Your Lucky Day

He’d said his name was Donald, but I knew that was a lie. When I’d asked him his name, he’d said “Ddddonald,” dragging out the “d” as if he was making it up as he went along. His real name probably did begin with a “d,” but he’d backed off the truth mid-word. Sometimes it’s smarter to lie, especially in a bar to a stranger.

“So do you work at the shipyard?” he’d asked. We were at a bar near the factory.

“Used to.”

“Oh.” He looked at me sympathetically. “Got laid off? I guess things are slowing down there now that the war’s over.”

“Yeah.” I’d actually been fired, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You from San Diego?”

I shook my head. “No.”

Donald smiled. “Me neither. I’m from New York. Heading home.”

“Me too,” I said. “I mean, I’m from New Jersey. But I’m heading back as soon as I can get money for the train, or bus.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t get out to Jersey much.”

Neither do I. In fact, never. But if he said he was heading east, so was I. He was probably about fifty, losing his hair, and his suit didn’t quite fit. Donald didn’t look like a high roller, but I’d noticed he was drinking champagne.

“What are you doing out here?”

“I’m in sales. But not much longer.”

“Oh yeah? Why not?”

He smiled, the special kind of smile that means you’ve gotten away with something. “I won big at the track. My money’s waiting for me in New York.”

I smiled my own kind of smile at him. “Aren’t you smart. How much?”

He leaned over and whispered, “$20,000.”

I gasped. “$20,000? At the track?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

I wasn’t sure I bought the horse racing part of the story, but I definitely believed the $20,000 part. He had the look of a man who was finally having his lucky day.

“Congratulations. Can I go to the track with you sometime?”

“Sure. When you’re in New York.” He paused. “Say, I got an idea—it’s a long drive and it can get lonely. How about I give you a ride? No funny business, I promise. I just need the company.”

“Well…I do need to get back east. My mother isn’t well.”

“Come on,” he urged. “It’ll make me feel good. Like I’m helping your mother out.”

I hadn’t seen or heard from my mother since I was five. I know most people would think it was risky, taking a cross-country trip with a stranger, but I was desperate to get away. There wasn’t anything for me here, and if he turned out to be a problem, well, I’d just dump him and start over wherever I landed.

We left the next morning and Donald, or David, or whatever, turned out to be true to his word. Not a hand on me, even when we were the only ones on the road. He had a brand new 1947 Packard with a car radio, and we sang along to the hits as we drove through Arizona that first day.

When we stopped for gas or food, he took out a small black notebook and wrote in it. The spine was bent and creased, as if he’d been using it a long time.

“You write down how much money you spend?”

“That, and other things.”

I grabbed the notebook away from him.

“Hey, give me that!”

“I just want to see what the other things are.”

The numbers jumped off the page at me. 15 East 33rd Street, #29. 36-23-7.

Donald smiled. “That’s where my money is. It’s in a safe in that apartment. That’s the combination.”

“It’s not in a bank?”

“I don’t trust banks.”

I nodded. I didn’t trust many things myself.

He pulled the notebook away from me. “So now you know. If anything happens to me, go get the money. Might as well. You deserve it more than the feds.”

“Well, thank you.” We both laughed. “But nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“I don’t know.” His smile disappeared and he turned serious. “It’s a long drive.”

I held up my hands. “I’m not armed. I’m not dangerous.”

He turned the key in the ignition and winked. “I guess not. Well, let’s get going. We’ve still got some daylight left.”

The sun was setting when Donald, or Douglas, or Dennis began to gasp for air. As the car veered across the yellow line, I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled over.

He slumped in the seat, struggling to breathe. I stood up and looked around, but there weren’t any other cars on the road, and no buildings in sight, just open road and desert. No one to help.

Donald grabbed my hand and pulled me down close to him. “The money—go get it.”

“No, don’t say that. We’ll both get it.” I knew that wasn’t true.

He gripped my hand tightly, and I looked him in the eyes until he stopped breathing.

I didn’t want to leave his body in the middle of the desert to rot in the sun. He’d been nice to me. Instead, I drove until I could see a town on the horizon and pushed his body out of the car near there. Someone would find it soon. I was sure of that.

What else could I do? Now, I hadn’t done anything wrong, of course. Even the money. He’d said that if anything happened to him, I could have it. It was mine. He’d said so. But I didn’t have that in writing anywhere, so it seemed smarter to cut all ties to him. I didn’t want anyone asking questions.

I’d taken the cash out of his wallet—$206, which would help me get to New York. His driver’s license had said his name was Desmond Lewis, but Donald Woods had fit him better. I don’t know if either name was real, though. I’d learned a long time ago not to believe too much.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the little black notebook on the passenger’s seat, and I thought about the secrets it held. $20,000. What would I do with that kind of cash? Diamonds, for sure. And a mink coat. The kind that I’d seem Hedy Lamarr wearing in a magazine. And I’d go to fancy nightclubs, and live in a big penthouse apartment.

No. That wouldn’t be sensible. Donald had said he was going to invest it in real estate. Buy land on Long Island, build some houses, and sell them. He said there’d be a lot of returning soldiers with young families looking for homes. I didn’t know anything about real estate, but I could learn. That’d be a way to turn $20,000 into…who knows? $200,000? $2,000,000?

I ditched the car outside of Chicago and bought a train ticket to New York. While I waited on the train platform, I took out the black notebook and began to rip out the pages. I tore each one into tiny shreds, then threw them in the air, where they danced like confetti. The wind from the passing trains carried them away, off to the west, away from my past. I kept the page with the address and safe combination, of course. I tucked that into the sole of my shoe, where I couldn’t lose it.

I got on the train and looked out the window. The sky was almost dark and I could see the moon in the clear sky. Telegraph lines whipped by and the land became emptier as we sped along the tracks. As I drifted off to sleep, I thought about the money waiting for me. Sure, it would change my life, but I guess I’d use some of it for charity, too. I could help orphans or something. It was never too late to become a good person.

***********************************

The sound of my heels clattering on the steps echoed in the stairwell. I paused, panting for air, and kicked off the shoes; I’d be faster without them. Clutching the envelopes of cash to my chest, I started running again. I could hear the men shouting a few floors below me, their heavy shoes pounding as they tried to catch up.

I didn’t need the shoes because I didn’t need the address. The money wasn’t in a safe. I’d had the cash since Donald died on that quiet stretch of Arizona road. I’d seen it in his wallet in the bar, and knew it was there when I agreed to get in the car with him to go to New York. I’d known it was there as he struggled to breathe on that empty roadway, as he gasped, “My pills—my pills—” I’d known his heart medicine was in the pocket of his coat, but pretended I couldn’t find it. The last thing he’d said was to bring the money to his wife Flora, at the address in the notebook.

Flora. What did she need the money for? He’d told me all about Flora. A nice lady from a nice family. She’d even gone to college and was a teacher until she met Donald, a successful salesman. She’d quit her job and stayed home to raise her kids while he worked hard, making more and more money that they were saving to invest in real estate, along with the money she’d inherited from her father. I bet Donald had had a life insurance policy too. $20,000. What did $20,000 mean to someone like Flora? Someone who’d never had a hard day in her whole, goddamn life. I’d thrown that address away onto the train tracks in Chicago.

I reached a door, pushed it open, and dashed out onto the flat rooftop. The air was still, and the sun shined brightly in the clear blue sky, like in Arizona.

I could hear one of the cops calling out. “Hold on, miss! We just want to talk to you about Donald Woods! We just want to talk!”

His name was Donald, I’d known that all along. He’d never lied to me about anything. I’d never told him the truth about anything.

I leaned against the ledge and put the envelopes on them. $20,000. I’d never had any luck, but I’d thought the day I’d met Donald that I had finally found some. I wish Donald had directly given it to me. I wish I could say I’d gotten it the right way. But wishes don’t come true, at least for people like me.

“We just want to talk to you! You’re not in any trouble.”

Yeah, they always say stuff like that. You’re never in trouble until suddenly you are. I don’t know who’d tipped them off. Someone must have found the car, and someone must have found Donald.

I pulled out the stacks of bills, rifling through them with my fingers, feeling the threading in them, crisp, still fresh from the bank where Donald had gotten them. When the cops got to me, they’d just give the money to Flora, Flora who already had everything I’d ever wanted, but was just born in the right place at the right time. Luck, I guess. Some people have it, some people don’t.

I wasn’t sure how far up I was. Maybe 10, 12 stories? I looked down. The Manhattan streets were crowded with people, all kinds of people, all trying to get somewhere, probably just trying to make it through the day and hoping that tomorrow would be better.

“Stop! Don’t jump! We just have questions!”

I leaned over the ledge, and opened my hands, then watched as the twenty dollar bills began to swirl and drift down. As the cops dragged me away from the ledge, I could hear the screams of the people below, who’d looked up and realized their good fortune.