Chapter 20

Wendy stopped at the convenience store slash gas station to fill up the Volvo. She pumped 20 gallons from the red hose into the 22 gallon tank, checked the oil and looked at the windshield washer fluid ... it was low ... so ... instead of pay at the pump like she usually did, Wendy hiked her cute little butt inside and bought a gallon of fluid, a cup of coffee a la Wendy ... half coffee and half hot chocolate. Standing at the counter, she noticed the Blue LOTTO Stand. Numbers popped into her head ... and, for the first time in her life, Wendy bought a Monster Millions lottery ticket. She picked up one of those forms and entered the numbers that were rattling like a mind worm song, stuck two bucks with it, got her ticket stashed in her purse and forgot about it.

Life moved as life does, two weeks went by and it was time to fill up the gas hog. It had been a very dusty, pollenated two weeks. The windshield washer got a lot of usage and it was empty again.

I just filled that up Friday, Wendy thought. It’s always something.

So ... for the second time in a month, Wendy went inside to pay. She picked up a gallon of the blue stuff for the washer bottle.

There was a banner over the register counter... We Sold A Winner! she read.

“What?” she asked the clerk.

“The BIG one,” the girl responded.

“Who to?”

“We don’t know, they haven’t come forward, yet,” said the clerk.

Wendy paid for her purchases ... including the cup of half coffee half hot chocolate and left.

Spring turned into summer, nearly every day the News was all about the lottery ticket.

The strap on her green purse broke and Wendy sniffled about it.

“David, I need a new purse,” she hollered down the basement steps.

“What?”

The sound of elephants charging up stairs.

I appeared in the doorway and handed her a package.

“Happy unbirthday, Wendy,” I said.

“Goof! My birthday was last May,” Wendy said.

“I know, it’s your UN birthday.”

She unwrapped an emerald green purse ... identical to the broken one.

“Oh god, David,” she sniffed new leather and cried. That called for a hug.

“I know you loved that purse so I found one on the ‘Net,” I said. “The last one made.”

“Thank you thank you thank you. I’ll just chance my junk,” and she dumped the old one out on the table. Quarters rolled off on the floor.

I sat down and started stacking money.

“I was just going to sweep it all into the new one,” she said.

“You need to get rid of useless junk,” I said.

“Okay,” Wendy said and sat. She went through paper and I stacked coins.

“Be right back,” I said.

Wendy never even looked up. She just waved me away.

I keep coin tubes and had a mess of them. I rolled pennies, nickels and dimes for 20 minutes. Then I went after the quarters.

“Wendy,” I said.

She was reading a dog-eared list from the last century. “What?”

“There’s two hundred and fifty dollars in quarters. No wonder you walk funny.”

“What?” she looked at the rolls of coin. “I don’t walk funny.”

I stuffed the coins in her purse and slung it on my shoulder. It slid off. I put it back on and hiked my hip and shoulder so the purse couldn’t slide and I walked away from and back to the table.

“You walk funny,” Wendy said.

“That’s what I said,” I said. “You walk funny.” I dumped it out and replaced the coins with money from my wallet. She finished sorting and stood. The purse went on her shoulder. The debris went in the trash.

“What about the old one?”

She tossed the broken purse in with the junk. It clunked.

I fished it out and turned it inside out. More coins clattered on the table. I tore out the lining. More coin and a twenty dollar bill ... and a lottery ticket.

“Wendy, get in the car.”