Princess, Purses, and a Pea

Elizabeth's date, Alise, had spent the whole of dinner talking tarot, numerology, astrology, astral travel, spirit guides, angels. Elizabeth wondered that one could imagine so many correspondences and portents in a single habitable universe. But she didn't argue. These things, she knew, were matters of belief, not reason. And besides, though basically friendly and attractive, a petite blonde in t-shirt and jeans, Alise might've deflated if metaphysics abandoned her. Elizabeth tried not to judge, even now and then asked a question. She had only to get through dinner, the date clearly a misfire. Why Alise had messaged her—eight years older, a statistician—Elizabeth could not see. Casting a wide net? But, so pretty, could she need to? Elizabeth wasn't surprised when Alise said as they signed their card slips, “Is it okay if we skip the movie?”

“Absolutely,” said Elizabeth, smiling genially. “I understand.”

“Let's go to your place.”

Elizabeth, smile still fixed, was brought up short. Was this young woman something more than an eccentric? A con? A thief? She began a bland refusal, “Well, you seem very nice, but...”

“We could go to my place, but I have roommates.”

Elizabeth's upper brain calculating trouble, she felt herself also getting excited. She summoned resistance enough for one excuse. “I have to be in bed in a couple of hours. Work in the morning. Probably shouldn't go out on weeknights.”

“That's okay. I don't have to stay long,” Alise rebutted and beamed. Elizabeth had no more to play. With another woman less disarming, less otherwise all-around “cute,” she'd have found more. But suddenly she saw she wanted what she assumed was coming. Curiosity warmed her body.

But time together with Alise at her place turned out muddled as talk at dinner. Alise told a lot about her family and friends, their jobs and loves and plans, with assisting or inhibiting symbols and omens. Elizabeth eyed the wall clock. What was going on here? After an hour she'd had enough. “I'm glad you could come by, but I really need to get to bed.”

“You have a nice place,” said Alise, standing. “Thanks for having me over. I knew this date would turn out well. I always check my transits.”

Elizabeth moved to the door.

“Want my number,” Alise asked, “so we don't have to message on the site?”

Easier to agree, Elizabeth said, “Oh. Sure,” and went to pick up a pen and small black notebook from an end table.

Alise crinkled her nose. “You don't put it in your phone?”

Elizabeth laughed. “I'm an office supply junky.”

“Oh cool. You know,” Alise said, pausing in the entryway, “I really like you so far.” And when she stepped up for a kiss, Elizabeth didn't stop her—a long, delicious kiss that almost, Elizabeth thought, made up for the missed sex. Though they'd spoken superficially, Alise's silenced lips carried the affection of a close partner. Odd to think that without the benefit of crystals Elizabeth would never see this woman again.

A crash and jarring, Alise jerked loose. “Oh shit, my purse!” Elizabeth watched, a bit lightheaded, as Alise squatted on the boards and gathered items back into her great green fabric bag. Finished, “Call me!” she said, and rushed out the door.

About to leave for work the following morning, Elizabeth found on the entryway floor the Powerball ticket. How predictable, Elizabeth thought, that someone who believes in karma should also play the lottery. The ticket was probably trash, an old loser. Could Elizabeth be obliged to return it? The idea of seeing Alise again made her shoulders tighten. A wedge so thin couldn't possibly keep this door ajar. Her purse pocket held the black book holding Alise's number. Running behind, Elizabeth slid the ticket in to join it and opened the door.

At Marks Grocery, stopping for a few things after work, Elizabeth noticed at the front service counter the Powerball display. Here, her opportunity to settle. What she was about to ask seemed funny to her.

“Yep, it's a new one,” the older man clerking said, checking a computer. “Congratulations!”

“It's a winner?”

“Oh yeah. $20,000! Know how to redeem it?”

Returning the ticket to her purse, Elizabeth said softly as a confessing criminal, “It's not mine.”

“Well, hold onto that! For whoever.”

In Marks' parking lot, not wanting to delay, edgy, sitting on explosives, Elizabeth found Alise's number in her notebook, almost a scrawl. She'd written it quickly in the half-dark only to humor. Now late spring sun shined through the windshield, and two of the digits she struggled to place. Elizabeth's first dial Alise answered.

“Hi, Alise, this is Elizabeth, from last night. I was just calling to let you know I found something...”

“Where are you?” Alise cut in, voice intense.

“Well, right now I'm at Marks Grocery, but I could meet...”

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Alise said and hung up. Elizabeth thought of calling back, protesting, no, she would not wait in a parking lot, but felt oddly too in the wrong, guilty of something unsaid but known. She wanted that feeling to quit her and decided it was good Alise would come right away, wanted to hurry. She would come to claim her winner.

Spotting Alise, vivid in a yellow sundress, scoping the lot the quarter-hour later, Elizabeth got out of her car and shouted, “Over here!” Alise heard, turned, approached quickly. Hoping to make the hand-off short, Elizabeth took the ticket from her purse, began a greeting.

“You're my princess,” said Alise, interrupting, ignoring the offered ticket.

Elizabeth groped at a fair answer. “Oh, it's nothing. I just thought you'd want...”

“You could've kept it, but you didn't. Or you could've thrown it away and not cared. But you cared. You even checked. You called me.” Finally Alise smiled. “It was my pea under your mattresses. Now I know you're my princess.”

And still without accepting the ticket Elizabeth remained dumbly holding, Alise came forward, almost leaped, and kissed her, a kiss as deep and moving as the night before's, other early evening shoppers, with kids and full carts, nonexistent. To ask, “Who is this peculiar, reckless woman $20,000 richer?” didn't occur to Elizabeth. She felt perfectly, unusually attuned.

They separated. Alise took Elizabeth's hands, ticket again disregarded. Shyly she asked, “Want to go to a movie?”

“Yes,” breathless, answered Elizabeth. “That'd be fun.”

“Is there anything you'd like to see?”

Elizabeth considered. “Let's pick two and flip a coin.”

Alise, surely understanding, agreed.