Ticket to Paradise

Life was good.  I had a decent job.  It didn’t pay much but I enjoyed it.  I had a roommate who was also a friend. I had a nice girlfriend and a supportive family.  Everything was easy and although I had to forgo fancy vacations for staycations and eating out for attempting home recipes to save money, I was content.

It was on a night when I was attempting to make a homemade meal for my girlfriend that everything changed.  I was halfway through the recipe for dessert when I realized I didn’t have enough sugar. I had to run to the store quickly in the middle of making the batter.  The cake needed to bake for 45 minutes and she would be arriving in an hour and a half leaving little time for the cake to cool.  Not having time to find a taxi I decided a nice jog would be faster.

When I got to the convenience store there was only one other customer.  I went to the shelves to find the sugar as the older woman went to the register.  She asked for a pack of cigarettes and 5 quick picks.  The teller was slow as molasses and the machine had to register each ticket.  I pictured my batter flattening while the old lady picked up candy bars and put them back slowly adding to her purchases on the counter.

I hate to admit it but I started to get irritated and a little melodramatic.  I huffed and I puffed.  The woman turned to me as the last ticket was printing and offered to share the small counter space as a consolation for my patience.  I should have been ashamed as I placed my pound of sugar on the counter.  I tried to smile apologetically.

The teller collected her prizes into a plastic sack and handed her the bag.  She thanked him and with one hand on her cane and the other holding the bag she slowly hobbled out of the store.  The teller glared at me and maintained unpleasant eye contact as he put my sugar into a bag and gave me my change.  I left without a word.

The cake was ruined.  It was a total pancake but my girlfriend and I enjoyed it anyway and the night was a success.  My roommate came in as we were settling down to watch a show and he enjoyed it too.  It was fun to just share good food, relax, and enjoy each other's company.

The next morning I woke to a messy kitchen.  I put the dishes in the washer and started returning the ingredients to the pantry.  As I lifted the sugar I noticed a lottery ticket stuck to the bottom of the paper packaging.  I peeled it off and brushed the sugar away.  It must have been one of that nice old woman’s tickets.  I put it near the door and thought about how I might return it.

Three days later I was watching the news with my girlfriend and roommate as we shared a new recipe I was trying and there was a big story about a winning lottery ticket.  It won the jackpot of 33 million dollars but no one had claimed it.  My thoughts went to the door as my companions talked about how they would spend such a treasure.

I got up from the couch and offered to refill their drinks.  I took the long way to the kitchen and as casually as possible I covered the ticket with some junk mail.  I could do nothing but think about that ticket for the rest of the night and as soon as our shows were over I rushed my girlfriend out the door and then pretended to clean the kitchen while I watched the pile of mail and impatiently waited for my roommate to go to bed.

As soon as he did I grabbed the ticket and brought it into my room.  I looked the numbers up online as soon as my door was locked. 6 9 46 32 37 3.  I was holding 33 million dollars in my hand.  I felt dizzy.  I felt sick.  I wanted to tell everyone and no one.  I spent the night worrying about the little old woman taking it back with the teller as her witness.  I didn't sleep.

By the morning I decided I should wait to turn it in.  The teller was bound to remember me and I was sure he would blackmail me or convince the police to investigate.  Maybe they would have video: Proof that the ticket was not mine.  I felt paralyzed.  I didn't want to let the ticket out of my sight but I was afraid that if I took it with me I might lose it.  I decided it would be best to call in sick to work.

By the next day I was sure the old lady and the teller were looking for me.  I had paid in cash so they didn't have my credit card information but if the teller noticed I didn't have a car he would know I live close by.  I thought about moving but what good would that do if they knew where the ticket was purchased.  My roommate saw me looking at rentals in the paper but didn’t say anything.

By the fifth day I knew I needed to take a shower and eat some food.  I put the ticket in a zip lock and brought it into the shower with me.  I locked the door just to be safe.  I made a big meal of pasta and meatballs.  I noticed my roommate ate half of it.  I never noticed how much of my food he eats.  I should get a refrigerator in my bedroom to keep my food safe.

By day 7 I broke up with my girlfriend.  She was not the type of woman that would agree to a pre-nup.  After two years of dating I know this about her.  I need to protect my money.  She wanted to discuss the break up in person but as I mentioned, I can’t leave the apartment right now because of the ticket.

My mother called on day 11.  My girlfriend had called her crying.  I do not need a mother who is all up in my business.  I used to think my parents were supportive but now I just feel like they are over-bearing.  It is too much.  I don’t need this kind of pressure when I am dealing with the stress of all the money I have.

By day 14 I asked my roommate to move out.  He is a leach.  He eats my food and takes advantage of my generosity.  How bad will it get when he realizes how wealthy I am?  I can’t control that.  It’s too much.  I need to protect my assets!

By day 21 I have lost my job.  My roommate is moving his furniture out and I am locked in my bedroom with my ticket.  I can hear him talking with his friends as they carry heavy items out the door.  I had forgotten all the furniture was his.  He taps on my door to say goodbye but I don’t answer.  If I pretend I am not here they won’t overpower me and take my ticket.

By day 30 I am homeless.  My family has tried to reach out to me but I am afraid they will take advantage of my wealth.  They don’t understand that I need to protect myself from everyone.  I need to protect my ticket.  I keep it in a ziplock and tape it to my chest.  I hide in between buildings during the day and scrounge for food at night.  I have to be careful to avoid any contact with people so no one can steal my treasure.