Loteria!

I hated the day before it even came; That was including the fact that we haven’t had a game night for weeks, giving me time to myself, yet I still felt the hatred boiling inside of me. In honor of today being Saturday, I spent the day cleaning around the house, to my mother’s surprise. Little did she know, I was collecting stray coins and dollars under the couch and beds for my piggy bank. It was bad enough I didn’t get an allowance, so I figured I could get some money while making my mother happy. 

Despite the prevailing rage that occupied my mind, I couldn’t shake off this dreadful feeling that loomed over my heart. I’ve noticed that whenever that mysterious weight clings on to my chest, something bad was bound to happen. Ever since I’ve taken notice, the foreshadowing has never failed to disappoint. Call it superstition or coincidence, but I took these warnings seriously when they showed.

After I was done cleaning, I took a shower and sat on my bed, pulled out my journal and started writing when my father came home from work, complaining about some project he had to deal with. I continued to frustrate myself with my inability to record the wonders of my imagination in ink,  when I heard a familiar ping echo through the house, followed by my father’s thundering footsteps. 

“Hey, your aunt just sent us a text saying the casino is open. You wanna play?”

“Yeah sure, I got nothing better to do.” As if I even have a choice.

It’s losing money or patience with my life as he would start on his rants about how bitter his son has turned and how I’m gonna turn into a miser. Hell, I can practically recite the lecture from memory now.

“Alright, get yourself ready.” 

I hated game night, but I also hated dressing slowly. I prepared myself and my coins in less than three minutes, then waited ten minutes for my parents.

 God, I hate every moment of this, and I haven’t even lost money yet.

My parents came from their room, the heavy mix of cologne and perfume brutally invading my nostrils. 

“Alright, time to win some money!”

The drive was less than a minute; my aunt’s house was just down the road. We got out of the car and walked towards the door and knocked, followed by a “Come in!” 

We opened the door and saw my aunt and uncle waiting at the table, sheets and money ready. Both sisters greeted each other kindly with a kiss and hug, while my uncle and father exchanged a handshake. At last, my turn came to greet them kindly, bringing back blissful memories.

At least I didn’t hate them. I couldn’t imagine how much more hatred I could harbor for one night. 

I sat down in my usual spot and grabbed three random sheets, despite everyone’s belief that using the same sheet preserves the luck and hope that one invests from previous games. 

“Hey, who took my double rose?” My father was searching aggressively through the stack.

“I don’t have it,” my aunt replied helpfully.

My mother just looked at him and shrugged and continued to look through a pile while my father continued to scramble for his sheets. He glanced at my uncle’s side and gritted his teeth, followed by silent mumbling. My uncle just sat with a bright smile on his face.

Jesus, they’ll go this far for some quarters.

Once everyone settled down and had their sheets, my aunt pulled a black bowl and placed it in the middle of the table, beside the grey cup where the daily round money went.

“Y’all wanna play the pit again?” She couldn’t contain her smile.

Immediately, I noticed my mother struggling to hide a face of hesitance, while my father’s greedy eyes shined brightly at the thought of winning millions in a moment.

“How about we avoid that for tonight,” my mother proposed.

“Oh c’mon, what’s wrong with an extra gamble?” My father couldn’t take his eyes off the black bowl.

I could see my mother deciding if she should bring up the last time we played the pit. She wasn’t one to forgive and forget, but she hated causing a scene and spoiling the mood. She stayed silent and threw a quarter to the cup along with everyone else. I threw in my quarter in disappointment.

 The one time you had a chance to stop this, and you stayed quiet. Great. Now I just end up with less money. How lovely.

My father passed me the deck of cards along with the honor of saying and shuffling them all night. I took a deep mental breath, prayed to God for patience, and began playing.

The first round dragged on for quite a while, but eventually, the rose came out and-

“Loteria!”

  -my uncle won around six dollars from the game. Then everyone threw another quarter to the red cup. The rounds continued, and-

“Loteria!”

   -luck or whatever you want to believe-

  “Loteria!”

-started jumping from person to person, though it seemed fond of my aunt. She just kept smiling as the money kept pouring in. I could see how my uncle stared down his sheets, his face serious as his towers of coins disappeared.

“Loteria!”

I started pondering on what luck comprised of, or whether it was a concept made by humans to give reason to an extraordinary occurrence. Maybe it all fell to the simple-

“Loteria!”

-matter of probability. It sounded like something much more time-worthy than playing a game that slowly drained me of money.

“Loteria,” my father exclaimed, followed by a series of surprised faces and moans.

"Hey, y'all have been winning this whole time!"

“The bowl is getting heavy,” my aunt observed.

“Yeah, no one has won it yet,” my father replied.

  “How much do you think it has?”

“No idea. How many rounds have we had?”

“However much it is, it’s enough to relieve anyone of their losses."

“Enough, let’s keep going,” my uncle grumbled.

“Hold up, let’s figure out-”

“The rose! The boot! The harp…”

My father won the most from the next few rounds, to everyone’s dismay. I looked at my wallet, realizing that I only had four pitiful dollars to my name.

It’s only a matter of time.

“Loteria!”

Everyone stared at my aunt’s sheet, winning three rounds in a row. 

“I won with the tree,” she stated, mocking us with her smile. My uncle paid her, stood up and grabbed his sweater.

“Where are you going,” my aunt asked.

“I’m taking a break.”

“Just play a few more games.”

“I said I’m taking a break.” He closed the door behind him.

My parents and I suddenly shared a great interest in the structure and looks of the home. The place was pretty crowded with piles of miscellaneous items. The ceiling was all cracked and stained. It wasn’t much to look at.

“Do y’all want something to eat? Something to drink?” She didn't seem slightly embarrassed.

My parents shook their heads, but I gleefully agreed to a soda. My aunt stood up and went to the kitchen, returning with a cold Coca-Cola, and then we just sat there awkwardly, asking superficial questions about the week and how work was going and politics and blah blah blah. Luckily, I had enough intelligence to bring my headphones for such an occasion when I noticed that the dreadful feeling in my heart hadn’t gone away. 

I hope this doesn’t relate to game night. 

I listened to my music uncomfortably and sipped on my soda while my parents and aunt chatted away.

It was twenty minutes before my uncle came back in, my mother’s eyes widening in disbelief.

“Why did you take so long,” my aunt asked, raising an eyebrow.

He placed a six-pack of beer onto a small table and went into his room, coming out with his reading glasses on. He ripped open the cardboard and pulled out a bottle of Bud Light.

“Alright, time to win some money!”

The rounds continued, and the tide shifted in his favor,-

“Loteria!”

-bringing back the towers he had mourned over before his break along with his joy; I barely recognized him as the same man playing with us at the beginning.

“Loteria!”

 In light of her diminishing piles, my aunt started cheating by paying four quarters instead of five, not according to five sheets she played.

“Loteria! I won with the star diagonally.”

I glanced over and saw no row filled with coins. It was one thing to call myself blind; It was another to cheat. I tried looking for the row but she quickly cleaned her sheets, ridding any evidence of her lies.  

I hated game night, but I could at least expect some shred of fairness with these people. Apparently not. Now, for how long have you been doing this...

She continued her ways while my uncle continued to drink bottle after bottle. I could see my mother shifting away from him. My father took no notice, only glancing between the black bowl and the lack of quarters on his side.

“Loteria!” My uncle laughed drunkenly. The rounds continued, and I learned-

“Loteria!”

-that everything must end, such as my uncle’s lucky streak.

If only this-

“Loteria!”

-dread from my heart could go away.

I offered my kindness to my aunt by giving her money to the winner.

“Here, I’ll take it for you. I’m about to put my money in the grey cup,” extending my palm towards her.

I could tell she was annoyed at me for foiling her plan. It was obvious in her careless throw of quarters to my hand. 

“Loteria!”

I couldn’t tell whether my parents were losing or winning money, their faces not giving away any clues to the situation. The rounds kept going, and-

“Loteria!”

-I kept myself afloat, winning some dollar bills and-

“Loteria!”

-a decent tower of quarters to my side. My uncle’s quarters were practically gone, now and then giving  off a loud grunt or frustrated sigh. 

Sometimes, that’s how the game goes.

I noticed how nearly all the bottles were gone from the box. My heart grew heavier and started to pound my ribcage.

This ain’t gonna end well, ain’t it?

“Loteria! I won the pit!” 

My aunt and uncle rose from her chair and stared at my sheet, where they gasped at the small three-by-three square, marked by quarters and one at its center.

“Eh?! Where? I don’t see it!”

“Right there,” she pointed, her joyful aura all gone. My parents started clearing their sheets. 

“Eh?! The rooster didn’t come!”

Neither any dignity.

“The rooster came. It’s right here,” and I lifted the card from the pile. My uncle's face twisted itself in anger and confusion, his mouth wide open at his lack of logic. He dropped his bottle on the table, spilling the last of his six-pack.

“Fuc-”

“Wait, the heart came?” Her voice stopped the flow of my uncle’s curses.

“I missed it! That was the one I needed to win the pit, and I didn’t catch it! We need to start over, it’s not fair! C’mon, reshuffle the cards and-”

“Wait, what do you mean start over?” My mother shot up from her seat, her face reddened with anger.

“Yeah, I missed it because he didn’t say it loud enough. It’s only fair-”

“Damn it, this is why I didn’t want to play the pit!” Her voice raised the hairs on my arms and took everyone by surprise.

“This is exactly what happened last time! You both couldn’t cope with the fact that you lost the pit money. We even had this same argument! Can’t you just learn to lose and take it like it is?! And to top it all off, you don’t even play fairly, so why should I expect you to lose properly too?.”

My aunt was at a loss for words, staring at her sister with wide eyes and open mouth.

“What are you talki-”

“You think I haven’t noticed? That you don’t pay what you play for? Do you think we’re this stupid? You don’t even pay your quarter every round for the pit! It’s always the same every time we play! God, I’m so sick of you being like this!”

My aunt couldn’t even look at her in the eye. My father just sat there, staring at the black bowl, nearly filled with money.

“Enough! Let’s just end this for tonight,” my uncle said.

“Yeah,” my father pleaded. “Let’s just settle down and-”

My mother looked at him with disgust, her whole body shaking. It was enough to shut him up.

“Fine,” she said through her teeth. The living  room was silent, except for the putting away of sheets.

“I guess we’ll see you next Saturday,” my father said jokingly. 

“No. We’re not coming to play anymore.” My mother’s voice was nearly a whisper, sending chills down my spine. She left the table and grabbed her coat, slamming the door behind her. My father looked at the black bowl while my uncle filled the air with curses towards his wife and at the mess he made. My aunt could only look at the floor, her face blank and thoughts lost in another world, one where she probably won everything in that bowl. 

“I had three chances to win the pit. I just needed one more card on each sheet,” my father said miserably; “I was so close…”

The sense of dread that plagued my heart finally lifted itself. I only stared at the bowl, nearly full of quarters and what little civility we had left. I felt great shame in thinking about getting all those quarters. My mother’s words stung deeply, bringing back all the hatred I held for Saturday night, and from it, the guilt of receiving so much from it in one night. This reminded me of a quote I recently discovered.

“Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute.”

That bowl was no one’s now.