The Lucky Numbers

Chris Coles

January 2006

"It's my natural pheromones. It drives women wild. Men too."

"And all kinds of animals, I'll bet," she said. "Just don't go to the zoo. There could be a tragedy."

"One time I was on the beach and a whale beached itself just trying to mate with me. Hey."

"What?"

"Your kitchen sucks. You need something better. Here, look."

He turned the magazine to a dog-eared page and showed her the photo spread of the Tuckers' new kitchen in Bockston. Mrs. Tucker stood with crossed arms and an amused expression in the corner that the counters made, looking at the camera as if to say that she had a new kitchen, so what do you say about that? She had a point. The gray-speckled countertops flashed white where backlight reflected, the wood cabinets bragged that they were expensive, and rounded brushed aluminum fittings - door handles, faucets, backsplash, trim - gleamed their special dull gleam of quiet brand-new-metal pride.

"Pretty nice," Jenny said. "Does it say how much it cost?"

"They never tell you that. But here's the architect's name, Patrick Miller. From Burlingame."

"That must have been expensive, then, if he went all the way to Bockston."

"Cheaper here. Closer. Hey, I bought a lottery ticket today. That's like having money in the bank. This is the winner, I can feel it."

"Get outta here. You and your Lotto tickets."

Saturday night came, and in Sacramento two beautiful women, tall and slim in clinging silky dresses and stiletto heels, one blond and one brunette but otherwise exactly alike, stood on either side of a genial handsome man in a tuxedo and took turns plucking ping-pong balls from the chute. 12, then 18, then 45, then 2, then 5, then 35. And the Power Number, 42. Ralph's ticket had little to do with these numbers, other than the 45 (in two lines on the ticket, the number he always asked for on his basketball jerseys before he got too old to play, 'my number'), the 18 once, on the same line as a 45 for a two-dollar payout (18, his age when he first tried marijuana and had sex, although not on the same night). Ralph's ticket would have won if only he had chosen these other lucky numbers:

12, the age Uncle Jim had told him he had an aptitude for mechanical work when young Ralph held a crescent wrench firmly on a stuck bolt, so Uncle Jim could break it loose and change the belt on the lawnmower.
2, the number of Ralph's children from his first marriage, and in fact the sum total of all his children, although he had also adopted his first wife's daughter and he considered it possible that he might have a child in Vietnam somewhere, child of a woman he had lived with there briefly and missed sometimes.
5, the age he had learned to read from a little book about a little yellow duck who wanted to walk South instead of fly. Little Ralph was actually reading, although his mother thought he was just reciting based on the pictures, and he heard her say so to his father.
35, the number of tulip bulbs Jenny had planted in the bed at the west side of the house exactly 35 days ago while Ralph watched the Mavericks beat the Nuggets by 5 points.

Power Number 42 was also within Ralph's grasp. This was the number of days left before he would be summoned to Bake the Snake's office to be told he was let go, there would be no severance, and Kastracorp needed no reason for this action. A more astute office politician than Ralph would have been able to calculate this ahead of time.

As it turned out, for a number of reasons that included the kitchen and the hot tub, Ralph and Jenny laid warm and sleepy in bed late next Sunday morning 39 days before he was fired and decided to refinance their little house and pull out the cash. 35 days after this, they deposited the big check and had a nice dinner at Applebee's. Ralph had two Margaritas and the riblets-and-chicken-fingers basket; Jenny had an oriental chicken salad and a Pina Colada.

On the day he was fired, Ralph went and had a drink, too, at a not-too-depressing bar he passed every day when he went home. He walked into the gloom, greeted the other patrons vaguely and ordered a shot of rye, straight up because this is what a tough guy would order in an old movie.

He had always wanted to do that. Pulling out his little wallet to pay, he remembered the Lotto ticket, which he had never checked. He looked at it and put it back in his wallet.

After he knocked back the rye in one toss like Robert Mitchum, he walked out of the bar and into the liquor store next door. He showed the ticket to the Korean man at the counter.

"Can you check this for me?" he asked.

"Sure."

The man placed the ticket into the scanner toward the rear of his glass counter crowded with snacks and gum. He clicked his tongue. "Lucky today," he said, "You win two dollars."

Ralph felt a little dizzy from the booze. He said, "Let it ride," out of the side of his mouth with half-closed dangerous eyes, like Mitchum. He put another five on the counter and said, "Seven bucks, cash value, you pick 'em."

The man said, "That's the way," and printed the ticket. "You want this?" he said, holding up the old one. No, Ralph said, I'm done with it.

The Korean man, who believed in luck with his whole heart, said, "Good luck to you, sir."

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