“Fuck the odds!” she yelled as she stood up, startling me. “We have to find out!”
I glanced at the television, remembered the House episode, and started thinking about the guy with all the money who was about to lose his son.
“What about the show?” I asked. “What if you can only have a certain amount of good luck?”
“What does that mean?” Mayra asked.
“What if I can’t have both?”
“Both of what?” Mayra demanded. I could tell she was getting frustrated, but I didn’t really know how to answer.
Still staring at the television, I didn’t think the episode seemed cheesy anymore.
“I’m going to find it,” Mayra exclaimed, and she started to walk out of the room and up the stairs.
“No, Mayra! Please!” I ran after her and latched on to her arm just as she reached the kitchen.
“Why not?” she asked.
Mayra slowly turned back to face me, and I let go of her arm. My hands went into my hair and tugged a bit. I had no idea how to figure this stuff out in my own head, let alone explain it to her. I decided to start with the basics.
“That drawer is a mess,” I told her, knowing as soon as the words were out of my mouth that such tactics weren’t going to work. Mayra raised a brow at me and tapped her toe a couple of times. I decided to just come out with it. “Because it might be the winning ticket.”
“That’s the whole point, Matthew!” Mayra tossed her hands up in the air. “It might be worth over a hundred million dollars. Do you realize that?”
“Yes,” I said.
Mayra stood still and just looked at me for a minute, her hands now placed firmly on her hips. My mind wandered to the previous evening when my hands were on those hips as I pulled her against me.
“Matthew…” Mayra’s voice dropped down a bit, and she turned her head to look up at me. Her eyes held warnings about getting distracted.
I sighed.
“In the show we were just watching,” I said, “you remember how the dad thought if he kept all that money, he would lose his son?”
“Yeah?” Mayra’s brow furrowed as she looked at me quizzically.
“I can’t take that chance,” I told her. “No amount of money in the world would be worth losing you.”
“It’s just a TV show,” Mayra said, pointing out the obvious. “Even in the show, there was no real proof that getting rid of the money was what made his son better.”
“But what if it’s true?” I asked. “Even if there is any chance—even a chance as small as actually winning the lot
tery—that I could lose you…”
I shuddered.
“Mayra, it just isn’t worth it.”
“You aren’t going to lose me,” Mayra insisted. She took a step toward me and wrapped her arms up around my neck. “Why would you think that?”
“It would change everything,” I whispered. “Nothing would be the same—not ever. So many things could happen.”
My mind flashed through the possibilities as quickly as my mouth sputtered them out.
“If it’s the right one, and I claimed it, people would know. Even if you would do it anonymously, people would still find out. They’d want to ask me about it, or they would bug you or Travis or Beth about it. They would find out where we live, and they might even find Megan. Everyone would think you only put up with me because I was rich, and they’d say you knew about it or something way back in February. People would be asking for money all the time, and I’d want to give it to them. Then it would be all out, and other people would ask. They would need it just as bad as someone else, and it would be too late then. I’d have to figure out who needed it the most, and then I might screw it up, and…and—”
“Shh, Matthew, shh…” Mayra dragged me over to the couch and pulled me down beside her. “Relax, baby—it’s okay.”