Scratched

Short Story - Creative Writing

They say that New York City is the city that never sleeps. In my fourty-nine years of living, never having ever visited New York whatsoever, I can say that I disagree. Midnight, 1 am--4am, people are always walking in Chicago. In the daytime, bold architecture glistens by the light casted by the sun. The skyline is punctuated by skyscrapers. I'm always in awe, however I try not to look up too much. My neck hurts if I do. The towering buildings remind me that life goes on above, with some people having no financial worry, while I remain here tethered to the ground. So, instead of looking, my mind wanders around the existence of ghosts and UFOs. 

The scent of food wafts through the air. My stomach churns, gnawing at itself. Chicago’s deep dish pizza, hot dogs, and other American classics are in the hands of tourists. The smell reminds me of the days, days when I wasn’t invisible. I see a group of young women posing, capturing photos, and showing off their hot dogs in the process. I can’t help but smile a little. It’s funny how something so small and simple is worth capturing memories for. For them, it’s a snack. For me, it’s a dream. 

They’ll never know I was here, witnessing their special moment,and tucked onto the sidewalk. But it’s okay. I learned to make peace with it. 

I learned that by enlisting into the U.S. military when I was young and stayed there for a long period of time. Joining the military was a mistake. I thought that I’d get an escape from living in a low-income family by joining a new purpose. The rigorous training gave me that rush of adrenaline---completion---the boost of energy, wanting to push me to my limits. After all of my time in the military, I hadn’t realized the consequence of not keeping in touch with what I left behind, my family. 

Years had passed, and I got the news that my parents died from a car accident. I went back home to try to find something familiar. My older sister. I showed up to her door step, hoping to be welcomed and greeted by my eight year-old niece. However, I just saw her. She’s taking a while to process my face, then exclaiming that she “doesn’t recognize me after all of these years”. 

Hours upon hours of talking to each other, it felt like I was fast forwarding into time, time I had missed out on. I wasn’t there for the birth of my nephew, her second child, and now he’s three years old. She stays at home while her husband works to support the growing family. During our conversation, I had realized that I now had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to live. 

“Carla, I know it’s been 8 years since I have spoken to you. I’m super sorry about that. If I were to go back in time, I’d change the way I didn’t communicate with you. But, is it okay if I live here for a while, with you and Alfred?” I asked, hoping that she’d say that it was okay.

“Stanley,” She says, in a sympathetic manner. She never uses my real name. 

“I just think that it's getting too crowded in here.” 

And there it was. My rejection. My life-long rejection from being a part of my sister’s family. 

That night I probably examined the picture in my wallet multiple times. Pulling and putting the photograph of my last, happy Christmas day. Behind us was a Christmas tree Carla decorated. The photo was faded now, but I can recall that the colors of the ornaments were varieties of red and gold. She was wearing a matching sweater with my niece, holding her on to her left. And on the right I was there, in uniform, smiling one of my genuine smiles for the last time. 

The smell of food continued to make me gravitate towards it. My stomach continued to churn for several hours as I tried to sleep it off. I guess it was a sign that it was going to be a grocery day today. The nearest convenience store that supplies groceries happens to be a CVS. As I enter, I can sense the cashiers sneering at each other reacting in disgust. It could be my appearance, or the way that I smelled. But what’s the use of people looking at me positively when I’m already a homeless man. 

My basket is only a third full with two canned goods, a little jar of peanut butter, and a regular box of whole grain cereal. Even though I came for little items, my eyes start to wander and guide my body, entertaining myself with the unnecessary items I wish I had. Especially when it comes to Star Wars action figures and paranormal magazines, my eyes go through every word and detail. 

The sound of thrashing rain collided down onto the sidewalks, signaling that my time here has come to an end.  My total came to be $8.79. Pretty good if I do say so myself. 

As I exited,  I pulled my hood up and tucked my chin against the humidity, holding the items I had purchased in a bag beside me. A few people darted out and hid under doorways, trying to stay dry. 

As I rounded the corner onto a quieter street, the towering buildings of downtown gave way to rows of townhomes- old, red-bricked, with stairs leading up to wooden doors. I moved slower here, the rain soaking through my shoes. 

That’s when I saw it. 

A scratch- off lottery ticket, lying on the stairs of one of those townhomes. Half-drenched, stuck to the wet stone like a leaf. Just another piece of trash, I figured. However, curiousity got closer to me. Maybe it was something else. I stepped forward and bent down, carefully, trying to not tear the soaked paper. 

A lottery ticket. Scratched, but not all the way. 

Without thinking, I took out my wallet from my back pocket and started to pull out the quarter that was given to me as change today. The quarter in my fingers was a few centimeters away from the ticket. It was just a scratch off. But what if the person who left this wants it back? There’s probaby a 99% chance that I wouldnt win anyways. So here it goes. 

One number revealed itself. I stared at it, heart pounding even though I basically  told myself not to get my hopes up a few seconds ago. It didn’t match. There was one more. I scratched it, feeling the tension build with every pass of the coin. When the last number showed up, I could hardly believe it. 

A match. 

My eyes flicked to the back of the ticket, and there it was, clear as day-- $1,000,000. I blinked, maybe I was hungry or tired, or maybe thinking about conspiracy theories clouded my head. But it was there. I wasn’t imagining it, 

A million dollars. 

And acceptance from my family was sure to come. 

When I scanned the lottery at CVS that night, the same employees that used to pity me, now looked at each other, eyes wide open in disbelief. The young men were then facing me with respect, something I haven’t seen in a while. 

“Yup. That’s a million dollars, sir,” The employee said reaffirming, giving me his smile, and handed back the lottery ticket. 

“Yes.” I took the ticket and stared at him, waiting to be told what to do next. 

“Uhh, sir? You’ll have to contact the lottery administrators in order for you to get your prize.” 

“Oh! Uhh.. I don’t have a phone.” I embarrassedly admitted. 

That rainy night clouded all of the Chicago noise. The employee brought me to the side and called the company for me. However, there needs to be a receiver to get the money. And that, I did not have. The only possible way would be to get my sister to help. I reached my wallet and flicked back to the Christmas photograph, telling the young man the numbers to dial. 

“Hello?” Her voice was deep. She must’ve woken up from the ringtone. 

“Hello? Carla?”

“Stan? How are you calling me?”

“Carla, I won---I won the lottery.”

“What? Really? There’s no way!” Her voice sounded in denial. 

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I can’t believe it either. But anyways, I need um- someone to receive it for me. Since I, you know, don’t know how to receive it myself.” 

“Okay, Stan. I’ll meet with you tomorrow morning at the park. Is that good?” 

“Yup. Goodnight, Carla.”

“Goodnight, Stan.” I could tell she was smiling on the other side of the phone call. 

The next morning awaits. The sun is just starting to rise as birds flocked into the sky. Cars are bustling around in traffic as kids of all ages wear their backpacks and head to the school nearby. I decided to wait on this wooden bench. However, all of that adrenaline that night knocked me into a deep sleep. 

“Uncle Stan?” Someone nudged my shoulder. 

“Huh?” I immediately sat back up looking at the person getting my attention. 

It’s someone who looks like my sister, but some of the features are off. She has blonde hair, and is wearing excessive makeup and youngster fashion that

I’ve seen downtown. 

“Stan!” I turn to see a woman in her pajamas running foward behind the girl. Carla. She’s here. I can’t help but smile. This is the first time Carla has reached out to me in person. She’s settled down next to me. 

“Carla, is this Chloe?” I asked, referring to the girl in front of us. 

“Yes it is. She has grown a lot hasn’t she?” 

“Yes. I remember when you were just a little baby.” My eyes crinkled with a smile. 

“Y’know my mom told me a lot about you.” 

“Really?” I turned my head to Carla, surprised. She smiled back at me. 

That morning Chloe told me all about her university life. And how she’s trying to find different programs to do STEM internships at. Light danced on the cheeks of her face onto Carla’s. She rambled over how unpredictable adulthood is going to be. But then she got a notification on her phone. 

“I’m sorry Uncle Stan! I only talked about myself. Hopefully we can catch up later. I have to go to my 9 am class! Bye!” 

Carla then turned to me. We didn’t have a nice conversation like with Chloe. It was a discussion. A discussion about how she would be the one to receive the money and how she would let me be the one to manage it. She also said that she would guide me on my financial uses. Carla also agreed that since I’m in such circumstances that she and Alfred allowed me to stay with them. It’s been 20 years since I have been homeless. 20 years since I formally contacted Carla. And now I just want to enjoy life again. Especially when money is not a worry anymore. 

It’s been a few weeks since I won a million dollars. A lot of media companies have contacted my newly created email somehow. Carla and Chloe have been pushing me to go to them, to share my ‘influence’ to the world. The first piece of media that went ‘viral’ was a video transformation of me going from how I regularly looked to a more classy style that I would see business men would wear. It’s been a while since I have been noticed. The whole journey has drastically changed my life. Carla has also requested that we remodel the house. I said that I, personally, believed that the house was still in good shape, nothing was broken and it was definitely an upgrade from living on the streets. However, she insisted that “no millionaire should be living here’’. 

Jackson, my nephew, is now seventeen years old. He is turning out to be a handsome young man. He has dark blonde hair and brown eyes. He has a passion for basketball, as his room is covered in the Chicago Bulls basketball team posters. For the first few weeks I stayed, he showed the same energy and enthusiasm as his older sister. But as the weeks pass by, he’s been telling me that he’s busy with homework. And on the weekends, he’s occupied with playing video games while calling his friends online. He keeps on asking me to buy him new pairs of Nike shoes and random gadgets off of Amazon. 

While Jackson and Chloe go to school, and Albert goes to work, it’s just me and Carla left. We don’t watch TV together, she doesn’t cook and, for some reason, doesn’t want me to cook. We, I mean, she orders take out. Whenever I watch a 80s movie about supernatural beings, she always whines about how I don’t spend time with her. And when she insists that we do, she suggests that we go to a luxurious mall where she picks out designer handbags and clothes for herself with my money. 

For our family dinner, we decided on going to a Chinese restaurant. Aroma was filled with umami flavors. Chinese food was not a cuisine I was familiar with. However, the flavors were surprisingly easy going for my taste buds. I looked over to Albert, who was happily eating. 

“Albert, don’t you want to retire early? I can support you.” 

Mid chew, he stopped. 

“No, no. I’m doing perfectly fine. It’s your money of course. After all you’ve been through, you deserve it.” He smiled and then went back to eating. 

“What about you, Chloe? You mentioned that you do internships where you get paid to pay for college, right? I can pay for your education.”

“It’s okay Uncle Stan. I’m going to be the one to pay for college. And with all of these internships I can get my experiences as well.” 

I could see Carla, who was dressed fancier than ever with pearls, nudged Jackson with her elbow. It was a signal to ask me about something. I had to reply strategically.

“What about me, Uncle Stan? Will you pay for my college?” 

“Yes, but I already have a set amount for you. You’ve already gotten $340 down from the amount.” 

“Oh.” His eyes opened wide, but I could tell he was forcing himself to be non-chalant. His eyes then turned to his mother, but she was facing me, angrily. 

The family headed out into the car. Carla was behind me, waiting. As I was about to head towards the car, she spoke. 

“Stan, can I talk to you?” Carla asked, in a pleasant voice. 

“Yes, what is it?” 

“It’s about your spending choices. I know Jackson likes to spend money on obnoxious things, but You’re not going to pay for his college?” 

“ I want to teach him financial responsibility. I’m not directly telling him that ‘no, you should not be spending money on this’ because he’s going to become an adult. He should have known that education is more of a priority than gadgets.” 

“I see. I will tell him that he should be more responsible,”

The air got quiet for a bit, but right now seems like the right moment to tell Carla what has been through my mind for these past few weeks. 

“Carla, I think I’m going to move out and live on my own.”

“What?” It caught her off guard.

“I’ve alway longed for the moment I get to spend time with you all. Especially on those winter days where I reminisce about the last Christmas we have had together,”

She nodded, trying to understand what I had said. 

“But now that I’ve faced reality, I know--I know that you just accepted me for the money. You didn’t even visit me while I was on the streets, which I get, because you would’ve been seen as embarrassing and seen me as a disappointment. But I’m your brother. Family--family sticks through thick and thin together,”

Carla continued her icy stare. 

“A while ago, I was not able to enjoy the things I wanted to. And now I could. But then you were saying how we do not spend enough time together. However, you continue to go shopping anyway!”

“So, I’m going to live on my own and do the things I want to do. You and everyone else can visit me, we can always have family dinners together and actually spend time together.” 

Her icy stare melted into growing understanding. It was time to turn my life around. 

As my life began to settle, something else shifted too. I continue to go to talk-shows and meet at media companies, advocating about the growing homelessness in society. It started a spark. A spark that made me want to tell my story and change people’s perspective of homelessness. Through that, every couple of months I started donating to charities that help with homelessness, especially non-profit organizations. 

The family has also reached out to me, trying out various cuisines I had yet to try, telling stories while we eat snacks by the campfire in my newly built home. Chloe, especially, has been along my side. We spend hours watching old movies, talking about galaxies far away, time travel, and alien species. 

One night, in my newly built astronomical observatory, Chloe and I attempted to study the sky. She looked throught the telescope in awe. 

“Uncle,” she said, continuing to move the telescope around to examine the stars. 

“This might be silly, considering my age but, do you actually think there’s life out there?”

I smiled, patting her shoulder. “I think anything’s possible, kid. If I can go from sleeping on benches to this, who’s to say what’s out there?” 

She giggled, but I could see the gears turning in her mind. For the first time in a ling while, I felt like I had something to offer--a place in the world, a connection. I wasn’t just the veteran, or the guy who got lucky with a scratch-off ticket. I was a brother, an uncle, and a supporter, a person who mattered to family and a representation of people in poverty, and that was worth more than any amount of money. 

And while the past would always be a part of me, the future felt wide open, like the vast, uncharted galaxies Chloe and I imagined together.