Lucky(55)

Lucky’s heart was beating fast. She took the flask. Whatever it was burned its way down her throat and she tried not to sputter and cough. She had hoped it would give her courage, but she had to take one more gulp before she could say, “Yes, I’m related to John Armstrong.”

“I didn’t think he had any people still alive. Lost his family in a car crash when he was little. God, haven’t thought about him in years. How is he?”

“In prison.”

“Can’t say as I’m surprised by that.” Gloria tipped the flask her way again, but Lucky shook her head. “You see much of him, ever visit?”

“I’m his daughter.”

Gloria hit the brakes and the truck skidded on gravel. She turned down the lane toward the camp. “His kid?” She parked the truck in front of her trailer.

Now was the time. She had to do this. Lucky lifted the crucifix out from under her T-shirt, turned to Gloria, and held it up. “I’m your kid, too. The one you left behind, in Queens.”

Gloria looked down at the crucifix on the chain around Lucky’s neck. “What the hell are you talking about, and what the hell is that?”

“I’m your daughter. This necklace is all I have of you. He said you were—” It sounded so ridiculous now that she had met Gloria, but still she pressed forward. “He said you were very religious. This crucifix was yours. And you left it for me, when you had to leave us. Because you had postpartum depression and couldn’t stay. I forgive you, I just want to get to know you.”

Gloria let out a barking laugh. “He told you that, hey?” She reached forward and touched the cross on Lucky’s chain, holding it in her calloused fingers before letting it drop. “Girl, I am not your mother, or anyone’s. Got an infection when I was a teenager and had all my internal lady bits removed. John said he didn’t mind—but then he got to hankering for a kid, and one day, he came home with one. You, I guess.”

“Me… you guess?”

“That’s why I took off on him. It was the craziest thing, just picking you up like that off those church steps. He should have called the police.”

Lucky stared at her. What was she saying? That John had found her somewhere?

Gloria squinted down at the crucifix. “He came home with you in his arms and was rambling something about finding you on some church steps, telling some nun you were his, and the nun giving him that necklace so he could buy you some baby formula and diapers. He came home with a lot of things that weren’t his—but a baby was a goddamn first.”

Lucky didn’t want this to be true. She reached for the door handle, her cheeks hot with a shame she couldn’t trace the source of, tears welling up behind her eyes. Damned if she was going to sit in Gloria’s pickup truck and cry over the truth about where she had really come from.

“Wait,” Gloria said. “Don’t go. You’re shocked. I get that. But you wouldn’t have come to me unless you had no place else to go. Right? Maybe we can team up.”

“Team up?”

Gloria tilted the flask her way; Lucky shook her head, numb. “I’m getting sick of this place, sick of this life, ya know? And—and seeing you, thinking about John, as bad as it was with him, is reminding me of some big dreams I had, once. It just seems there’s only one way to make those dreams come true at this stage in my life, and that’s the fast track. If you were raised by John Armstrong, then you know what I mean by that.”

Lucky clutched the crucifix with her fingers, then pulled on it. She wanted the chain to break, but it held fast.

“The people who live at the camp, most of them are older. Makes me wonder if there’s any way to skim a little extra off them without anyone getting suspicious. You know? But without a partner, it’s hard to do. Except now, here ya are. John Armstrong’s daughter, with a fast hand at shortchanging. I’m sure he taught you a few other things, too. Right?” she pressed.

This time when Gloria passed the flask to Lucky, she took it, and let a big gulp burn and sear its way down her esophagus. “He sure did.”

“So whaddya say? Got any ideas on how we can pair up and make some fast cash?”

Lucky hated it, the way that bubbly, excited feeling surfaced against her will and started coursing through her veins again. The way she suddenly felt alive, the way she suddenly believed she had the chance to be something, to be someone. The way even though she knew Gloria was not her mother, she had wanted to be loved by her for so long, she could do nothing but clutch at this chance.

Picked up off some church steps.

She closed her eyes, briefly. She was nothing but trash.

“I’ve got tons of ideas, Gloria. There’s always a brighter future ahead.” It was true, wasn’t it? There just might be.



* * *




A few mornings later old Al Hinch, who lived in trailer number 11, peered at Gloria and Lucky with his rheumy eyes and frowned as they stood on the deck of his trailer. “You’re sure?” he said.

“?’Fraid so, Al,” Gloria said. “Sarah here, my niece, just graduated from architecture school, and I asked her to come have a look at everyone’s trailers round here as a favor.” Lucky frowned now, too, because that wasn’t exactly what they had discussed. Architecture was too vague; Gloria was supposed to say structural engineering but had clearly forgotten. Al didn’t seem to notice. He lived alone with a rakish dog named Mutt, and the day before he had smiled and waved hello when Lucky passed his trailer. Now Lucky was grateful she was wearing sunglasses, because she couldn’t meet his eyes. But she needed to do this, needed to work with Gloria a little so she could figure out whether she could trust her with the lottery ticket. So if she asked her to go cash it in for her, it wouldn’t feel like she was trusting a stranger with the most important thing in her life.