“That you don’t have faith in the world.”
I consider this a moment. “It’s not that, exactly. It’s just…the world hasn’t done much for me lately. I guess I’m still waiting for it to impress me.”
Leo gives me an odd look. “It should’ve been you.”
“What?”
“The ticket. The money. It should’ve been you.”
“No, that’s not my dream,” I say. “That’s Teddy’s. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.”
“So what’s yours?”
I think of that night so long ago, standing outside the door to Leo’s room with my toothbrush in hand while he asked his mom if I was an orphan. She told him that I was, but that I would be other things too.
Like what?he asked then.
Like what?he’s asking again now.
It’s been nine years, and I still don’t have an answer.
I wonder if I ever will.
“I don’t know yet,” I tell him, and then I pick up the lukewarm burger and take a bite before he can ask me anything else.
Afterward we pass a newsstand outside the restaurant and Leo stops short. When he pulls a glossy magazine off the rack, I see that there’s a smiling picture of Teddy in the top right corner. Underneath it, in bold letters, it saysTHE BIG WINNER.
Leo stares at it in astonishment, but I only shake my head.
“The universe really outdid itself this time,” I say.
It’s the second day of spring break and I’m up to my elbows in dirty dishwater.
Beside me Sawyer is drying off cups with a checkered towel, but otherwise the kitchen is empty. They were light on volunteers this weekend, so the two of us offered to take cleanup duty, which wasn’t very popular tonight since the dishwasher was broken. But I didn’t mind. It wasn’t like I had anything else to do.
I scrub hard at a patch of crusted cheese on one of the plates, gritting my teeth as I attempt to pry it off, and Sawyer looks at me sideways.
“What did that poor plate ever do to you?”
I drop it into the soapy water, stepping back to avoid the splash. He reaches over and hands me a scouring pad.
“Here,” he says. “Try this.”
“Thanks,” I say, blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes.
“If you insist on going to battle with that thing, you might as well have a good weapon.”
This makes me smile. “Sorry. I feel like I’m not great company tonight.”
“You’re always good company,” he says. “Though the cutlery might not agree.”
“I’ll go clear the rest,” I say, wiping my hands on my apron, then heading back out into the other room, where a few stragglers are still sitting at a table in the corner.
“Hey, Alice,” says Trevor, a regular here ever since I started volunteering. He’s wearing the green woolen cap I got him for Christmas last year, pulled low over his eyes so that all I can see is his gray beard. Sometimes I run into him at the homeless shelter too, especially when the weather is bad. When he’s not there I worry about him, but his answer to my questions is always just “I get by.”
Now he’s flipping through a newspaper as two of the other guys finish their bowls of vanilla pudding. When I walk over, I realize they’re looking at an article about Teddy. “Big winner,” Trevor says, studying the photo. “Just a kid too.”
“I shoulda bought a ticket,” says Frank, one of the other men, and the third, Desmond, shakes his head.
