Luck And Lucy

Luck. A word meaning a success or failure based on someone’s chances versus their own actions. Usually used positively as in “you have good luck” or “you are lucky”. Miraculously achieving or overcoming because the Gods above have swayed the odds in your favor for one reason or another. Luck is a pawn in the game called destiny. 

I’ve been called lucky all my life, because of both my good luck and bad luck. I always seem to be in the 1%. I was born with almost all the recessive genes; red hair, albine-white skin, pale blue eyes. I’m even left-handed. When I was a kid, I won every raffle I entered. When I picked heads in a coin toss, the coin would land heads up time after time after time. But luck isn’t always a good thing. When I was 12, I was riding the train into the city (I had won free tickets to see Hamilton on their Philadelphia tour) when the train crashed. Train crashes only happen to 1 out of 431,800 people in America. I hit my head in the accident. There was a 95% chance I would be completely paralyzed from the brain injury. Doctors said I would never walk again, yet I, defied all odds and walked out of the hospital a few days later. The incident left me with a minor concussion and a pretty bad stutter. 

The funny thing is this gift of luck never felt very lucky. I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up because of it. I was the annoying kid who would always win the card game or Candy Land. On top of that, was my speech impediment and my look. I was the ginger with a stutter who would win every board game. Who can blame them for not playing with me? Over the years, I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut and drift. To fly under the radar, to avoid the resentment, the jealousy, the disgust. 

But that is all going to change today. It’s my 21st birthday and as of today, according to the Pennsylvania state law, I am legally able to buy a lottery ticket. 

My local 7/11 has many attributes. A stunning interior with a cracked concrete entrance way, a rustic decor of cigarette-butts and pre-chewed gum wads. Inside, vintage fluorescent bulbs line the ceiling, some even exhibit a rare flickering effect. The sticky tiled floors are specially designed to be slip-proof and smell sweet-sour like your favorite Slurpee. Most important, behind the counter is the Pennsylvania Big-6 lottery ticket. Only $10 for a chance to win one million dollars. One ticket. Five rows. Six numbers. This 7/11 location has never sold a winner before but I’m about to change that. 

The cashier is so bored, he didn’t even ask for my ID which I was still more than happy to provide even without being prompted. My cheeks were sore from the wideness of my grin as he handed over my lottery ticket; the ticket that began the rest of my life. 

Of course I had already begun thinking about what to do with the money. It is the only thing that has kept me sane through my lonely years of high school. This is my big “eff you” to all my peers who called me a freak or tried to change me. I am about to get a million dollars by simply being who I am. I was over the moon with excitement and gratitude. I quickly thanked the Gods for choosing me to be lucky and I slipped into my car to drive back to my parents house. 

The first thing I would buy with the money would be to buy my own home. Not a huge house or anything but a nice one with 3 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, newly renovated and in a good location, ideally close to town but not on the busy road. The rest of the money will be invested in the stock market. With my luck, I’ll earn enough off that to double or triple my money. Finally, all I have to do is think of a genius product idea and I will start my own business. It's all planned out and perfect. I just have to wait for the winning numbers to be posted on Saturday so I can claim my prize. 

It was the next day and I had a coffee date with my realtor. Well, not really a date per se but we were going to get coffee on a particular date. The first time I talked to her on the phone, the first time I heard her honey sweet voice sing, “Hi, this is Lucy speaking. You have reached Weichert Realtors, how may I help you?” I knew I loved her. 

I have never really been on a date before, but I’ve seen enough movie montages to know how to properly get ready. Button up shirt (blue to bring out my blue eyes; girls love pretty eyes), khaki pants (crisp but casual), aftershave (for that manly scent), and a little hair gel (to accompany the hairbrush-as-a-microphone singing). 

I was a bundle of nerves. Any girl I’ve ever met has run the other way for one reason or another. My appalling pale white complexion. My stutter. My strange, persistent luck. But I just knew Lucy would be different. I just knew it. 

At first glance through the coffee shop window, I realized I was wrong. Realtor folder in hand, glancing impatiently at her watch. She wore a royal purple blazer with sharp shoulders and a matching purple pencil skirt under which her legs were properly crossed. She had long bone-straight hair, so blond it looked bleached. She was beautiful but what made me hesitate was her nose. A nose perfectly symmetrical and lightly speckled with freckles yet up-turned, making her appear like she had smelled something distasteful. Making her appear stuck-up and unforgiving. Making her look like every one of the popular girls at my high school who barely looked my way unless it was to laugh at me. I felt the familiar beads of sweat and dread trickle down my spine. But I was older now and I could hold my ground. I entered the shop and ordered my drink. Then I approached the table and introduced myself. 

“Hi, I-I-I’m Eth-th-than. You m-m-must be Lu-u-cy?” She was taking me in. I felt her eyes scan me up and down but she wasn’t judging me like I had expected. Her gaze seemed curious, interested, genuine. She nodded with a smile to the empty chair across from her, inviting me to join her little, round, wooden table. 

“Yes, hi Ethan. It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Her lovely voice sang. It melted my heart. I could never have a girl like her. “What kind of property are you looking for?” 

Slowly but surely I listed my needs and my wants. She listened patiently, tentatively, kindly. She looked into my eyes and I thought I saw something shift in her face. Her nose was still turned upright but it was if the rotten smell had gone away. She looked more human, more wholesome. I decided to take my shot. 

Instead of wishing away the days until they announced the winning lottery numbers, I spent my days with Lucy. We talked on the phone every night, but not about real estate; about ourselves and about her childhood. She told me, her silky voice as pure as gold, that she, too, was once a stranger to her classmates, left out and alone. She had dyslexia, the letters would scramble around in her brain, becoming nonsense by the time they reached her tongue. She would fall behind in school, the dumb girl who was scared to read aloud in front of the class, fearing she would make a mistake and humiliate herself. Of course, as she got older, she said, she overcompensated. She pretended she hated school as if she couldn’t be bothered and instead focused on her appearance. She would put on a cool-girl facade even for her closest friends. We understood each other, the deep aching loneliness. That’s when we realized we were each other’s missing piece. 

It wasn’t even that we had similar interests. Quite the opposite actually, but we were interested in what each other had to say. She wanted to know why Lord of the Flies was my favorite book. Why I swooned over symbolism and allegories while to her, literature to her was just the English homework which she never bothered completing. I wanted to know why she liked to run. The appeal of running, an activity that has always seemed like a chore to me, I now see was a form of escapism for her; a thing that was truly hers that allowed her be free. 

We were each other’s eye-openers. My world was clearer with Lucy in it. 

And then, just like that Saturday had arrived. I woke up at 4:30am so I would be the first person to see the winning lottery numbers when they post them online at 5am. I could almost smell that new house smell. I could almost taste the sweet revenge of my classmates. I could almost see the rest of my life starting; the life I would spend with Lucy, fulfilled and happy. 

I was writing her an email. Telling her about a new horror movie I saw a trailer for. Before I met Lucy, I wouldn’t have given the movie trailer a second thought, but I knew Lucy loved a good thriller so it had reminded me of her.

I got so wrapped up in writing my email, that I hadn’t even realized it was already 5:04. I quickly switched tabs and reloaded the page, anxiously awaiting the numbers. I scanned them and then scanned each row of numbers on my lottery ticket. 

They didn’t match. 

Assuming I had just read too quickly, I compared the numbers again. No match. I didn’t understand. I have never lost a luck-based contest before and the loss hurt. It felt like a ton of bricks on my chest and I couldn’t breathe. Had my luck run out? I didn’t understand… 

And then I did. 

I was still the luckiest man alive because I had met Lucy, my perfectly-imperfect match.