Dawn Corrigan<\/p>\n
There were plenty of amusements to choose from in the city where Tommy and Annette lived — concerts, the theatre, the famous circus from Moscow. But what they liked best was dining out. And the love affair was mutual. Wherever they went, maitre d\u2019s softened at the sight of the glowing young pair. Waiters and musicians fluttered around Annette as though she were a movie star.<\/p>\n
During their first year of marriage, they dined out every Friday night. The next morning, they would sleep in for as long as they liked, then prepare an enormous breakfast. But once the pancakes and sausages were consumed and the dishes were washed, the reality of their week began. Together they\u2019d sit down with the checkbook to calculate what they owed that week — to the landlord, the electric company, and the church, for they\u2019d financed their own wedding and were still paying off the debt — and determine what small amount was left for food and other daily expenses. They\u2019d decide how much could be spent at the butcher, the greengrocer\u2019s, and the bakery. Then Annette would set off to do the shopping.<\/p>\n
At first, Tommy had gone with Annette. Then he noticed the way the shopkeepers looked at her, and he surmised their grocery money might stretch a little further if Annette went on her own. After that he kissed her each Saturday afternoon and sent her on her way. And it was true: afterward she often came home with an extra pound of meat, or a cut above what she\u2019d actually ordered, after a trip to the butcher\u2019s; and one Saturday when she ordered a loaf of sliced pumpernickel from the baker she returned with a loaf of sliced pumpernickel and a caramel cake that was so delicious Tommy had eaten the whole thing by Sunday night.<\/p>\n
The following Saturday as Annette was heading out to run her errands, Tommy stopped her at the door. \u201cYou\u2019re wearing that<\/em>?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n Annette looked down at her navy blue suit in surprise. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNothing at all,\u201d Tommy said, hustling her back toward the bedroom. \u201cOnly this is even prettier,\u201d he added, picking a flowered dress out of the wardrobe. \u201cEspecially when you wear it with a ribbon in your hair.\u201d<\/p>\n Suddenly Annette understood. \u201cYou want another cake!\u201d she exclaimed, snatching the hair ribbon out of his hand. \u201cAnd you think this<\/em> is going to get it for you!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPlease, honey. I need<\/em> that cake.\u201d<\/p>\n That night, and for many Saturdays to come, there was caramel cake for dessert. Tommy, who\u2019d weighed 120 at their wedding, gained thirty pounds within six months. But far from tiring of the cake his craving for it only seemed to grow; so now, on their Friday evenings out, though he enjoyed the rest of the meal as much as ever, he was always disappointed during dessert; for no restaurant offering, no matter how creamy or chocolaty or light or rich or dense or dark, could compare with his weekly caramel cake from the neighborhood bakery.<\/p>\n But one Saturday when Annette went out to do her chores, the bakery had disappeared. The \u201cWalker\u2019s\u201d sign was gone. The large plate glass window, which had formerly been filled with pastry and rolls, was boarded up. When Annette peered through the crack between two boards she saw that everything inside had disappeared as well: no cash register, no display cases, not even a discarded curl of red-and-white string remained.<\/p>\n Annette rushed into the fish market next door. \u201cWhere\u2019s the bakery?\u201d she exclaimed, but the fishmonger just shrugged and shook his head sadly, as though to indicate that the story of the baker\u2019s disappearance was too tragic for words, though perhaps he only meant he didn\u2019t know. Annette tried at the dry cleaners and the five-and-dime as well, but nobody could tell her what had happened.<\/p>\n When she\u2019d asked everyone on the block, Annette turned her heavy steps toward home, stopping only at her butcher\u2019s and at another bakery located next door to it. Though they couldn\u2019t really afford it, she splurged and bought some steak at the butcher\u2019s. At the new bakery she bought the week\u2019s bread and a chocolate cake.<\/p>\n Annette debated long and hard about the latter purchase, because she knew Tommy wouldn\u2019t be easily placated by the loss of the caramel cakes. She didn\u2019t want to seem cavalier about his loss. But finally she thought, \u201cWell, a person must have something<\/em> for dessert.\u201d<\/p>\n But when she arrived home Tommy\u2019s reaction to the news was even worse than she\u2019d feared. \u201cOh, no!\u201d he moaned, and sank down on the couch in a swoon, rising only to eat the steak and a salad she\u2019d prepared, and, after a show of some reluctance, a large slice of the chocolate cake. His face wore an expression of anguish the entire time he consumed his dessert.<\/p>\n Forever after this period in their lives, the caramel cake, and eventually even the lost baker himself, became the symbol of a kind of perfection for Tommy.<\/p>\n On Saturday evenings Tommy had to work at the Post Office. After dinner he\u2019d go back to the bedroom to change into his uniform, emerging a moment later with the blue shirt draped over one arm and his other hand held before his mouth in the shape of a bugle, pretending to blow taps. When he finished he\u2019d snap his heels together and salute Annette. Then he\u2019d don his work shirt and leave the apartment.<\/p>\n Sometimes on Saturday nights Annette went out with friends from work, but more often she stayed home to clean house and watch a little TV. With Tommy gone it was more evident to her how poor they were. She\u2019d walk from room to room surveying the cracks in the ceiling, the scratched surfaces of worn Formica, the odd tilt of walls and floor that nowhere met at ninety-degree angles. Some nights she cried herself to sleep.<\/p>\n Unfortunately, Sunday morning wasn\u2019t much better. Tommy arrived home from work, but though he often brought some donuts with him, or a wedge of Gouda, his mood was foul. Before his coat was even off he\u2019d be railing about the profound stupidity of the man who worked at the next sorter over, or the vicious stupidity of his supervisor.<\/p>\n Annette knew Tommy\u2019s diatribe wasn\u2019t directed against her, that she was its audience and not its cause. Still, she didn\u2019t like it. Sundays tended to make Annette sad anyway: the weather always seemed gray on Sundays, and even when the sun was shining, it shone less brightly than on other days.<\/p>\n All these elements conspired against Annette\u2019s normally buoyant heart, so a Sunday afternoon often found her in tears. Then Tommy would shake off his own bad mood, wrap his arms around her, and pull her onto his lap. \u201cCome on now,\u201d he\u2019d say, \u201cit\u2019s all right. There\u2019s nothing to cry about. Let\u2019s go for a walk. We\u2019ll walk around to the drugstore and buy a lottery ticket.\u201d<\/p>\n Then Annette dried her eyes and grabbed her coat and they went out for a stroll about the neighborhood, winding up at Nicky\u2019s soda counter. There they bought their tickets. Some weeks, when money was extra tight, they\u2019d purchase only one number; other times, if the jackpot was up and they could afford it, they\u2019d buy as many as five.<\/p>\n Tommy was not above grabbing a QuikPick now and then, but Annette disapproved. \u201cWe have to work<\/em> for that money,\u201d she\u2019d say. Sometimes she\u2019d try combinations of numbers imbued with personal meaning: their birthdays, anniversary, and street address; other weeks she\u2019d poise her pen over the Lotto card like the pointer of a Ouija board and wait for inspiration to strike. At home she even set up a bowl with forty little pieces of paper crumpled permanently inside, and some weeks she drew numbers from the bowl.<\/p>\n When they finished they\u2019d return home and Tommy would put on a cup of tea. Then they\u2019d sit across from each other at the kitchen table and play the Lottery Game.<\/p>\n \u201cWho will go first?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou go.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, you go ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right, I\u2019ll go. The first thing I\u2019ll do,\u201d here Tommy threw his hands up in the air and waved them like a boxer after a victorious championship bout, \u201cis quit the Post Office!<\/em>\u201d He made a sound like stadium cheering. \u201cAnd you\u2019ll quit your job, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, maybe I won\u2019t right away. They\u2019ll need me through the holidays. Maybe I\u2019ll just work through the holidays and then I\u2019ll quit.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnnette, don\u2019t be ridiculous! Let them find someone else to work through the holidays!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnnette, it\u2019s my<\/em> turn! When it\u2019s your turn you can think about staying on at your silly job — though let me add right now, as your spouse I advise against it. But in my turn we definitely<\/em> both quit our jobs first thing.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen we\u2019ll move.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m going to tell you! . . . I don\u2019t know. Where do you want to move?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know. Where do you<\/em> want to move?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know. Somewhere by the ocean.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat sounds nice.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOkay. We\u2019ll buy a nice house by the ocean — \u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYes?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd we\u2019ll move into it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd we\u2019ll live happily ever after.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s it?\u201d Annette exclaimed. \u201cThat\u2019s your plan?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s not a plan at all! It\u2019s only the first step in a plan! A plan has to have more than one step! Besides, what about all the people we have to take care of?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLike who?\u201d Tommy asked.<\/p>\n \u201cLike your mother! Like my<\/em> mother! And what about my brother and Teresa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat about Teresa?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean, what about Teresa? Just because she\u2019s my stepmom you think I don\u2019t want to take care of her? She\u2019s been very good to me, just like a mother. And Sammie is my sister!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, of course,\u201d Tommy said, grinning at her.<\/p>\n \u201cWell that means we have to take care of them when we win!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOf course. But I\u2019m leaving all of that<\/em> up to you. After we buy the house — which I\u2019d like to have a say in selecting — you\u2019re<\/em> handling the money.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell then it\u2019s my turn.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell then,\u201d Annette began, making a frame with her hands and gazing through it as though she could see their future caught in some tree branches out the window, \u201cfirst<\/em> we\u2019ll get Teresa out of that factory and move her and Sammie into a nice little house. Then<\/em> we\u2019ll buy a little theatre for Eddie so he can direct his plays in it. Then we\u2019ll give something to Suzie — maybe we\u2019ll buy her a little house, too. Yes, that seems only fair. Then we\u2019ll have to give something to your mother and George; but how are we going to stop them from gambling away anything we give them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThere\u2019s no way to stop that from happening,\u201d Tommy said, shaking his head. \u201cNo way in hell<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s what I thought too. But then I thought, maybe we could set up a trust fund for them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSure. What\u2019s a trust fund?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s what rich people use to take care of their children and other people who aren\u2019t really capable of handling money on their own. I think they get it in installments or something.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThey should call it a no-trust fund, then,\u201d Tommy laughed. \u201cAnyway, it\u2019s trust funds all around for this family!\u201d He swung his teacup merrily through the air. \u201cA trust fund in every pot! Life, liberty, and the pursuit of trust funds! Hey, maybe we should set up a trust fund for ourselves<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n The lottery drawing was on Wednesday night. The broadcast came on at 11:00, after the news, and was hosted by a man named Bob and his assistant Sonya. The whole process was conducted with a great deal of pomp and ceremony, and Bob and Sonya dressed appropriately for it: Bob wore a tuxedo, and Sonya wore glittering evening gowns of a different primary color each week, to be shown off on the new color TVs that were being installed in living rooms throughout the city.<\/p>\n When Sonya appeared on the screen Tommy exclaimed, \u201cLook at Sonya! Doesn\u2019t she look beautiful this week?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cShe certainly does,\u201d Annette agreed. \u201cShe has such lovely taste in gowns.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd look at her hair!\u201d Tommy went on. \u201cI think she\u2019s wearing it in a new style.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIndeed she is,\u201d Annette said. \u201cAnd it\u2019s even more flattering than last week\u2019s style.\u201d<\/p>\n But when the numbers had been drawn and they did not match the Hogans\u2019, their tone changed. \u201cWhat a hag,\u201d Tommy snarled. And Annette chimed in: \u201cThat Sonya is an overly-made-up tart.\u201d<\/p>\n As though not winning the lottery wasn\u2019t bad enough, on Thursdays Annette and Tommy had dinner with Tommy\u2019s mother, Margaret, and her new husband, George.<\/p>\n Margaret had her own version of the lottery game. It went like this: when she grew angry at Tommy — when, though he generally tried very hard not to, he had offended her in some fashion, she\u2019d turn to him and pout, \u201cWhen I win the lottery, you<\/em> aren\u2019t getting any!\u201d Then she\u2019d elaborate a long list of who would receive her bounty, so Tommy could feel the full weight of his imaginary loss.<\/p>\n Later, when peace had been restored and Tommy was in her good graces again, Margaret would blow him kisses and say, \u201cWhen I win I\u2019m giving you everything<\/em>! Forget about everyone else! It\u2019s all<\/em> for you!\u201d<\/p>\n Tommy\u2019s response to both phases of Margaret\u2019s game — the part where he was penniless, and the part where he\u2019d been awarded the whole prize — was always the same. \u201cI don\u2019t want your money, Ma.\u201d<\/p>\n The next lottery Tommy participated in was one he would have been happy to lose. The country had gone to war, a terrible war in the name of which young men were being scooped up and flown away. Many never returned. The men were picked by lottery. All males over 18 had to register with the government, which then assigned their lottery numbers.<\/p>\n When his time came, Tommy had gotten drunk before staggering in to register at the branch of the Post Office where he worked, where for once the older men eyed him sympathetically. Ever since, he\u2019d been dreading the arrival of the mimeographed notice that would mean his number had been picked.<\/p>\n On the day it came, Tommy carried it in to show Annette with a stricken look on his face.<\/p>\n \u201cI have something to tell you,\u201d Annette said. \u201cI\u2019m pregnant.\u201d<\/p>\n Tommy swooped over and gave her a big hug. Any misgivings he might have felt about incipient fatherhood were swept away by one crucial, beautiful fact: the government wasn\u2019t taking men who were fathers to fight in its war. Not yet, anyway. And by the time it was, Tommy was too old, according to the government\u2019s own reckoning, to fight; and so he was safe.<\/p>\n When Mary, their firstborn, was a toddler, and Annette was pregnant with Peter, their second, they decided that the city where they\u2019d grown up, though beloved to them in many ways, not least in its variety of restaurants, was not where they wanted to raise their children. So they scraped together some money, took out a loan, and bought a little house by the sea.<\/p>\n And though with hard work and prudence they eventually eked their way out of poverty, they still continued to play the lottery game in their new home. They played it for so long that eventually everything around them learned to play it too.<\/p>\n Their little house said to the house next door, When I win the lottery, I\u2019ll have new siding that won\u2019t rust<\/em>.<\/p>\n The cat said to the squirrels, When I win the lottery, Peter will bring me chicken every<\/em> day for lunch<\/em>.<\/p>\n One Japanese maple said to the other, When we win, we\u2019ll have fertilizer<\/em> sprinkled with jewels and gold dust.<\/em><\/p>\n DAWN CORRIGAN<\/strong>\u2019s poetry and prose have appeared in a number of print and online journals. Her debut novel, an environmental mystery called Mitigating Circumstances<\/em>, was published by Five Star\/Cengage in January 2014. She lives in Gulf Breeze, Florida and works in the affordable housing industry.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Dawn Corrigan There were plenty of amusements to choose from in the city where Tommy and Annette lived — concerts, the theatre, the famous circus from Moscow. But what they liked best was dining out. And the love affair was … Continue reading