Lottery (5 page)

Louise and John are talking to a man dressed in black and arguing with each other. The badge on his chest says
Funeral Director
and below that it says
Steven
. That is a nice name, I think, as I look at the buttons on his suit. They are shiny and gold. He looks like an actor, all sad, and talks low like it was his Gram. I thought he must have known her. His face looks so glum.

“Hey, Steven, did you know my Gram?” When I say this, his face turns red.

“Don’t be stupid, Perry,” John says. He sounds mean. “He doesn’t know any better.” John’s hand covers his mouth. People do that just before they say something rude.

“Eight hundred bucks to cremate. What about an urn? Jesus! This brass one is over a hundred!” John’s voice is squeaky.

David pulls my hand and I get up. We walk around the room looking at dead-people stuff, like caskets and vases.

“This wood box is pretty. She would like that,” I say. It is square and glossy. The tag says it is made of walnut. The wood is smooth and cool like the door on our refrigerator.

“It’s called an urn. It’s for ashes. You’re probably the only one who knows what Gram would like.” David speaks very soft and looks at me. He does not scare me as much as John and Louise.

“We should buy this box,” I say.

The others stop talking and look at me.

“Yeah. Well. You’re not paying for it,” John says. I expect him to stick his tongue out at me, but he does not.

“I can. I can pay for it.” My voice comes out much louder than I want. It echoes around the room. I have five hundred and seventeen dollars in my checking account and payday is next week. My checkbook with my own name on it is in my pocket. I do not tell them about my savings account. Gram said not to.

“Perry, your savings account is your own goddamn business! Don’t you say a thing! Ever! It’s for your future,” Gram warned. “Our family ’s a bunch of vultures and don’t you forget it! Don’t you say one word!”

Vultures are animals, but they can be people too. Gram said that when she was alive. She is dead now. I keep forgetting this and start to worry. I know this because I reach up to my forehead with my fingers and feel wrinkles. Gram called them worry lines. I worry because none of these people are on my list. I do not have to do what they say, but I am afraid not to.

“Put your checkbook away. You’re going to need all your money to live on, Perry,” David says. He is the only one besides me who looks sad.

Louise sits in a chair, putting on more red lipstick and using a tiny little mirror. Her hair is now whitish-gold. It is pulled back from her face so tight her eyes have to squint.

“Too bad about Grandma, Perry,” she says, and blots her lips on a tissue.

Gram. Her name is Gram, but I do not tell Louise this. It is something she should know.

They keep talking. That is okay.

I chose the most beautiful box for Gram while my cousin-brothers argued. I chose the one I knew she would like. And wrote the check to Steven.

Later that night, when I am home alone, I look at Gram’s picture and wonder where she is.

I remember asking questions when Gramp passed away.

“Where do we go? Where do we go when we die, Gram?”

She grabbed me tight to her chest and said, “We go into wind and rain. We turn into the sea and the fog. That’s where we go, Perry. Each time it rains, think of Gramp. Each time the wind blows he will be there, and when I die, I’ll be there too.”

I think that is true. I hear drips on the roof as it starts to rain.

I think of Gram.

And I wait for the wind to blow.

8

Gram’s memorial service was held at Sullivan Park on Silver Lake. It was most appropriate, John said. That meant it was close to where everyone had to get to that day and it was free. All of the family came, except for my mother, Louise, and David’s wife, Elaine.

I do not have suit pants that fit. I wear clean blue jeans and my black suit jacket. It is too tight over my shoulders, but that is okay because I do not plan to wear it ever again.

My cousin-brothers come by an hour early to pick me up. They have two cars. While I talk to David, John takes a lady carrying a pink poodle around to look at Gram’s house. They walk across the lawn and stare into the front window, but do not go inside. I am glad because it is a mess. Gram and I have a lot of crap. The lady trips in the long grass and says a bad word.

“Who is she?” I ask David.

“John’s new wife, CeCe,” he says.

“What does she do? Is she a lawyer?” Almost everybody in my family is a lawyer.

“No, she shops.” David gives a short laugh.

Even though it is not winter, the park is wet. It is always wet. Rain falls out of the sky. Rain always falls out of the sky. Kids and dogs run in the muddy grass. One big brown collie jumps up on John and gets dirt on his pants. Gram would have done her cackle laugh and slapped her knee. My cousin-brothers stand together. John’s wife, CeCe, sits in his car with her poodle. She does not want it to get wet. I never knew dogs could be pink. David says it is dyed, but it looks alive to me. It even barked once.

The minister guy talks about Gram and Jesus.

Gram would have been mad. “It’s my own goddamned business, Perry! I hate all that holier-than-thou stuff. All that crap! Turn the other cheek! He wasn’t that much of a wuss!” She would roll her eyes. “WWJD? Now what the hell is that supposed to mean, Perry? What would Jesus do? What do you think he’d do? He’d walk away and be disgusted! That’s what!”

The minister shakes my hand and says he is very sorry for my loss. He tells me Gram is in a much better place. What a crock, I think. Gram would have wanted to be at our house. At our place. Crock means untrue or a lie. It can also mean a pot you cook beans in.

I am happy because I get to take Gram home with me in her box.

“You can put her up in the mountains,” David says to me. “Come on, Perry, I’ll take you back to Gram’s house.”

Gram would not want to be in a park or in the mountains. She wanted to be next to Gramp at Marysville Memorial Park. I do not tell them this. They do not seem to care where Gram wants to be. They all talk above my head in the parking lot, before David drives me home. I listen carefully. They get confused. Sometimes they are my cousins and other times my brothers. They cannot make up their minds. But I know who they are. They are cousin-brothers.

And they both laugh. They talk about me as if I am not there. That is okay. I am an auditor. I listen to John and David. Gram always told me she was concerned about what would happen to me when she was gone and I would be left alone.

“You’re so goddamned suggestible,” she said. “Suggestible and honest! A terrible combination! Terrible! They’ll take advantage of you.”

She would shake her head and click her tongue like an alarm clock. Advantage means up to no good. That was why she would not put any of them on our list. But it made me wonder. Can I still use our list now that Gram is dead?

John drives behind us all the way to Gram’s house and follows us to the door. CeCe stays in the car and complains through the open window. Her voice is squeaky just like John’s.

David and John go from room to room looking for papers. We have to find papers. I help.

BLAH! BLAH! A car horn blares and John opens the front door.

"We have to leave now!” CeCe screams. She is very loud.

“You coming over to the house, David?” John says as he pulls out his keys.

“Yeah. I’ll drop by later with Elaine. She wants to be there.”

“It’s a
Family
Meeting, David, to decide what to do about the house. Elaine doesn’t
need
to be there.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll let you tell her that,” David mutters, and turns to me. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you,” and pats me on the shoulder.

I say okay, and go back inside.

9

When a person dies, their body goes away, but their voice stays. I hear Gram every day. Every day I hear her voice.

Be careful, Perry,
she says.
Don’t be smart,
she warns.
This is for the birds,
she tells me.

I would rather have her with me.

My family says they will be over to dispose of the assets. Assets are things that can be used to pay debts. They are also an advantage, the dictionary says. This is most likely what Gram meant when she told me John, David, and Louise would take advantage.

Louise comes by first. Her hair is now red and matches her lipstick.

“I just wanted a couple things to remind me of Grandma.” She holds a Kleenex to her face, but her eyes are not wet. Louise takes Gram’s jewelry box, her wedding rings, and the mother-of-pearl brush and mirror set. She sets these things carefully in the front seat of her car. I watch her through the curtains. When she comes back inside, she goes straight to the dining room and opens the china cabinet.

“Is this real or fake?” Louise lifts plates up and looks underneath. She picks up all of Gram’s things, and turns them over and over in her hands. Feeling them. Rubbing them. The china. The crystal.

“Is this all there is?” she asks me. “I thought there was a Limoges? I’m almost positive there was a Limoges. Or maybe some Waterford? ” She looks at me closely when she says this. I can see the dishes in her eyes, but the names that she says, I do not know. They are not on my list or in my book.

“I’ll have to take these with me. Find me a box, Perry. I’ll have an expert decide. Have them all appraised. Is this it? Is this all there is?” she says again, and drops Kleenex on the floor. I guess she does not need tissues anymore.

It is important to appraise things. To make sure things are real. But I know they are. All I have to do is touch them. I stand on the porch and watch her drive away. Her car taillights are two red eyes.

John comes next. He brings his own boxes. CeCe and her poodle are not with him.

“Where’s the model?” he asks. “Where’s the boat model? That’s an original. I’d like to have that. What about the watercolors? I thought Gramp had a Winslow Homer. I was sure it was somewhere around here. How about those signed prints? Do you know where they are?”

I have trouble answering all his questions. He kicks over our pile of
Reader’s Digest
s and I have to stack them up again.

“Forget that!” he yells. “Give me a hand over here.”

I help him wrap Gramp’s model so it does not break or get scratched. I look at his hands. His fingernails are all bit down. I look at mine. I do not bite mine anymore. Gram made me stop. John’s eyes are dry. As dry as mine are wet. I have to wipe my nose on my sleeve.

“For Christ’s sake, use a handkerchief and stop sniffing.” John’s mouth is turned down and his eyes move from side to side. Looking. I do not know what he is looking for. I hope he finds it and leaves. He fills all his boxes and I help carry them to the trunk of his car. When his car rolls out of the driveway, he does not wave good-bye.