The Winner

 

     Edward Hull stepped into the front hall and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Honey,” he called up the stairs,” did you pay the mortgage?” There was no response, only the wail of their two-year-old, Emily.

     “Julie?” he called again.

     “Yeah?” Julie yelled from one of the upstairs bedrooms.

     Ed closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Did you pay the mortgage?”

     “No, it’s auto deducted from our account now. Today or tomorrow.”

     He whispered, “Jesus Christ,” and cupped his hand again. “Do we have enough in there to cover it?”

     He heard Mary, the four-year-old, begin to cry. 

     “Yeah, I borrowed money from one of the credit cards,” Julie shouted over the girls’ crying.

     Ed sighed and shook his head. “Okay, I’m going. Are you okay?”

     “Yeah, I’m alright,” came Julie’s strained reply. Ed grabbed his briefcase and lunch bag and hurried out the back door. A chilly wind greeted him. Winter was moving in early. He buttoned his coat and got in the car. He turned the key: the engine coughed and sputtered to life. He leaned forward and listened. Overdue for a tune-up. So, the car needs work, it’s almost winter, oil prices are rising, and Julie took out a cash advance from one of their credit cards to cover the mortgage. Again.

     “Jesus Fucking Christ”, he muttered as he backed out of the driveway and headed down the street. Lately, he had taken to venting his anger from behind the wheel. “So, a credit card loan you say. What’s the interest on this one? You don’t even know, do you?” He snapped the radio on. Classic rock filled the car. They needed to talk, maybe that night. It wasn’t healthy to bottle his anger, and he had plenty to be angry about. “We’re in a financial crisis, honey. Do you realize that? You’re the bookkeeper, you should know. Instead, you just keep racking up debt. And you want to hire someone to renovate the bathroom?”

     He turned onto a familiar entrance ramp and climbed up to the highway. Bumper to bumper traffic stretched to the horizon. “Ah, hell,” he said, tapping the brakes. He edged in between two cars and took a deep breath. He thought of their daughters. They were bright spots - without them, the marriage would be severely tested. Even with the children, it was a daily trial. Money was the biggest issue, but that wasn’t all. In recent years, sex with Julie had taken on the monotony of a recurring Monday morning business meeting. Ed had never been unfaithful, but he often wondered whether he would be able to resist the temptation. His anger slowly dissipated, and he fell into a radio-induced semi-trance as he guided the car, stop-and-go, toward the office. 

     Traffic eased and within the hour he was pulling into the wind-swept parking lot, his office tower gleaming in the distance. Once inside the lobby, he perked up. The lobby was expansive with a vaulted glass ceiling and several shops and eateries along the walls. People streamed through on their way to work and pretty women were a common sight. As he headed toward the elevators, he looked across and saw in the window of a convenience store a sign that announced in large block letters: $10 MILL JACKPOT TONIGHT. He hesitated. A slim blonde woman walked into the store. He walked over, stepped inside, and pretended to browse the newspapers as he snuck peeks at the blonde as she browsed greeting cards. He watched her pick out a card and take it to the counter. Probably for her husband. He looked closer: sure enough, there was a wedding band on the ring finger of her left hand. Then she was gone. Ed glanced at the lottery sign. The clerk, an Indian man with a thick mustache, said, “Play lottery? Win big maybe?”

     Ed opened his wallet: empty. “Yeah,” he said as he picked up a blank lottery slip and folded it into his pocket. “I’ll be back later.”

     He exited the store and walked across the lobby to an ATM machine. He inserted his debit card, entered his PIN and selected Fast Cash - $60. The machine went to work. He pictured the tiny electric signal speeding through miles of wire cable to the bank where Julie and he had a joint checking account, verifying the account balance, and sending back the approval for withdrawal. Today, however, the machine took a few beats too long. It hummed, spit out a slip of paper and ejected his bank card with a loud beep.  “What the hell?” Ed said, snapping up the paper slip. It read: Insufficient funds.

     “Jesus F-“. He caught himself, crumpled the receipt and threw it into a trash bin. His mind was stainless steel as he rode the elevator up to his floor, marched to his cubicle, logged onto his computer and opened the internet browser. A few mouse clicks later, and he was staring at a - $366.60. deficit in their joint account.  

     “Unbelievable,” he said, reaching for his cellphone and auto dialing a number.

     “Hello?” Her familiar soft voice tempered his anger.

     “Hey,” he said.                                            

     “Hey, what’s up?”

     He hunched over. “The mortgage hit overnight, and our checking account is over three hundred dollars in the red,” he said in a hushed tone.  

     “Oh, okay. I’ll transfer more money to cover it.”

     “How did this happen?”

     “I don’t know. I did the bills last week and we looked good. Something else must have come through that I didn’t account for. I’ll take a look today.”

     “This is a hell of a way to live,” he said.

     “I’m sorry,” she said. “Do you want to do the bills?”                                  

     He wanted to say, you’re damn right I do, if you can’t handle it, but instead he took a deep breath and said, “I didn’t mean it that way.” She didn’t reply. “How’s the job search going?” he asked.

     “Oh, so-so. There’s just nothing out there at my level and I don’t want to compete for a job that’s below me.”

     You might have no choice, he thought. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll figure it out.”

     “Yup, I’ll see you tonight.”

     “Alright, love you.”

     “Love you, too” she said.      

     He hung up and put a clenched fist to his mouth. Unbelievable. Their checking account was in the red and they had to borrow more cash from a credit card at God knows what interest rate to cover it. The anger was welling back up. He took the lottery slip out of his pocket and picked up a pen. Ten million dollars. He gripped the pen tightly, gritted his teeth and spat: “I would sell my soul to the devil to win this jackpot!”  

     He cringed, surprised by how loudly he had spoken. Slowly, he stood and peered over the cubicle wall: a few colleagues were nearby, staring at their computer monitors. Apparently, no one had heard him. He sat down and looked at the first box of numbers on the lottery slip. They were neatly laid out from 1 to 46, each one distinct, yet wholly indistinguishable for the task at hand. Ed contemplated the numbers. The incredible odds of winning occurred to him. Then an interesting thing happened: six of the numbers slowly stood out in bold as the remaining numbers faded into the background. The white noise of the office also faded. Ed stared. The six numbers stared back. He felt locked in the moment and only an action on his part could set him free. He quickly blotted the six numbers with the pen and exhaled deeply. The office noise rose back up and all the numbers on the lottery slip returned to normalcy, save the six he had blackened. They were: 2, 6, 9, 10, 18, and 37. “That was strange,” he whispered. He quickly folded the slip into his breast pocket, turned to his computer and settled into the workday.

     At lunch time, he went down to the cafeteria and ate by himself, as usual. He then went for a walk, following the paved path along the river with his collar pulled up around his neck, for it was cold out. He passed a few other solitary walkers and then he was on his own, braving the wind and walking all the way to where the pavement stopped abruptly at a chain link fence. He turned and leaned against the railing that ran alongside the path and looked out over the river at the buildings on the other side.

     It was then that he felt someone was watching him. He turned. A stand of mature arbor vitae stretched along the opposite side of the path. It was plausible that someone was hiding behind the trees, a mugger perhaps. Don’t be ridiculous, he thought, turning back to the river. He started tracking the progress of a tugboat chugging upstream.  Suddenly, the hair on the back of his head stood on end. He spun around and stared at the wall of green. He looked to his left – two people were far down the path but coming his way. He glanced once more at the mute stand of trees and walked quickly back the way he had come, looking once over his shoulder. When he passed the two walkers he greeted them with undue exuberance. They smiled politely and continued.

The office tower was in sight. He headed for the revolving doors like a child running into a parent’s arms.

     He returned to his cubicle and got back to work. After a while he stood to stretch and was surprised to see that it was already dark outside. The clocks had been turned back an hour the week before for daylight saving time and he was still adjusting to the earlier sunsets. He peeked into his breast pocket: the lottery slip was still there. He thought about the strange experience that morning while filling in the six numbered circles, and of the feeling that he was being watched during his lunchtime walk. He concluded that it was all due to the stress of his work, Julie’s lack of work, and their strained finances. Julie had gotten a prescription for Xanax soon after losing her job; when he got home, he would see if she had any left.

     He put on his coat, turned off the computer and walked to the elevators, wishing some colleagues a nice weekend along the way. On the way down, he patted the slip in his pocket. He had a curious desire, a need to turn in the lottery slip, to bring closure to the day’s strange events.

     The lobby was swarming with people. He looked across at the convenience store, the $10 MILL JACKPOT TONIGHT sign in the window. He took the slip from his breast pocket and headed over, falling in behind a shapely brunette wrapped in a long, wool coat. He was visualizing the body that moved under the coat when he became aware of a short, plump man walking in his place. Ed kept moving, but the man was quite close and looking up at him. Ed stopped and faced him.

     “You’re gonna do it, then?” the man asked in a raspy voice.

     “Excuse me?” Ed replied.

     “Complete the transaction,” the man said.

     “Transaction?” Ed said. “I think you’re mistaking me for someone else.”

     The little man grinned and his eyes danced. “No mistake, my friend. We just wanted to touch base to be sure you understand the terms of the agreement.”

     Ed sized the man up: he was bald except for a fringe of white hair around the base of his skull, and he wore a three-piece wool suit that was out of fashion. What struck Ed most were the man’s eyes: piercing eyes that made Ed want to look away. Surely this man had nothing to do with the strange occurrences earlier that day. Yet a familiar sense of detachment came over Ed: the din of the lobby faded, and the people streaming past began to blur. Only the odd little man stayed in focus. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ed said. “I have to go.”

     “Of course you do - know what I’m talking about, that is,” the man said, leaning closer. “You agreed to sell your soul to the devil in exchange for a winning lottery ticket, which happens to be in the amount of ten million dollars. Well, your offer has been accepted. Now, it is up to you to complete the transaction. You are at a crossroads, and the path forward is yours to choose. But remember,” the man said, raising his index finger for emphasis, “this deal is irrevocable. Any questions?”

     Ed let out a short laugh and looked away. “No questions,” he said.

     “Very well, regards,” the man said. He gave a quick nod and hurried off through the crowd.  

     Ed leaned against a pillar and took several deep breaths. His head slowly cleared, and the bustle of the lobby rose back up around him. How very strange, he thought. He looked around – the little man was nowhere to be seen. The absurdity of the encounter made Ed wonder if it had been a hallucination. Or maybe the man simply possessed a sick sense of humor, had guessed that Ed was on his way to buy a lottery ticket, and decided to mess with his head. He walked slowly to the card shop. At the entrance, he paused and looked at the slip in his hand: there was no detectable pattern to the six blackened squares, no omen to be deciphered. As he entered the store and handed the lottery slip to the clerk, he thought: If I win this thing, I’m gonna find the best psychiatrist in the world.  

​

     Emily, their two-year-old, was having a tantrum on the kitchen floor when Ed walked in through the back door. “Cheer up, Em,” he said. “Daddy’s home.”

     “She wanted to play with the scissors,” Julie said, not turning from the stove where she was stirring something in a pot. Ed put down his briefcase and hoisted Emily into the crook of his arm. Her crying subsided to snuffles. There was a baby bottle of milk on the hutch. He handed it to Emily; she plugged it into her mouth and began siphoning.

     “Oh God, thank you,” Julie said. Ed laughed, walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He peeked in the dining room: Mary, their four-year-old, was at the table with a coloring book and crayons. He went in and sat Emily next to her sister.

     “Stay put,” he said, “dinner is on the way.” He went upstairs, placed the lottery ticket in his top dresser drawer and went into the bathroom. On the top shelf of the medicine cabinet was an amber plastic vial with a white cap. He snatched it up and looked at the label: Xanax. He popped open the lid; there were about a dozen pills inside. He popped one in his mouth and swallowed it with a cup of water.

 

     The sedative began taking effect midway through dinner, creeping through his brain like an octopus, its tentacles soothing to the touch. By the time he crumpled his napkin and dropped it onto his plate, he was able to revisit the day’s happenings from a warmed perspective. It certainly had been a strange day, especially the run-in with that portly, little fellow. Ed looked across the table at Julie. Maybe she could provide some insight.

     “Have you ever had an experience that was so surreal you weren’t sure it really happened?” he asked.

     Julie frowned. “Yeah, sure,” she said, brightening. “When my boss called me into her office to tell me that I was being laid off, that was so unexpected, I was in this numb, swirling fog for several hours.”

     “What is laid off?” Mary asked.

     “It’s not being allowed to work anymore,” Julie said flatly. “Or how about the time you pulled my skirt down on 5th Avenue, Mary? Do you remember that? It was so embarrassing that I went into minor shock.”

     “I didn’t do that,” Mary said.

     “Oh, yes you did,” Julie said, giving Mary a tickle. Julie sat back and drained her glass of wine. She studied Ed. “That’s not what you mean, though, is it?”

     “No, not quite,” Ed said.

     “What happened, then?” Julie asked.

     “Oh, some weird guy was hassling me in the lobby of my building today.”

     “Like asking for money?” Julie asked.

     “Yeah, it was about money. The thing was, he acted like he knew me, and he had these crazy eyes…” Ed stopped, not wanting to spook the children.

     “Oh, sure, they’re always your best friend when they want you to give them some money.” Julie rose and started clearing the table. “And there’s no shortage of wackos running around out there. They can ruin anyone’s day. I wouldn’t take it personally.” She walked into the kitchen and started rinsing the dishes.

     “What’s a wacko?” Mary asked.

     “A crazy person,” Ed said.

     “Like Emily?’ Mary asked.

     Ed looked at Emily – she was smearing yogurt on her face. “Definitely like Emily,” Ed said. He stretched his arms and clasped them behind his head. “No, you’re right about that,” he called to Julie. “They’re a dime a dozen.” It occurred to him that Julie might consider him a wacko if he told her what had really happened at the office that day. He yawned and looked at his daughters. “What do you two say we call it an early night tonight?”

 

     It was Ed’s turn to read bedtime stories. He sat in a rocker in his pajamas and robe, three children’s books in his lap. The girls were snuggled in their single beds on each side of him. Halfway through the second book he started nodding out and speaking gibberish. “Wake up, daddy,” Mary said. “You’re not making sense.” Ed sat up, shook his head several times, and plowed through the books. “Okay, lights out,” he said. To his amusement, both girls were asleep. He checked the time on his cellphone: 10:25 PM. He turned out the light and quietly left the room. The television was on downstairs. That meant Julie was on the couch in the TV room. Usually, he would join her for a few minutes to watch whatever she was watching, but on this night the soporific effect of the Xanax drove him straight to the bedroom. As he slipped under the covers, he considered waiting up for the 11 o’clock lottery drawing. Within moments, he was asleep.  

     It was a dreamless sleep, and he awoke to his daughter Emily’s smiling face a few inches from his own, the morning light streaming through the window blinds behind her. “Wake up, daddy,” she said.

     Ed smiled and rubbed her head. “Hello, muffin.” He sat up. Julie was gone, the covers on her side pulled back. He picked up his cellphone from the bedside table: 8:48 AM. He took stock of himself: he was a little bleary-eyed but felt well rested. Emily was trying to climb onto the bed. “Whoa, wrong idea. Daddy is getting out of bed.” He threw back the covers, stood, put on his bathrobe and slippers, and hoisted Emily into the crook of his arm. “What is it you want?” he asked.

     “Ba-ba.”

     “Okay, let daddy do his bathroom thing, and then we’ll get you a bottle.” He put her down in the hallway, stepped into the bathroom, and closed the door. He relieved himself, brushed his teeth, and peered into the mirror. Nothing different there. He turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on his face. He looked out the window. In the light of a new morning, the unusual happenings of the previous day seemed more bizarre than ever. Surely that guy was just some crackpot. That said, it was time to check the winning numbers and put the matter to rest.

     “Daddy, what’s taking you?” Emily called from the other side of the door.

     “Here I come,” Ed called. He looked again in the mirror, gave his reflection a fist pump, and opened the bathroom door. Emily was standing there. “Ahh!” he yelled, feigning surprise. She laughed. “Come on, little one,” he said. He picked her up and carried her downstairs. Julie was mixing pancake batter beside the stove and Mary was drawing at the kitchen table.

     “Good morning,” Ed said.

     “Morning, love,” Julie replied. They kissed. “You sure slept,” she said as she turned a flame on under an iron skillet. 

     “Yeah, long week I guess.” Ed said. He lowered Emily onto the chair next to Mary, prepared a bottle of milk and handed it to her. She instantly started nursing the bottle as she watched Mary draw a horse. He poured a cup of coffee, shuffled into the dining room, and stepped up to a window. The newspaper was on the front walk, its plastic sleeve flapping in the wind. Ed stared. He had left his cellphone upstairs, but the winning numbers, he knew, were on Page 2 of the paper. The image of the strange man in the office lobby the day before flashed through his mind. Those knowing eyes.

     “Balderdash,” Ed whispered. He strode into the hall and opened the front door. The morning air tasted of winter. He hurried down the steps and snatched up the newspaper. It felt heavy for the Saturday edition. He went back inside, pulled the paper from its sleeve and dropped it onto the dining room table. He tried to browse the headlines, but it was no use. He quickly flipped the page and stared.

     In the kitchen, a quarrel erupted between the two girls. “Give it to me!” Mary screamed.

     “I want to draw, too!” Emily screamed back. Ed flipped the paper back to page 1, turned and walked into the kitchen. His heart was pounding. Mary was trying to take a crayon that Emily had clutched in her hand. “Give it to me!” Mary yelled again.

     “It doesn’t matter,” Ed said. In a flurry, he pried the crayon from Emily’s hand and picked up the coloring book and all the crayons. Emily started to cry.

     “Easy,” Julie said from the stove.

     “Fine,” Ed said, dropping the coloring book and crayons back on the table.

     As he walked back to the dining room, Julie gave him a hard look. “Come on, girls,” she said as she flipped the last pancake onto a platter. “Breakfast is ready. You can both color later.” Emily quieted down and both girls followed their mother to the dining room. Julie set the platter on the table and forked two pancakes onto each plate. While she helped the girls with the butter and syrup, Ed stared at his steaming pancakes. He had no appetite.

     Julie sat down. She was frowning at him. “You okay?” she whispered. 

     He nodded. “I’m fine.”

     “Okay,” she said, but she didn’t look convinced. She took a bite of her pancake and drank some coffee. “Oh good, you got the paper,” she said. She started browsing the front page. “God, the headlines are so depressing these days.” She pushed the first section toward Ed and turned to Arts and Entertainment.

     Ed stared at the front page of the newspaper. He started reading one of the stories, but the words began to blur. “Be right back,” he said. He went upstairs and retrieved the lottery ticket from his dresser drawer, making a point of not looking at the numbers. On the way back down the stairs, he slipped and grabbed the railing to keep from wiping out. Recovering, he stepped into the dining room, sat down and furtively glanced at the lottery ticket under the table. He flipped the front page of the newspaper. His eyes darted back and forth several times between ticket and paper. He turned and stared out the window. A jogger shuffled past. He placed the lottery ticket on the table and stood. Feeling lightheaded, he went into the kitchen and out the back door. He stumbled down the back steps, bent over, hands on knees, and gulped air like water. He took several deep breaths and slowly stood up straight. The dizziness was gone. The ticket! He ran back inside and through the kitchen. At the dining room door, he stopped. He was too late: Julie was holding the lottery ticket at arm’s length, her head moving back and forth from ticket to newspaper. She looked up, eyes wide. “Is this for real?” she asked.

     “I think so,” Ed said.

     Julie jumped up with a shriek and hugged him. “Oh, my God!” she said. “Oh, my God!”

     The two girls stared. “What is it, mommy?” Mary asked.

     “Girls, your daddy just hit the jackpot!”

     “Yay, daddy,” Emily said.

     “What did you win, daddy?” Mary asked.

     “A lot of money,” Ed said, and then he fainted.

 

     When he awoke, he saw only white, and then he realized he was looking up at the dining room ceiling. Julie hovered into view. “Oh, honey,” she said, “are you okay?” He looked around. He was on the floor with a blanket over him. Julie was kneeling by his side, swathing his head with a warm, damp cloth. Mary and Emily were nearby, looking scared.

     “Come here, girls. Give me a hug.” He sat up and both girls ran over and jumped on him.

     “Hey, easy!” Julie said.

     Ed laughed. “It’s okay,” he said. 

     “I’m calling 9-11,” she said.

     “No, don’t. I’m okay. It was just a start. I’m okay now.”

     “Oh, thank God,” she said, hugging him. “Okay, let daddy up.” The girls stepped back, and Ed slowly stood. Julie was beaming.

     Ed saw the newspaper open to page 2, and he felt dizzy again. “I think maybe I should lie down,” he said. “This is a lot to process.”

     “Of course,” Julie said. “Girls, daddy’s gonna lie down, and you two are gonna help me with the dishes.” The girls nodded, still confused and a little frightened.

     “Do you want help getting upstairs?” Julie asked.

     “No, I got it,” Ed said. “Just for a few minutes.” He turned and walked up the stairs, holding the railing. In the bedroom, he looked in the mirror over Julie’s dresser. He was pale, his eyes troubled. “Just a little lie-down,” he said to his reflection. “Then I’ll sort this out.” He turned and rolled onto the bed.

 

     Again, he awoke to a white void, slowly becoming aware that he was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. He took his cellphone from his pocket: the time was 12:52 PM. “Oh, man,” he said, sitting up and looking in the dresser mirror. His color had returned. He felt refreshed. The realization that he just won a $10,000,000 lottery flooded his senses. “Oh, my God,” he said, staring at his reflection. Excitement welled up inside. He thought again about the encounter with the strange man in the office lobby the day before. “I don’t know what that was,” he said, still looking at his likeness in the mirror, “but I know it wasn’t reality.”

     An inspiration hit him: schizophrenia. “That’s it!” he said, snapping his fingers. He was schizophrenic, like that brilliant mathematician at Princeton University who thought people were out to get him. Nodding at his reflection, he said, “I can get help for that, professional help.” He hopped off the bed and went back downstairs. Julie and the girls were sitting at the kitchen table, playing Go Fish.

     Julie turned. “There he is. How are you feeling?”

     “Pretty good, actually.” He walked over, leaned down, and they kissed. “Where’s the ticket?” he whispered in her ear.

     “I put it under our mattress for safekeeping,” she whispered back.

     “While I was sleeping?”

     “I came up to check on you, but you were out like a light. So, I just slipped the ticket under the mattress. God forbid one of them rips it up or scribbles crayon on it.” She nodded to Mary and Emily

     “Okay,” he said, standing up straight. “Who’s winning?”

     “I am,” Mary said.

     “No, I am,” Emily said.

     “Well, mom is a notorious cheater, so be careful,” he said, giving Julie’s hair a little ruffle.

     She looked up and smiled. “What would you like to do?” she asked.

     “I’m actually kinda hungry,” he said, recalling he had not eaten his breakfast.

     “How about we go out for lunch?” she said, taking his hand. “A little celebration.”

     “Sounds good.” He leaned over and they kissed again. “Be right back.”

     He went upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door. Kneeling beside the bed, he lifted the covers and slid his hand under the mattress until he felt the ticket. He pulled it out and stared at it, recalling how each number had stood out in bold 

relief the day before. He focused inward: nothing felt different. He turned outward:  nothing unusual. He stood. “Anyone there?” Nothing happened. “I didn’t think so. Just my mind playing tricks on me.”

     Julie called from the bottom of the stairs: “You almost ready?”

     He turned. “Yeah.”

     “Okay, we’ll be in the car.”

     He put the ticket back under the mattress. At the bedroom door, he stopped and looked at the bed. Ten million dollars is under that mattress, he thought. Feeling suddenly giddy, he turned, ran down the stairs two steps at a time, put on a coat and gloves and rushed outside.

 

       They went to the local diner, sat in a booth and ordered whatever they wanted. For dessert, the girls got ice cream and as they gorged, Ed and Julie discussed their plan: Ed would take Monday off, and they would drive down to Trenton together to turn in the ticket at the state lottery headquarters. Then they would contact a friend who was an estate lawyer and discuss how to manage the windfall. It felt to Ed like they were planning a vacation, and it occurred to him that they were – for the rest of their lives.

     A pneumatic blonde walked past the table with her boyfriend. Ed discreetly followed her backside to the cash register. He looked across the table at Julie: she looked good for her age, and he loved her, but it was a love that had turned more familial than sensual after Mary was born. He glanced again at the blonde as she headed out the front door. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he knew that being a multimillionaire opened many temptations.

     Julie was talking to him: “We should go somewhere exotic, I mean once this is all settled. God knows we’ve earned it. Maybe France?” She reached across the table and gave his hand a squeeze.

     “Yes,” Ed said, turning back to her. “France would be nice, or Italy.”

     “Oh, I want to go to Italy so bad. I’ve heard it’s just amazing.”

     Ed smiled at her excited eyes. All the anxiety that he had felt since he purchased the lottery ticket was gone, and he had a sudden urge to be in bed with his wife. Of course, that would have to wait until tonight, after the girls were tucked in, but it was going to happen. Money, after all, was a powerful aphrodisiac.

     As Julie prattled on about the exotic cities she’d like to visit across Europe, Ed became aware of someone at the front window. He casually shifted his gaze and locked eyes with the strange man from the office lobby the day before. The man’s face was pressed up to the glass, and he was grinning, his head bobbing up and down. Ed turned back to Julie, hoping the man would disappear, but he could see the man was still there. He looked again – the man’s eyes widened for a moment, and then he slowly turned and walked away, head still bobbing.  

     “There!” Ed yelled, pointing his finger past Julie’s stunned face. “That man!”

     “What man?” Julie said. She spun around.  

     “He was just at the window!” Ed jumped up and ran through the diner and out the door. A few people were on the sidewalk, but the man was gone. Ed ran over to an alleyway – it was empty. “I don’t believe it,” he said, looking around. “I just don’t believe it.” He slowly walked back into the diner. The three females in his life stared up at him from the booth. He sat heavily next to Mary.

     “Are you okay?” Julie asked. She reached over and took both his hands in hers.

     “I don’t know what I am,” he said.  

     “You’re daddy,” Mary said.

     “I am that,” he said.

     “Tell you what,” Julie said, “why don’t we wrap up here and get you home.” She signaled to the waitress.

     While Ed brought the bill up to the cashier, Julie went to the bathroom with the girls. He paid, walked back and put a tip on the table. He looked over at the front window. Empty. He turned. Julie and the girls were coming back down the aisle, Julie with a look of grave concern. As the girls put their coats on, she asked in a hushed tone, “What man did you see?”

     “He looked like the guy who hassled me in the office lobby yesterday.”

     “The guy you mentioned last night, the one who wanted money?”

     “Yeah, that guy,” Ed said. 

     She forced a smile. “Honey,” she said, “you just won ten million dollars. It’s gonna be okay.”

     Ed forced a smile of his own. “Thanks for the reminder.”

     She kissed him. “Let’s get you home and we’ll talk.”

     “Let’s,” Ed said.

 

     Julie set the girls up with a cartoon in the TV room as Ed prepared two cups of tea. They sat down at the dining room table and looked across at each other. Ed shrugged. “I know it sounds crazy,” he said, “but I swear it was the same guy from the office lobby yesterday.” He didn’t mention the man’s crazed smile.

     “And you’ve never seen him before?”

     “That I’m sure of, not until yesterday.”

     Julie gave him a sympathetic smile. “Hey, I’m not doubting you, but is it possible that it was just some other guy who looked similar? Maybe some guy looking in to see if there were any open tables?”

     “It’s possible,” Ed said, but he knew better.

     Julie frowned momentarily and then brightened. “You remember that story about the math genius, the one down at Princeton University, who suffered from paranoia and thought people were out to get him?”

     Ed laughed.

     “What’s funny about that?” Julie asked.

     “Nothing,” Ed said. “Yeah, I know the story.” He paused. “I think he was diagnosed as schizophrenic.”

     “Paranoid, schizophrenic.  Whatever it was, my point is he was an otherwise rational man who suffered from delusions, hallucinations.”

     “You really think that might explain it?”

     “I do,” Julie said. “I mean, look at all the stress we’ve been dealing with – juggling the kids, your work, my unemployment, our finances. And then in an instant you’re a multimillionaire. That can mess with a person’s head.”

     Ed dared to be hopeful again, yet the man had seemed so real, and the way he had stared through the window. “That guy down in Princeton, he really did hallucinate that people were after him, right? He absolutely saw the people like they were really there?”

     “Absolutely,” Julie said.

     “But that guy was a mathematical genius,” Ed said.

     Julie shook her head and laughed. “Oh baby, you don’t need to be a genius to suffer from mental illness.”

     “I guess I should get professional help,” he said.

     “I think we can afford that,” she said with a wry smile.

     “And you’re okay with a husband who sees imaginary people?”

     “Til death do us part,” she said.

     “I’m lucky to have you,” he said.

     “And I’m lucky to have you, with or without ten mill.” She stood and walked around the table. Stepping up behind him, she started massaging his shoulders. He closed his eyes. “Ahh,” he said, stifling a yawn. He looked at his watch: 3:05 PM. “I don’t know why I’m so tired today.”

     “I think it’s understandable,” she said. “You’ve had a shock. A good shock.” She leaned over and they kissed. “Why don’t you lie down?” she said. “I’ll entertain the girls.”

     “Okay, for just a few minutes.”

     She whispered in his ear, “And maybe we can have a date tonight after the girls are tucked in.”

     “That would be nice,” he said.

     She hugged him. “Hey,” she said, “you’re gonna be okay. Okay?”

     “Yeah,” Ed said, nodding. They kissed again.

     Julie stood up straight and hesitated.

     “What?” Ed asked, turning his head and looking up at her.

     “I just – okay, the guy who was hassling you yesterday – there’s no way he saw the lottery numbers you picked, right?”

     Ed felt dizzy again.

      “I mean,” Julie said quickly, “he wasn’t looking over your shoulder when you bought the ticket, right?”

     “No,” Ed said.

     “Okay, I’m sorry,” she said as she gave his shoulders a final rub. “I just had to ask. I mean, these days, with all the scammers out there, you never know.” 

     “I understand,” he said.

 

     He dreamed that their house was on fire. It was a sunny summer day, and he and Julie were in the street watching flames and smoke billowing from the windows. It struck him as peculiar that their house was burning in the middle of 

such a nice day. Julie was frantic, yelling, “We’ve got to get back inside!” She tried to get closer, but the heat was too intense. Ed wondered where their daughters were, and he sensed that it wasn’t the kids she was worried about. He felt a sense of relief. Let it burn, he thought. Let it burn, and he pictured the slip of paper curling up in flames and turning to ash.

     A faint knock interrupted the dream. He followed the sound up through ever-thinning layers of sleep and opened his eyes. It came again, a soft knock on the front door. He sat up. Afternoon sunlight filled the room. He shook his head, disoriented. “Just a second,” he called. He got up and went to the window. No one was at the front door. He turned. "Julie?” No answer. He checked his watch: 4:20 PM. How strange. He went into the front hall and stepped down to the first landing. He looked out the window at the backyard and the parking area. The minivan was gone. He turned and looked down the stairs. “Anyone there?” Dead silence, but he sensed there was someone there. He listened. A radiator hissed. And then came the distinct sound of a spoon being stirred in a teacup. It was coming from the dining room.

     “Oh, my God,” Ed whispered. It’s him. His head swooned and he grabbed the railing. A chair creaked in the dining room. He closed his eyes and stifled a sob. With a mix of dread and resignation, he opened his eyes and descended the stairs. When he reached the landing, he hesitated for a moment, and then he stepped into the dining room.

     There was a man sitting at the far end of the table. A different man. He was tall and lean and older. He had a long face, gray hair swept straight back from a widow’s peak, and bushy eyebrows. Like the strange little man from the day before, this man wore a gray wool three-piece suit and the elements combined to give him an aristocratic, old-world quality. He dipped a spoon into a teacup, squeezed out a teabag and placed the teabag and spoon on the saucer. He took a sip, grunted approvingly, and looked up. “There’s hot water on the stove,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind that I let myself in.”

     Ed looked at the teacup. “That’s part of our wedding china,” he said.  

     “Is it? Your wife has good taste. Forgive me for poking around in your cabinets. I simply can’t resist a cup of tea on a chilly afternoon.”

     “Who are you?” Ed asked quietly.

     “Oh, why don’t you just call me Harry.”  

     “What do you want, Harry?”

     Harry sipped more tea and carefully put the cup on the saucer. “I am here to reaffirm what my colleague told you yesterday. It appears you are confused.”

     “I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you exist at all. I think I’m suffering from mental illness, and I’m going to get help, so please go away.”                           

     Harry studied Ed for a few moments. Ed fidgeted. “Why don’t you sit down?” Harry said.

     “I’m more comfortable standing, and I’ve actually got things to do.”

     “Mm…of course. What plans do you have for all that money? I’m curious.”

     “Look, mister, I’m not gonna fall for this, whatever it is. My wife will be home any minute, so you better go.”

     “Your wife won’t be home for quite a while. She couldn’t resist taking the children out to look at some imported cars. Quite understandable, don’t you think?”

     Ed opened his mouth to refute the claim, but he sensed that it was true. “Very understandable,” he said. “Why don’t you stop by when she comes back, and we’ll all have a talk.”

     “That would be impossible,” Harry said. He took another sip of tea.

     “That’s right, because you don’t exist.”

     “Oh, I exist, but not to her. No, I don’t believe I’ll ever meet your wife. You see, Mr. Hull, life exists on different planes of time and space. You and I can sit here and chat for what might feel like hours, but your wife won’t see us or miss you. It’s important that you realize the powers you unleashed when you agreed to this pact.”

     Ed felt tired. He sat down. “There, that’s better,” Harry said. “Now, I’ll reiterate what my colleague told you. If you have any questions, I will be glad to answer them, and then I will make my leave and let you get on with enjoying all that money, as you should.” Harry finished his tea and looked at Ed. “Edward Hull,” he said, “you sold your soul to the devil in exchange for a winning lottery ticket in the amount of ten million dollars. Any questions?”

     The words were a hammer blow. Ed had been desperately holding onto the belief that he was suffering from psychosis, and in an instant that belief was ripped from his grasp. He took a couple deep breaths. “I can’t breathe,” he said.

     “Are you asthmatic?” Harry asked.

     “No.”

     “Ah, then it’s stress.”

     “You’re damn right it’s stress. Look, I feel like I’m crazy to even be talking to you. I mean what the hell…?” He stopped and let out a nervous laugh. Harry stared. He either did not get the joke, or he did not find it amusing. Ed was suddenly angry with self-pity. “This isn’t fair,” he said. “I didn’t know I was selling my soul to the devil. I’d never do that.”

     Harry slowly shook his head. “Do you think this happened by accident? Some misunderstanding, perhaps?”

     “Yes, I do.”

     “Come on, Mr. Hull.” Harry leaned forward. “Think back to that critical moment of desperation. Your plea was heartfelt – anything less would have fallen short. It’s a beautiful thing, really. A thought so pure, so earnest. So..” he said with a shrug, “soulful.”

     Ed felt dizzy again. He wished he were standing so that he could faint and maybe wake up to discover that it was all a bad dream. “Well, tell your colleague he didn’t do a very good job of briefing me,” he said.

     “Oh, I disagree. He laid out the terms most clearly.”

     “And that’s the only warning I get? You really expected me to believe it, just like that?”

     “Yes, I do.” Harry said.

     “That’s bullshit!”

     Harry winced. “Please refrain from foul language,” he said. Ed snorted in disgust. Harry raised his hand, lifted his index finger. “Listen closely. If there had been any misunderstanding, we would have reiterated the terms to you, thus allowing you to make a conscious decision.”

     “But I was so confused.”

     “You wanted to be confused. That made it easier to go ahead with it. Put the denial and the paranoia theory and the self-doubt aside. Those feelings were merely the protective reactions of your mind. Think back again to that moment, to that sweet, simple moment when you declared that you would exchange your soul for a winning lottery ticket.  In your heart, you were willing – no, committed - to the transaction.”

     “Can I just rip the ticket up?” Ed asked in desperation. “If I destroy the ticket, I won’t be able to claim the money.”

     “The money was yours the moment the winning numbers were drawn, Mr. Hull.”

     “Yeah, but -”

     “No!” Harry said sharply. Ed flinched. Harry turned and looked out the window for a few moments, composing himself. He looked at Ed. “I advise you not to tamper with forces you do not understand, Mr. Hull.”

     Ed felt he was on the verge of tears. “Then why warn me at all? If I want to sell my soul, why not just take it and be done with it?”

     Harry nodded and smiled. “Yes, of course. Why go to all this effort? Why add this token of…fairness?” He said the last word like it had a bad taste. “Mr. Hull, if it was only that easy. The fact is a lot of people get the impulse to sell their souls, with alarming frequency. If we had carte blanche to claim every single one on the spot, the scales would be tipped heavily in our favor. Alas, such is not the case. And most decline when the terms are explained to them. But now and again, the offer is accepted.”

     “So, there are people walking around right now who have done what I’ve done?”

     “Absolutely.”

     “And they’re happy?”

     Harry gave Ed an enigmatic smile. Ed felt like a deflating balloon. “And this is non-negotiable?” he asked feebly.

     “Correct.”

     “I don’t even know what my soul is,” Ed said.

     “Simply put, it is who you are,” Harry said. “Your essence.”

     “Whatever that means,” Ed said. “So, I’m going to hell?”

     “In the end, yes. But don’t pre-judge. It’s not as insufferable as your clergymen portray it.”

     “And I won’t see you again?” Ed asked, surprised by the hope in his voice.

     “No, my work is done. I suggest you go ahead with your thrilling plans and enjoy the rest of your life.” Harry lifted a sleeve and looked at his watch. “Very well,” he said, standing. He was thin as a stick figure.

     “That’s easy for you to say,” Ed said. Harry ignored him and walked to the front door. The man is humorless, Ed thought. “Will good triumph over evil?” he blurted.

     Harry turned around. The afternoon light shone on him and Ed was struck by his pallid face. “Yin-yang,” Harry said.

     Ed frowned.

     Harry sighed. “There can be no light without darkness, Mr. Hull.” He opened the front door, paused, and said, “I’m fond of the saying ‘an ounce of evil is to a pound of good’,” and then, turning and looking up at the sky, he said “I smell snow.” And with that, he walked out.

     “I’ve never heard that saying,” Ed said. The front door closed. Ed stood and looked through the window. Harry was walking down the sidewalk as if on a Sunday stroll. Ed watched until the man disappeared around a bend. A moment later, the minivan came into view. “Oh, shit!” Ed yelled. He ran upstairs to the medicine cabinet and swallowed two Xanax with water. He went into the bedroom, closed the door and got into bed. A few moments later, he heard the back door open, followed by the jingling of car keys and the voices of the girls. Footsteps were coming up the stairs. He closed his eyes. There was the soft whisper of the bedroom door opening, a pause, and then closing. He heard the bathroom door shut, a brief silence, and then the toilet flushing, the bathroom door opening, and footsteps receding downstairs.

     Ed opened his eyes. Thoughts raced through his head. Should he tell Julie the truth? She’d think he’s mad. He could destroy the ticket – it’s the devil’s money. She’d never forgive him – he’d never forgive himself. Or he could just go with it. Why not? There was certainly a lot of fun to be had. He was not old and was in good physical shape. He likely wouldn’t have to face the ultimate consequence for at least twenty more years. And maybe hell wasn’t that big a deal, as that Harry fellow had suggested. Maybe it was like a white-collar prison for an offender like him. The possibility was pleasing.

     He got out of bed and crept out to the top of the stairs. He could hear a cartoon playing in the TV room. Julie was on the phone in the kitchen. He cupped an ear, leaned forward and listened: “Oh, not much – just some errands. Food and gas, you know. (pause) Yes! I heard we might get a few inches. I’m not ready for winter yet, maybe we’ll have to buy an SUV (giggle). He’s upstairs taking a nap. (pause) I don’t think so, but he has been tired lately. No, mom, it’s not a cold. (a long pause) Mom, I can’t take it any longer - can you keep a secret?” Her voice dropped to a hush. Ed gasped – she’s telling her mother! A moment later, Julie released a muffled shriek and her voice rose again: “I am not joking. I know, I know. Believe me, I know. I’ve been pinching myself all day.”

     Ed shook his head and went back into the bedroom. You never could keep a secret, honey. He closed the door and slipped under the covers. It was completely out of his control now. If only he had hidden the ticket before Julie saw it! That would have given him time to think things through, make a rational decision. He sighed. What rational decision could he have made that would have changed the inevitable? A heavy sense of isolation fell over him. He closed his eyes. The soothing tentacles began creeping through his skull. He curled into a fetal position and fell asleep.

 

     When he awoke, the bedroom was dark. Julie was next to him, breathing rhythmically. He looked at the clock: 12:06 am – he had really slept. He lay there for a few minutes, looking at the ceiling. He could not remember the last time he felt so rested and relaxed. He had complete peace of mind, and it was clear what he must do. He slipped out of bed and got dressed. Quietly, he kneeled on Julie’s side of the bed, slid his hand under the mattress and retrieved the lottery ticket. He contemplated the piece of paper for a few moments. A fair transaction, he decided. He put the ticket back and looked at Julie, her head inches away. Sweet dreams, my love. He wanted to kiss her but thought better of it. He went into the next bedroom and looked down at the two girls sleeping in their beds. “Love you two,” he whispered. He blew them each a kiss.

     In the bathroom, he turned on the nightlight. With cold precision, he opened the medicine cabinet and retrieved the vial of Xanax. Ten pills were left. He swallowed them one by one with water. He went downstairs and into the kitchen. There were a few car brochures on the counter: Jaguar, BMW, Mercedes. Go for the Jaguar, it’s what you always wanted. At the sink, he drank a glass of water. There was fresh fruit in the bowl on the counter. Behind the fruit bowl, out of the children’s reach, was a bag of cookies. He looked closer: his favorite oatmeal cookies from the gourmet market across town. Thanks for making the trip, honey. He opened the bag and ate a cookie, followed it with another glass of water. He put on his coat and went out the kitchen door.

     It was snowing. A thin coat covered the ground, and the trees swayed gently overhead. He considered going back inside for his hat, thought better of it, and walked to the back of the property. A rabbit bounded off. A line of shrubs ran along the property line. Beyond the shrubs was an undeveloped patch of woodland with a stream running through it. He urinated on a tree and pushed through the shrubs and walked through the woods down a gradual slope to the stream’s edge. He sat on a rock and stared at the black ribbon of water. His socks were damp. The octopus was moving across his brain, heavier this time. Despite the cold, he felt a growing warmth in his belly.

     After a few minutes, he saw movement to his right and turned with mild surprise to see someone approaching. As the figure drew closer, it transformed into a young girl. The girl toddled carefully along the stream bank and seemed to take a long time to reach him. She stopped about ten feet away. She wore a powder blue snow suit and a white hat, mittens and boots. He guessed her age to be about ten years.

     “Whew, it’s cold out,” she said. “You should have a hat.”

     “Who are you?” Ed asked.

     “Oh, why don’t you call me Jill.”

     “What do you want, Jill?”

     “Nothing, Mr. Hull. I just thought you might like some company. I’ll leave if you prefer.”

     “It doesn’t matter,” Ed said. “Did they send you?”

     “Um…I was summoned to meet you here, but I don’t know what you mean by ‘they’.”

     Ed peered closer. She had the luminous eyes of a child, but he sensed something about her that was not childlike at all. “So, you know my history? These past few days?”

     “Essentially, yes,” Jill said.

     “Well, I don’t think there’s much room for comfort,” Ed said.

     “As you wish,” Jill said. She turned to go.

     “What is hell like?” Ed blurted.

     She turned back and looked at him for a few moments. “Don’t be scared,” she said.

     Ed shivered. “Two days ago, I was happily married, and now, because one greedy impulse, I’m doomed to eternal damnation. That’s pretty scary.”

     “You weren’t happily married,” Jill said. “You weren’t happy at all.”

     “How would you know?” Ed asked. She only looked at him with her saucer-like eyes. “I love my little girls,” he said.

     “Yes, you do,” she said earnestly, “Please don’t worry, they’ll be okay.”

     “I want to believe you,” Ed said. “I guess if someone like you lives in hell, it can’t be that bad.” She didn’t respond. “Tell me it’s not terrible,” he pleaded.

     “It’ll be okay,” she said. She was stroking his hair. When did she draw closer? The snow was falling harder, and the stream was a crooked line in a blur of white. He realized he was lying on the ground. She was kneeling beside him.

     “I’m ready,” he said.

     “Yes, it is time,” she replied. He stared up at her face, but all he could see were her big, gleaming eyes. This is all she’s been waiting for, he thought.

     “You tricked me,” he said.

     “You tricked yourself,” she answered. The words echoed as darkness closed in, and at the last moment he accepted that she was right. They had all been right. He was falling through the darkness, seemingly forever, but he knew there was someone waiting below.