“Wait ‘til tomorrow.  I’ll check the paper so we won’t have to pay for the phone call,” Greg answered.  He put his newspaper on the kitchen table and yawned.

“I can’t wait.  Come on!  It doesn’t cost that much to call.  I won’t be able to sleep tonight unless I know the results.”

 “Alright, alright,” Greg huffed.  He reluctantly rose from his chair and dialed the lottery information number.  He scribbled the winning numbers onto the pad next to the phone.

“Where are the tickets?”

“In my purse.”  Dawn slowly wrapped a long piece of brown hair around a bright pink curler.

“Where is your purse?”  Greg asked.

 “In the bedroom, on the chair.”  She pinned the curler in place and again repeated the ritual.

 “I want to win, Greg!  I want to walk into work tomorrow and tell my boss to go to hell!”

 “Yea, yea.  Don’t we all.”        

 “Don’t you dream, Greg?  Don’t you want to win?”

  “Sure, but I know it will never happen.”

 “It could happen.  That hope keeps me going.”

“The odds are stacked against us, honey.”

 “There’s still that one percent chance.”

 “Let me go see.”  Greg left the kitchen in search of lottery tickets.

****

“We won!  Baby, we won!”  Greg yelled from the bedroom in their trailer.  He ran into the kitchen and Dawn covered her mouth with both of her hands in disbelief.

“Are you for real?”  She stood up from the kitchen chair and smiled.

 “Yea!”  Greg kissed her on the cheek.  Dawn started to jump up and down, which caused some of her pink hair curlers to fall out.

 “Oh my God!  This is great!  I’m gonna’ sleep late tomorrow and then tell my boss to go to hell.  Then, I’m gonna’ go to my other job and tell that boss to go to hell, too!  I’m gonna’ buy Ray and Ashley all the new clothes they want; and then, we’ll all go out to eat in a real restaurant, not McDonalds!  Yes!  I know I’m rambling; I’m sorry—I’m in shock!”  Dawn watched Greg’s smiling face turn into a scowl.

 “What’s the matter?  You should be on top of the world right now.  We have to call Momma and tell her the good news.”  Dawn ran to the phone and began to dial her mother’s number.                                                                                                                                          

“No, don’t call Momma.  I was only kidding.”  Greg crumbled the lottery tickets and threw them up in the air.

“What do you mean?”  Dawn stopped dialing and looked at her husband.  “What are you doing?!”  She quickly picked up the crumbled lottery tickets off of the kitchen floor.

 “It was a joke.  I’m sorry.”  Greg leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at his wife.

“How could you do this to me?!”  Dawn screamed.  Her face grew red and her green eyes began to tear.

“For once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, things would go our way for a change!  How can you be so cruel?”

“I didn’t mean to be cruel; it was stupid of me.  I’m sorry, Dawn.”

“Do you realize that our son hates going to school because the kids make fun of his clothes?  Do you realize how much that hurts me?  Because I’m working two jobs and we still can’t afford to dress our kids properly!  I thought that for one moment, I might be able to change all that for him…and now you say you’re ‘sorry’?  You don’t know the meaning of the word!”  Dawn threw the lottery tickets and sat in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“Honey?”  Greg asked as he knelt on the floor next to his wife.  He put his hand on her back and listened to her soft cries.

 “What?”  Dawn lifted her head up and looked at her husband.                                                                                                                                             

“Never mind….”

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About the author:   Christine Bruness is U-K's reigning Essay Contest Champion!


Email: chatnoir@comcast.net

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