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The very next day, Zoë-Grace was sitting at her desk in the college’s staff room, preparing to leave for the day, when the receptionist called to advise her she had a visitor.
A visitor? Who could that be? She asked herself as she made her way to the front office. When she saw the Nizani Negril logo on the vehicle in the parking lot, she sighed. What was Isaiah doing here?
She couldn’t decide if she was happy or disappointed when she stepped into the front office and was greeted by a gentleman she didn’t recognize. When the receptionist, who was known across the campus for her ability to conjure up gossip out of thin air, welcomed her with a pleasant “Here she is,” Zoë-Grace indicated that the man should walk with her to the vehicle. There was no need to get tongues wagging at the college.
Before she could say more than “Good afternoon,” the man handed her an envelope and took a step backward as if he expected her to try to return it. “Cap’n Hendricks said I should hand this to you personally, ma’am. Have a good day.”
Zoë-Grace shook her head in disgust as she turned the small package over in her hand. It was a plain envelope with nothing but her name and the college’s name written on it in large uppercase letters. Before she could say a word, the stranger moved into the vehicle, which he had left running, and made a quick exit. Zoë-Grace couldn’t help but wonder what Isaiah had told him to expect. Whatever it was, he’d probably been right. Short of standing in front of the van and allowing him to drive over her, there was nothing she could do but watch the man leave.
She returned to her desk and sat, looking around to make sure the coast was clear before opening the envelope. As she had both anticipated and feared, she found the ticket inside. It was accompanied by a handwritten note in the same scrawl she’d seen on the envelope.
Zoë-Grace,
I called the lottery company. There’s a 45-day window to present the ticket or forfeit the prize. We’re almost at the halfway point. It’s only fair that you and I should split the winnings equally.
The winner has to collect the prize in person and agree to have their name and photo used in promotional material. I’m told winners often end up in the news. They said past winners have gone to great lengths to disguise their appearance, but their names must be published. If you’re worried about having your name out there, I have no issue being the face and name of this thing. No one will come hounding me for money.
I’m not sure why you’re so resistant, but clearly, you have a problem being in possession of this ticket. I have a problem, too. The truth is, without me, you couldn’t have bought this particular ticket, and without you, I wouldn’t have bought it. So here we are.
Perhaps, for reasons that are unclear to me, winning the lottery is not the ideal thing for your complicated life, but I intend to make the very best of this situation. That said, I cannot and will not accept the full prize. We need to come to a consensus. And soon.
Don’t try to return the ticket to me. I’ll only keep sending it back. Why? Because I trust you not to keep all the money and because I need you to meet me halfway on this. You can do whatever you want with your half: keep it, share it among the students, donate it to the college, burn it... whatever you choose. You can also choose to tear up the ticket and return to your complicated life.
The ball is in your court. I look forward to hearing from you.
Isaiah
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She retired to her bedroom earlier than usual. Although she generally tried to avoid her mother like the plague, today, she was too anxious to even have dinner. She tried distracting herself from her predicament by doing what she usually did—reading eBooks, listening to audiobooks, and watching YouTube videos on her phone, but her mind was wandering way too much for that. Instead, she tried to focus on what she needed to do.
She had to make a decision about the lottery ticket, and soon. She tried praying, but she didn’t know exactly what to pray for or about. She tried making a list of pros and cons, but there was no clear winner. On the ‘Pros’ side, she wrote ‘financial freedom for life’ and on the ‘Cons’ side, ‘conscience burdened for life.’ While she could certainly appreciate being able to cover all the debts she had incurred in the last year, as well as provide for herself and her mother, she didn’t think she would be able to live with herself. In her opinion, gambling was flat-out wrong, and she didn’t want to have to justify her lifestyle to anyone—especially herself—for the next seventy years.
The next day, she spent the morning marking exam papers in the conference room set aside for the purpose before heading to the staff room around lunch time. She knew something was up when she stepped inside and saw most of the others gathered around Miss Clemmings’ desk with the newspaper spread out in front of them.
“What’s going on?” she wanted to know. She rarely ever read newspapers or watched the news these days. Most of the time she felt like she was suffering from over-exposure. There was way too much information available. If she should try to keep up with the local and international news, she would become overwhelmed by all the negative things happening everywhere. Her rational mind told her that lots of good things were being reported, too, but it seemed like the good news was being buried below too many stories about murders, mass shootings, murder-suicides, rape, missing children, natural disasters, and more.
Her heart leaped within her chest when she realized what they were discussing.
“The lottery company says the person who has the winning ticket contacted them but hasn’t come forward,” Miss Clemmings volunteered.
“O-oh?” Her voice cracked in the middle of the short word, and she hoped none of them noticed.
Mr. Lewis laughed. “Pity it wasn’t me. I would have been at that office before they opened the morning after the drawing!” He let out a loud laugh that grated on Zoë-Grace’s nerves.
“What will they do if the person doesn’t turn up?” Zoë-Grace asked.
“According to this report, any unclaimed winnings after forty-five days will go to a couple of government agencies.”
“I wonder what could make somebody really buy a lottery ticket and then not claim the prize, even though they know they won the money.”
As her colleagues continued to speculate, Zoë-Grace felt ill. She wished she could take the rest of the day off, but she needed to finish grading papers.
She headed back to her desk, hoping they wouldn’t notice her change of mood. How would they respond if she were to turn up and collect the prize? Thankfully, if she decided to take Isaiah up on his offer, he would be the one to have his name in the media. She sighed. Decisions, decisions.
She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and slipped it out. She had received a photo from Isaiah. When she tapped to view it, all she saw was a picture of the newspaper headline, “Lottery Winner Wavering.” She sucked her teeth rudely and deleted the photograph before dropping the phone into the top drawer of her desk and slamming the drawer shut, attracting the attention of the other professors. She waved nonchalantly, a fake smile on her face, before she opened the first book she could get her hands on and stuck her nose into it, careful to keep the book flat on the desk in case it was upside down. They all took the hint and returned to their conversation.
Not for the first time, she wished she was sitting in her private office in Kingston. She wished her father hadn’t died. She wished she hadn’t moved. She wished she hadn’t had to settle for a teaching job. She wished she hadn’t started teaching probability. And, most importantly, she wished she hadn’t bought those lottery tickets that were turning her world inside-out and upside down!