Lucky(56)

“We’re going around and checking out everyone’s place. And Sarah and me are going to do the work on our own, so you’ll get a deal on materials and labor. Six hundred, flat rate. Pay us cash and we won’t charge you no taxes.”

A sigh. “All right then. I’ll get you the money by the end of the week.”

“Sounds good, Al. And we’ll get started on fixin’ your skirting ventilation right soon.”

They moved along to the next trailer, knocked on the door, poked around underneath it, and declared it to be fine—even though it was in the exact same shape as Al’s had been. Two more trailers were given the all-clear before they found two more in a row with the same supposed skirt ventilation issue.

It took a few days to get through all the trailers on the property, and only two residents started arguing and said they were going to call in their own professional to take a look. “They won’t bother,” Gloria told Lucky. “And they’ll get worried when they see all their neighbors getting the fix-ups. They’ll do it. Trust me, I know these people. Honestly, what a fabulous idea. You’re brilliant, girl.”

“Thanks,” Lucky said, and felt a dull pleasure at the compliment.

“Want to have dinner with me? I’m no chef, but I got a lasagna in the freezer and some beer in the fridge. Maybe even a little vino. Yeah?”

“Oh. That would be nice.” Lucky thought of the wilting bag of lettuce in her fridge. “I could bring a salad…”

“Nah, no need. Tomato sauce is a vegetable, right? Why don’t you just come sit on down here on the porch while I pop it in the oven? We’ve had a long day, we need refreshments.”

Gloria’s front deck looked out at the horse pasture. Lucky sat and watched the animals in the fading light. The pony was trotting back and forth on one side of the field while one of the little girls who lived in the trailer park hung on the fence and watched her. The three horses were hunkered around the hay pile.

Lucky heard one of the floorboards creak on the porch. Gloria was back, a bottle of Blue Moon in each hand, an orange slice shoved into the top of each one. “Ya see that, I got fancy for ya. It’s not often I have a guest.”

Gloria popped the orange slice inside the bottle and took a swig, and Lucky did the same. “Saw them do this at a restaurant once, thought it tasted pretty good when I tried it,” Gloria said.

Later, Gloria brought the lasagna out on plastic plates with a floral pattern around the edges, plus paper napkins and knives and forks for them to eat with on their laps. She also had a dusty bottle of wine she said had been a Christmas gift from someone who used to live at the camp. “Been saving it,” she said. “But I never have company.”

It tasted sour, but Lucky drank it anyway. She was nervous. She kept imagining herself telling Gloria about the ticket, asking for her help. Once it was out, she wouldn’t be able to take it back. But who other than Gloria could help her with this?

“Hey, ya know what?” Gloria said a little later. “I got some pictures of John, from back then, when we were together. I know he’s not really your dad—but did you want to see them anyway?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She went inside and came out with an envelope, opened it to reveal a handful of old snapshots of Gloria and John almost thirty years before. Gloria had been surprisingly attractive, pert-faced and trim, smiling up at John like he was the best thing she had ever seen. He was looking at her the same way—but he could look at every woman like that, if he wanted to. Lucky knew that.

Gloria put down the photographs and sipped her wine. “I sure was in love with him, for a while. He used to tell me there weren’t nothing we couldn’t do together, that I was all he had.”

Lucky drained her wineglass; Gloria refilled it. “He used to say the same thing to me,” Lucky said.

“I’m sorry,” Gloria said. “It’s a shitty deal you got. I wish I could help you out more than I am.” She shook the nearly empty bottle. “Want me to go in and get us something stronger, something that’ll really take the edge off?”

“Sure, why not?”

A few moments later, she accepted whatever moonshine Gloria handed her, slugged it back, and held out her glass. “Attagirl,” Gloria said. “This will make it all better.”

Gloria’s lips and teeth were purple from the wine and her hair was even more askew than usual. She settled back in her chair and kept talking. Lucky tried to focus on her, but whatever had been in the glass was strong. Her vision blurred as Gloria spoke. “I told him he needed to take you to a police station, you know, and when he refused, I left him. That was it for us. Never saw him again—though I did sometimes wonder what had happened with all that. Hoped, for once, that he had decided to do the right thing. Figured he’d have a few days of diapers and no sleep and change his mind. Apparently not.” She kept on talking and Lucky closed her eyes. Eventually, Gloria’s words just became noise, blended with the chorus of crickets and hum of cicadas and trucks speeding past out on the road. At some point, she felt Gloria putting a blanket over her knees, and then it was silent and dark and Lucky was asleep.





September 2008

BOISE, IDAHO



“Cary! Where are you?”

Her panicked voice brought Cary downstairs, his footsteps pounding. “Are you okay?”