Page 168 of Callan

“No way.”

“What?” he asks, leaning closer, pretending to be interested in what I see.

He is such a fake.

This is only a game for him.

I finish scratching it off before flipping it over.

“One hundred dollars for you,” I say. “There go my chances to win.”

“You never know,” he says, collecting the winning ticket before nudging me to scratch off the last two. His and mine.

His last ticket is a non-winning one.

I can’t say I’m surprised.

Having one winning ticket already has greatly diminished the odds of winning again.

I take a sip of wine and start working on the last one.

A few moments pass, and I tense up.

“What?” he murmurs. “You’ve got good news.”

The last panel is revealed, and I move my gaze to him.

“Three hundred dollars,” I say, not believing my eyes.

I must look funny since he smiles at me, entertained.

“For real?” I ask, and he glances at my ticket.

“It looks that way.”

Despite how discretely he checks the time on his watch, I notice he is ready to leave.

“Let’s redeem the prize, and I’ll walk you back.”

“Yes. Sure,” I say, this time more prepared for an abrupt ending.

I collect my money. All the money. Four hundred dollars. And then we put our coats on, and he pays for the food and collects my bag of groceries before we exit the bistro.

The small increase in traffic I noticed an hour ago has dimmed to nothing.

Most people are back home, cooking dinner, gobbling up the last slice of cake from the fridge, and drinking wine, beer, or hard liquor. Watching that movie that they haven’t had the chance to watch before.

We walk in the direction of my home, wrapped in perfect silence.

Two blocks from my building, I stop and turn to him.

“I’ll walk alone from this point on. It’s better this way for both of us. Thank you for the food and lottery tickets and everything else.”

He hands me the groceries, his eyes locked to the bottom of my soul.

“Take care, Mackenzie.”

“You too, Callan.”

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