“Okay, spill,” I say, unwrapping my sandwich. “And please tell me it’s not about Derek again, because I’m running out of creative ways to say ‘dump his sorry ass.’”
She takes a deep breath. Deep breaths are never good.
“My sister called from Vegas this morning. She’s having complications with her pregnancy.”
Oh. Oh no. The way Lisa says it makes my stomach drop, because Lisa’s sister Jenny is the sweetest person alive, and she’s been trying to have a baby for years.
“Is she okay? Is the baby okay?”
“They’re both okay for now, but she’s been put on strict bed rest for the rest of her pregnancy. Like, can’t-get-up-except-to-use-the-bathroom bed rest. And Mike’s been laid off for three months, so they can’t afford help, and...”
I can already see where this is going, and my heart is breaking for Jenny while simultaneously sinking for completely selfish reasons.
“She needs me, El. I’m the only family she has out there, and she’s scared, and I can’t just leave her to handle this alone.”
There it is. The bomb I was waiting for, except this time it’s wrapped in completely understandable family loyalty and love, which makes me feel even worse for the selfish part of me that’s panicking.
“When do you leave?” I ask, though I already know the answer is going to be something terrible like “immediately” or “yesterday.”
“Tomorrow morning. I’m driving straight through—should get there by evening.”
Yep. There’s that punch to the gut I was expecting.
“Tomorrow,” I repeat, like maybe if I say it slowly enough, the word will change meaning. “As in, the day after today. The day that happens in approximately eighteen hours.”
“I know the timing is awful with our vaca plans and all?—”
“Don’t worry about that,” I interrupt, and okay, maybe my voice is a little higher than normal. We’ve been planning our Barbados trip for over a year. We have a Pinterest board. We have a savings fund—meager as it is. We’ve been buying lottery tickets for months, hoping and praying for a windfall that never comes.
Still, the fact is, all we have right now are plans. Neither one of us makes enough money for the kind of dream vacation we both wish we could take. And with Jenny’s pregnancy issues, now Lisa won’t have the time or the money for a getaway anytime soon.
“Are you sure you’re not mad?” She looks miserable, which makes me feel guilty for wallowing in my own disappointment.
“Of course, I’m not mad. It’s not like we have plane tickets and a hotel booked. We’re just dreaming, right? The vacation will wait. You just do what you need to do for Jenny. I’m not going anywhere, obviously.”
She nods, looking slightly relieved. “You’re the best, El.”
“And you’re going to be exactly what your sister needs,” I tell her, because that’s the truth. Lisa’s the most responsible, caring person I know. She’s the one who remembers birthdays and keeps plants alive and always has Band-Aids in her purse. Jenny’s lucky to have her.
Meanwhile, I’m the one who once accidentally killed a cactus. A cactus. The plant that’s literally designed to survive neglect.
It’s a good thing neither of my little sisters back home in New Jersey are of childbearing ages because I’m the last person anyone would call for help in a medical crisis or otherwise. But give me a diner full of hangry patrons at the peak of the lunch rush and I’m your Huckleberry.
I go back to my customers, telling myself it’s no big deal that it’ll be six months or more before my dreams of a sandy beach and tropical breezes can be close to reality. I’ll just keep working hard and saving my tips until Lisa gets back and we can continue dreaming of Barbados.
By the time I get home, I’m feeling sorry for myself in a way that definitely calls for wine and bad reality TV. My apartment usually cheers me up. It’s small but sunny, decorated in what I like to call “thrift store chic meets eternal optimist.” Tonight it just feels empty.
I’m halfway through a glass of wine and a particularly dramatic episode of someone’s dating disasters when I remember the lottery tickets in my purse. One for Lisa, and one for me. I bought them on my way home from work today, just like I’ve been doing every week for most of this year. The jackpotdrawing is tonight, although it’s hard for me to get excited about it when Lisa is currently on her way to Las Vegas.
The TV is droning about tonight’s drawing, and I figure why not check? It’s not like I have anything better to do except console myself and eat ice cream for dinner. I dig the tickets out of my purse and plop back onto my tattered couch.
I check Lisa’s ticket first. Only one number matches. A bust, as usual. It’s not until I look at my ticket’s numbers that my heart rate kicks into high gear. I’ve got the same number match on mine. Plus another one. And a third.
Oh my God. Four numbers match.
I sit up straighter, my wine forgotten. Check again. Five matches.
And then… Holy shit.
