13,22,37,42,69.1

Gripping the steering wheel she could barely see over, Agnes carefully steered her grasshopper green Dodge Dart into the parking lot. The windshield wipers slapped and squeaked a steady rhythm shooing raindrops from the windsheild. She leaned forward, squinting through her cat eye glasses to better avoid the the pot holes punctuating the pock mocked parking lot. Each one was disguised under a sheen of oily water. Her tires were newly aligned and rotated and she couldn’t bear the idea of undoing Sal, the mechanic’s, hard work. Agnes inched up under the pink neon sign announcing alph’s Diner. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since the

“R’ had gone dark. The silver sided building sat low and squat among the warehouses, strip clubs and oil tanks on Industrial Boulevard. She turned off the engine and slid the key out of the ignition. It was one of only three keys keys on her American flag key chain. One for the Dart, one for her home on Chestnut Street and the third for her sister Mildred’s on Oak. She snapped open her purse dropped them in and said under her breath: “I’m putting the keys in my purse.” She drew a clear plastic rain bonnet from the purse, pulled it over her gray tightly wound bun and tied it carefully under her chin to avoid pinching her soft tissue paper skin. She checked the rear view mirror for any tendrils that may have escaped. She hated escaped tendrils.

Agnes struggled to pull open the heavy glass and metal door, a tinkling bell announcing her arrival. Her cheeks reddened fearful the bell would attract attention her way. She needn’t have worried, her sister was the only other patron in the diner and hadn’t heard the bell at all. Agnes wasn't sure if it was because her sister was going deaf or if it was because she had her nose buried in the National Inquirer. She deliberately wiped her ankle length rain boots on the soggy black doormat. The cloying scent of the Frialator already clung to her like fat did to Ralph’s fries.

“Be right out with your tea, Agnes” bellowed Ralph, unseen from the kitchen. “Anything to eat today?” How does he always know when I walk in, Agnes thought. He must be able to see through walls.

“Not today, thank you Ralph, my tummy is a little off” she explained as she slid into the booth across from her sister.

“Smart choice” said Mildred. “The eggs were too runny again” Mildred said louder.

“I heard that” singsonged Ralph from right behind Mildred as he approached with Agnes’ tea. Mildred jumped.

“Don’t be sneakin’ up on us like that for God’s sake Alph” scolded Mildred. “At our ages we could both take a heart attack, and that wouldn’t be good for business. Not that you have any”

Mildred made a show of looking around the diner. Agnes looked at the plate in front of Mildred and saw two perfect sunny side up eggs, golden home fries and impeccably crisp bacon. She sighed and took the bumblebee colored Powerball ticket from her purse.

“Mine wasn't a winner, Millie. Now it’s time to pick your numbers” she said.

She sipped her tea and winced at its bitterness. Ralph must have forgotten to add the second teaspoon of sugar today. She and her sister, Mildred, had been coming to Ralph’s Diner for breakfast for more years than a dog has fleas. It was longer than they’d been giving each other Powerball tickets for their birthdays promising to split the winnings. Yesterday, her birthday, Ralph had prepared Agnes’ tea perfectly, extra sugar and cream. He could be forgiven today, as it was Mildred’s birthday. Mildred drank coffee, black and bitter. It sounds simple enough, but Mildred often complained that it wasn't hot enough or strong enough or both. Mildred liked it scalding and eye opening.

Looking across the table at Mildred was looking in a mirror for Agnes. Their green cat’s eyes were framed by the same crows feet that deepened when Agnes smiled and Mildred frowned. They had the same furrows in their brows that accordioned when Agnes was surprised and Mildred reproached. The crepey skin on their necks sagged similarly, and their thinning gray hair was pulled tightly into a bun. They were rare twins born on different days. Their mother always insisted it was good luck. Agnes was older by 13 hours. She slipped sweetly into the world in the early afternoon of April 12, 1934. Their mother continued to labor for hours to deliver Mildred who was breech. She had to be turned three times before she stubbornly wailed her way into the wee hours of Friday the 13th.

Mildred lifted her steaming coffee to her mouth, her nicotine stained fingers wrapping around the mug. She squeezed her eyes shut and barked “Alph! This damn coffee ain’t hot enough. Come nuke it for me.”

“Please” suggested Agnes, “and you know his name is Ralph, why do you insist on always calling him Alph?”

“Please” spat Mildred, looking sideways at Agnes. “You know why, because it drives him NUTS.” Mildred grinned, her lips parting to reveal yellowing stained teeth.

“I swear the good Lord gave you asbestos for a tongue Mildred” growled Ralph as he collected the offending beverage.

Mildred fumbled in her pocket for a Winston. She poked it between her thin lips and lit a match. She quickly brought the flame to the tip of the cigarette and inhaled deeply closing her eyes. A soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips accompanied by a curl of smoke. Agnes’ eyes were closed too. Hers was a moan of disdain.

“Mildred, God damn it” shouted Ralph from the kitchen. “Put that God damn cancer stick out!

You know there ain’t been no smokin’ allowed in here for over twenny years. I can smell it a mile away.”

“God damn government” said Mildred as she crushed the Winston into the oozy egg yolk left on her plate. “Can’t even enjoy a simple smoke on my 91st.”

Ralph’s reluctant niece Shelby inched toward the table.

“Y’all still workin” she asked, staring at the floor.

“We ain’t workin’ Missy” protested Mildred. “You’re the one whose workin.” We are celebratin’ my birthday.”

“We’re finished, thank you Shelby” comforted Agnes. “You may take the plate dear.”

“Would you like a box Miss Agnes” asked Shelby, her eyes glued to the ground.

“Why ain’t you askin’ me if I want a box” questioned Mildred. “It’s my birthday. And she didn't even have nothin’ to eat.” Mildred poked a crooked bony finger in Agnes’ direction.

“Y-y-you have a cigarette in your eggs” ventured Shelby.

“That’s the only thing makes Ralph’s eggs edible” cackled Mildred. Then she dissolved in a fit of croupy laughter.

“We don't need any boxes, thank you dear” said Agnes. “Please tell the chef it was delicious.”

“CHEF! Ralph, a chef?” questioned Mildred. “Chef my ass, and you didn't taste it. I’ll probably die of ptomaine poisoning in my sleep tonight.” She lost herself to wheezing laughter.

“You could try to be kinder on your birthday Mildred.” sighed Agnes, thinking that Mildred could be kinder every day. “Mildred, you don't still smoke in bed do you?”

“Hell no” insisted Mildred. “Only when I get up in the night to pee, which is only about 60 times a night.” Now she was breathless in laughter.

“Let’s get back to the lottery ticket Millie. You need to pick your numbers.”

“Why do I have to pick them damn numbers” demanded Mildred. “I don’t never make you pick your numbers.”

“That’s a double negative Millie, and you always do a quick pick for my birthday.”

“Double negative my ass” said Mildred, “and what the hell is wrong with a quick pick I’d like to know? Like we are ever going to win the damn thing anyways.”

“Anyway” corrected Agnes.

“Anyways what” asked Mildred.

“The word is ‘anyway.’ Anyway, never mind” said Agnes. “I don’t need to remind you that the jackpot is over a billion dollars” crowed Agnes. “In order to have a better chance of winning, your numbers have to have meaning. They have to stand for something. For example, you could use the number one, because you are my one and only sister” smiled Agnes.

“Oh, I get it now” drawled Mildred. “How about three, for the three deadbeat husbands I buried, or six, for my six ungrateful kids who don't talk to me?”

“Sarcasm is not attractive Mildred.”

“How about 1,000” yelled Ralph from the kitchen. 1000, for the number of times I’ve told Mildred to put out her butt, or for the number of times she has sent back perfectly good coffee?”

“The highest number is 69 Ralph” advised Agnes.

“Yes, 69” exclaimed Mildred. “I always loved me some 69.”

Agnes rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “Okay,” she conceded. We’ll start there, although, that will be your last number.”

Shelby inched over to the table again. “Miss Mildred?” What about all the years you drove our school bus. You was strict, but you kept us in our seats and made us laugh with your off color jokes.”

Agnes raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, well I did drive that damn bus for 42 years. Now the gov’ment is trying to take my pension away don’t ya know.” Grumbled Mildred.

“Ok then.” exclaimed Agnes. “We have 42 and, she paused, “that other number.”

Ralph emerged from the kitchen, and ambled his bulk over to Agnes and Mildred’s booth. He slowly eased himself into the seat next to Agnes, across from Mildred, holding onto the table and back of the booth for support. The cushioned seat sighed under his heavy frame. He removed his paper cap and reached across the Formica table to take Mildred’s bony hand in his own warm doughy one.

“What about the 37 weeks you helped me take care of my Dottie when she was dying of the cancer” asked Ralph. “If it wasn’t for you, I would have had to close the diner.” Ralph wiped his eyes and shook his head. “I never seen you smoke one of those cancer sticks that whole time” his voice trailed.

“Yeah, and not smokin’ them nearly killed me” rejoined Mildred.

“Now we’re getting somewhere” chirped Agnes. “We have 37, 42 and…that other number. We only need two more and the Powerball number. I know, Millie, remember when I was running the bake sale for the library and nearly all my bakers had the flu? You baked 22 pies in two days. You saved my bacon and the bake sale.”

“That was pretty damn nice of me weren’t it?” Mildred smiled in spite of herself.

“It sure were…was” replied Agnes smiling back. “So now we have 22. How about 13” continued Agnes. “Lucky 13 for your birthday?”

“Yeah, sure, why not? Not that it never brought me no luck so far.”

“Millie, that’s a doub…never mind” said Agnes. “Ok” she continued “now we just need a number for the Powerball.”

“I got it” exclaimed Mildred. “One! For my one and only sister.” Her eyes twinkled.

“Perfect” said Agnes. “That does it. We’ve got 13, 22, 37, 42 and 69.” She whispered the last number. “And one for the Powerball. I’ll swing by Clark’s drugstore and get the ticket. The drawing is at 11:00 tonight. Way past my bedtime, but they announce the numbers again on the 7:00 morning local news. I’ll check in with you right after that Millie. I’m feeling lucky!”

The following morning Agnes perched on the edge of her sofa, the yellow and black ticket in one hand, sweet creamy tea in the other.

“Welcome back to Sunrise in Saddle Creek” chirped Sally Smith the perky local anchor with the brunette bob. Agnes loved her. Mildred couldn’t stand her. “It’s time for our Powerball numbers. Apparently it will be big news for one of our very own citizens” winked Sally, “but you know you are all winners to me.” Agnes could hear Mildred groaning from three miles away.

“Here goes” said Sally. “The numbers are: “lucky 13,” Agnes smiled, “22,” Agnes raised an eyebrow, “37,” Agnes raised the other eyebrow, “ 42,” Agnes’ eyes widened. “And….the last is……69” exclaimed Sally suddenly looking uncomfortable. Agnes’ eyebrows shot up and her tea cup shook. “Now” said Sally “the Powerball number is” her voice elevated…”one!”

Agnes’ tea cup smashed to the ground, sweet creamy tea splashing and puddling at her feet. She grabbed the phone, and pulled it onto her lap. She stayed seated for fear of fainting. She removed the receiver and began dialing Mildred’s number. She had trouble keeping her finger in the dial her hands shook so. The dial moved molasses slow. Her fingers fumbled and she had to start again.

“C’mon, c’mon, faster, faster” she urged. Maybe she should think about one of those new fangled cell phones everyone has their faces glued to. Heck, she and Mildred could practically buy the phone company now.

She continued to struggle with the dial as she heard Sally’s voice drift across the living room.

“In sadder news, there was a devastating house fire in Saddle Creek last night on Oak Street. An elderly woman was found and rushed to the hospital. Unfortunately, she was pronounced dead on arrival due to smoke inhalation. The identity of the victim is pending notification of her next of kin.”

Agnes stopped dialing. Her index finger slowly rode the dial backwards as she gently replaced the receiver. Her head hung heavy. The lottery ticket drifted to the floor, soaking up the sweet spilled tea.