Jill Smolinski: The Next Thing on My List

After I was sure the others had left, I snuck down to the liquor store and bought a hundred Lotto scratchers. One by one, I stopped people on the street and asked them to scratch off the ticket on the spot-and if you ever want to know about the lack of trust in our society these days, try offering something for free.

So I wouldn’ t be too late, I started handing out a few at a time. By seven o’ clock when the party was officially under way, I’ d had only two winners: ten dollars and sixty dollars. The ten-dollar winner said, ‘ Hey, thanks, this ought to be good for a couple packs of smokes,’ and the sixty-dollar winner was excited, but-as her engagement ring looked as if it had cost about sixty thousand-I doubted that it would be exactly life-changing.

Clutching the last ticket, I headed to my bus stop. There was a woman standing there in filthy clothes and missing several teeth-precisely what I’ d been hoping for. Even if she won a small amount, it could be enough to have an impact.

‘ Hi,’ I chirped. ‘ I’ ve got this lottery ticket to give you.’

She sneered at me. ‘ What for? Is this a trick?’

‘ No. Here-’ And I handed it over. She started to tuck it in her cleavage, and I said, ‘ Please scratch it off now. I need to see if it’ s a winner.’

‘ I ain’ t got a coin.’

I dug through my purse and handed her a nickel.

‘ Quarters work better,’ she said slyly.

I kept digging until I found a quarter, then held my breath as she scratched off the card.

Nothing.

Disappointment rose like bile. I must’ ve looked stricken, because she said, ‘ Girlie, it ain’ t no big deal.’

‘ I know. But if it’ d been a winner, maybe it would have made a difference in your life. I’ d like to have done that.’

‘ You want to make a difference in my life?’

‘ Desperately.’

She gave me a slow once-over. ‘ Them shoes of yours look comfy. Mine pinch my feet something awful. I’ ll bet anything if you gave me them shoes, that’ d make a big difference.’

My shoes? I was about to scoff when I thought, What the heck. I slipped off my shoes, a hundred-and-twenty-dollar pair I’ d recently splurged on at Macy’ s.

She took them, and without a thank-you or so much as a word otherwise, she left. I stood at the bus stop, waiting for the bus to arrive. Maybe tomorrow, after a night’ s sleep, I could come up with another way to change someone’ s life. I decided right there that I wasn’ t going to give the list back until it was done. I’ d go to the party and face everyone as a loser. But, hey, at least I’ d tried.

The thought of which left me utterly thunderstruck.

I’ d tried.

I’ d failed. I’ d picked myself up, dusted myself off, and tried again. Me!

Of course-that was it!

A horn honked nearby, tugging me from my thoughts.

‘ Hey!’ It was Martucci, calling to me through the rolled-down passenger window of his Mercedes. ‘ Get in, you nut job! I’ ll give you a ride.’

I ran over and climbed into the passenger seat-and mmm, the fragrance of real Corinthian leather sure beat the smell of your average city bus stop. Martucci chuckled as he shifted into gear. ‘ I’ d ask why you were standing there in your socks, but I’ m not sure I want to know.’

Chapter 25

20 Things to Do by My 25th Birthday

1. Lose 100 pounds

2. Kiss a stranger

3. Change someone’ s life

4. Wear sexy shoes

5. Run a 5K

6. Dare to go braless

7. Make Buddy Fitch pay

8. Be the hottest girl at Oasis

9. Get on TV

10. Ride in a helicopter

11. Pitch an idea at work

12. Try boogie boarding

13. Eat ice cream in public

14. Go on a blind date

15. Take Mom and Grandma to see Wayne Newton

16. Get a massage

17. Throw away my bathroom scale

18. Watch a sunrise

19. Show my brother how grateful I am for him

20. Make a big donation to charity

The private room at Oasis was packed. People sat at cocktail tables and stood around holding drinks and plates of food. When Martucci and I walked in, a woman named Norma-I remembered her as the Weight Watchers leader who’ d given Marissa her lifetime pin the night she died-was near the bar, in the midst of telling a story into a handheld microphone. The fact that it ended with, ‘ And from that day forward, every woman in the group practically stripped naked before weighing in’ -followed by a roar of laughter from the crowd-gave me an indication of the overall mood. It was, as Kitty Jones had hoped, a party.

We grabbed beers from a bartender near the back and then made our way to the table where Susan and Brie sat with Sebastian and Kip.

‘ I was starting to worry you weren’ t coming,’ Susan said, pulling purses off a couple of chairs she’ d been saving. ‘ What happened to your shoes?’

‘ Don’ t ask.’

As I sat down, Troy relieved Norma of the microphone. He was in jeans and a button-down shirt, his hair recently cut-but it didn’ t incite lust in me as much as it made me want to pinch his cheeks.

‘ Anybody else who wants to share,’ Troy said, ‘ feel free to come on up.’ He held out the microphone.

Brie gave me a nudge. ‘ Go up there.’

A girl trotted to the microphone, buying me time. She introduced herself as a school friend of Marissa’ s and started to tell a story about how she and Marissa used to pass notes in algebra class.

‘ June doesn’ t have to talk if she doesn’ t want to,’ Susan said quietly to everyone at the table, as if I weren’ t there.

‘ The fact that she showed up is plenty,’ Sebastian agreed.

Martucci took a swig of his beer. ‘ Of course she should talk. She’ s the reason they’ re having this party in the first place.’

‘ I am not!’ I hissed. As if I needed that kind of pressure! ‘ They’ re having it because Marissa wrote a list to be completed by her twenty-fifth birthday& which, by the way, it isn’ t. Completed, that is.’

Brie shook her head. ‘ Eighteen down, two left to go. What a shame.’

‘ Actually,’ I said, unable to suppress a proud smile, ‘ only one left to go.’

‘ You found Buddy Fitch?’ Sebastian said, excited enough that he forgot to whisper. A few heads turned our way, and I shushed him.

‘ No, I still have to do that one.’

‘ Then what-? How-? I mean, I thought& ‘

As Sebastian flustered, Brie took the opportunity to elbow me. ‘ Your man, Troy, is looking mighty fine.’

‘ The brother?’ Kip asked. ‘ You’ ve got something going on with the brother?’

‘ That’ s dishy,’ Sebastian said with obvious interest.

‘ There’ s nothing between Troy and me.’

‘ At least not yet,’ Brie taunted. ‘ The night is young.’

‘ Yeah,’ Martucci piped up, a little roughly even for him. ‘ Now that you’ re not going to adopt a baby, he’ ll probably be interested again.’

Susan grunted in disgust on my behalf. ‘ Leave her alone.’

‘ It’ s not what you think,’ I said, wanting to clarify, and for some reason I turned to Martucci. ‘ He’ s just messed up about losing his sister-they were close. I kind of feel sorry for him.’

‘ Did I miss something?’ Susan asked. ‘ Are you and Troy a thing?’

‘ Nah,’ I said. Troy had again taken the microphone and was holding it out for whoever might speak next. ‘ He’ s a nice guy,’ I said, rising from the table. ‘ But to be honest, he’ s not my type.’

I claimed the microphone from Troy, who gave me a brief kiss on the cheek before going back to stand near his family. I blew out a breath, trying to calm my nerves, and then faced the crowd of sixty or so people. I hadn’ t written a speech. Sure, I’ d given it plenty of times in my imagination-but when I had, it was always about finishing the list. The speech I’ d mentally rehearsed over and over was one of triumph-the list a wrapped gift I’ d present to a grieving family. I was going to have to wing this one.