I squeeze my hand into a fist. “I do happen to have a huge event next month. Opening night,” I say. “It’s my first show as head carpenter. Wendy said I need to act on my goals. They won’t just happen. And it can’t be about money or fame. I need to have a deeper connection with my ideas.” I toss all the extra supplies and garbage into the bag.
Hazel sits back against the bench. “Wow. That’s… great.” She goes quiet for a few long seconds, and I think that’s the end of it.Then she adds, “I don’t really know you, but it sounds like you need that luck as much as I do.” Her tone is softer toward me than it’s been all afternoon.
“I know what you’re thinking. Us white men in America need all the luck we can get,” I say sarcastically.
I get a single laugh—and an eye roll—at that. “What was the first card?” she asks. “The past.”
I toss a handful of candy into my mouth while I recall Wendy’s interpretation of the card that had a peaceful-looking person sitting next to incense, the smoke a wavy river floating overhead.
“She said I was fortunate, but that I’ve also had hardships that I’ve overcome,” I share. It was too vague to know for sure what she might’ve been referencing, but her words stirred up memories of the accident eleven years ago. The turn of events. Rejecting life as I knew it. The luck. So much luck. “I kind of want to see if she’s right.” I wave the lottery play slip in the air. “And then I’m going to split whatever I win with you.”
“Yeah, okay. Give me half. Really excited for that,” Hazel says with a teasing smile. “You know, it’d be easier for you to withdraw cash from the ATM.”
I grin. “But where’s the fun in that? Isn’t this what people do? Go to a fortune teller, get told something fortuitous, buy a lotto ticket?”
Hazel scoffs. “Yeah. You’re right. They do.”
“I know we have a better chance of waking up tomorrow having like, body swapped or something, but—” I shrug. “I’m curious, is all. Let’s just see.”
“What’d I say?” she says with a hint of laughter in her voice. “Pressing your luck.”
“Go big or go home, right?”
“I’ll take going home,” Hazel says, but she doesn’t make a move to leave.
I think maybe her curiosity has won out. I uncap the blue pen. “We can choose five numbers between one and sixty-nine. Then one number will be our Powerball. It can be one to twenty-six. I know you don’t gamble, but would you be willing to pick the Powerball number?”
Hazel starts to shake her head, seemingly changing her mind halfway through. “Okay. For you, I will,” she says, her eyes lingering on mine. “Six.”
I fill in my numbers and then go pay for the ticket, taking the play slip and pen with me while Hazel watches Toffee. When I return, I hold out the ticket. “I’ve thought about it, and I think you should hang on to this.”
Hazel’s eyebrows furrow into a V-shape. “You thought about it on your walk from here to there and back again? You should take more time with that idea.”
“Maybe my fortune will rub off on you,” I say. “I want you to have some luck, too.”
She flashes a look at me as if to communicateyou’re not serious.
“Luck isn’t contagious,” she says, standing to meet me. She sets Toffee on the ground. “You can’t just… transfer it.”
“Not with that attitude, you can’t.” Again, I try handing her the ticket.
Hazel holds her hands behind her back. “I’m serious. You don’t want me touching that thing. Didn’t you hear my bad fortunes?”
“You think your luck is so bad that, if you touch this ticket, it won’t, what? Win millions?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she says, her mouth a hard line.
Just like before, under the tent, we’re in a standstill, our eyes locked on each other. And just like the first time, Hazel’s not smiling, but this time, her eyes are. There’s that warmth shining through, directed right at me. It’s overwhelming in the best way.
“Okay. What about this?” I continue when Hazel doesn’t budge. “According to my Welsh grandparents, black cats bring good luck.” I rub both sides of the ticket on Toffee’s black fur. He looks up at me, annoyed. I try to hand her the ticket. “Here.”
I so badly want to prove her wrong. It’s also possible I want to alleviate some guilt. Who’s to say my good fortunes weren’t originally hers? But given my history of good luck, I doubt it.
Hazel looks at me reluctantly, ultimately giving in. “Fine.” Our fingers collide in the ticket exchange, the static electricity from Toffee’s fur giving us both a little shock. “Nope,” she says immediately, trying to hand the ticket back to me. “We almost set the thing on fire.”
A deep laugh escapes me. “Or maybe that was the lightning Wendy was talking about.”
“I think it was a mistake to let me touch it. It’s a loser now.”
