out of the 5 prizes of four thousand dollars a week for life, three were left, and the game had been going on for a year or two, however long of a time that qualifies as rare in lottery games. They were five dollars apiece, and we drove all over New Jersey for them, looking in small, out of the way convenience stores that might have a roll left. She and I looked up all the stores in our area and farther, and we spent the day after her work driving around.
She had been going to Bishops, this grocery store off the highway to buy them out of a machine, only two or three a day, but the clerk that worked the cigarette and lottery ticket counter said he bought them every break. He knew the secret too. The day we went to buy the rest of them an old lady replaced him at the counter and he was gone, along with the tickets. We figured he won and left the town and his job already, but we kept looking because there could be two left.
We drove to Somerville to a small store that had them and bought too many. We were in a fever. My sisters and I got a few each to scratch off, leaning on the shelves of newspapers, but nothing. We didn't even get a few dollars back. The clerk told us he had regulars who bought them every day. They knew too. I said that was it- we were wasting too much money. Really, I wanted just one more ticket. I had been drawing parallels to Charlie Bucket's golden ticket find all day.
We gave up for a few days. I was in Frenchtown one day with Adam, and he went into the general store next to the gas station for cigarettes. They had the tickets. All along, the place I had passed by so many times, had them. A lot. I told my mother, and we bought half of what they had before we went home. We got 15 dollars back.
The next day we were having company over for some reason, I can't remember why, but before they were due to arrive I had to buy the rest of the tickets. My mother gave me $25 to get them, and I had a feeling about finding it. Once I had the roll in my hand I walked across main street to a park by a river and sat down at a bench. The park was in shadow from the trees around me except for a column of light that was shining on this bench. I was in a movie. I was going to find the winning ticket. My mother wouldn't have to find another job. We could go out to dinner. College wouldn't be impossible to pay for. I could buy that sweater I look at every week at the shop next to Nelson Bridge.
The sweater was gone the next time I looked for it.
