Luck

The route 94 bus heaved itself out of traffic like a breaching whale, hissing hydraulic brakes and splashing storm water over the curb. The doors jawed open and Catherine dismounted the steps with a care, distrustful of the slick footing. Nine plus four was thirteen, and it would be just her luck to fall and break a hip. Out on the pavement, she stood apart from the stream of huddled pedestrians, pulling her coat closed and dipping her head against the rain.

Six minutes later the route 35 bus approached. Seven times five. The numbers made no particular impression on Catherine, but it was the next leg home and at least she was back out of the weather. The driver punched a hole in her ticket, making for thirteen holes punched and seven to go for that particular pass. Was that bad luck behind and good luck ahead? She wondered.

Her grandmotherly aspect earned her a seat near the front thanks to a charitable young gentleman. Seat number four. She stowed her bus pass in her pocket and as she did so, her fingers found the sharp edges of a lottery ticket. She pulled it out to read the numbers again.

"Lucky numbers, do you think?" asked the young man who had given up his seat.

"I'm an old woman. I can use some luck--the good kind, mind you! And being old, I'd rather not wait too long for it."

The kind young man laughed. A dour middle-aged woman on his other side didn't look as pleased. Maybe her mask of discontent was focused on the world at-large as she stared ahead, but Catherine thought she detected a hint of a scowl at the talk of lotteries.

"Always play the same numbers, do you?" asked the man.

"Oh no! I never pick my own numbers." Catherine had black luck and knew it. She turned her ticket over in her hand. The name "Alex" was written in black ink on the back. He was a dishwasher at a new bar downtown by the river. She had been all over town for years, buying tickets and searching for luck. Today she had bought one ticket and young Alex had pulled himself away from his chores long enough to indulge an eccentric old woman by picking some numbers for her.

"Good luck!" wished the young man.

The woman to his right with the prune expression pursed her lips even further and shook her head slightly.

"You don't approve of lotteries?" Catherine asked.

"A tax on the poor is all it is." Her eyes rolled, but she never did turn to look Catherine's way.

"That's true, certainly. Harsh on those who need luck but don't have it. But it uncovers the lucky. Picks them right out. Crude but if there's a better way, I don't know it."

"Dumb luck," she sniffed.

"Maybe." Catherine laughed. "But when a thing comes down to luck, smart or dumb makes no matter." She ran her thumb along the edge of her ticket. "Dumb luck will do."

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