Page 17 of The Last Days of Lilah Goodluck

Dad throws up his hands. “It’s the truth.”

“How are you feeling about it, Lilah?” asks Mom, wiping her hands on a cloth.

I down more of my cold brew and think it over. “I was upset at the time. But now I think I’m actually okay.”

“That means it was the right choice,” says Dad.

Mom nods wisely. “He was too normal for you, to be honest. A bit boring. You know what I mean?”

“No, I do not know what you mean.” I laugh. “How was he too normal? Does that make me abnormal? Please explain it to me, Mother.”

“What’s the other news?” asks Dad, coming in with a diversion. He obviously has no interest in watching a girl fight. As much as he enjoys a good debate, he hates to see us disagree.

“Oh. Um. I won the lotto,” I say. “Not the top prize, but not a shabby amount either. I got five numbers.”

“Five? Wow. How about that!”

Mom cocks her head. “That’s amazing. But you don’t gamble. You always said you couldn’t afford another bad habit, with what you spend on books and shoes.”

“That’s true.” I take another sip of coffee to buy myself time. “It was just... The thing is...”

“Yes?”

I hesitate and prevaricate and all the rest. Telling them just doesn’t seem like a good idea.

“Who cares? Call it a random stroke of luck,” proclaims my father with a grin. “Congratulations, honey. What are you going to do with the money?”

“It’s about a quarter of a million after tax. I’m not sure yet. I think I’m still in shock.”

“Lilah! That’s incredible!” gushes Mom with wide eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Possibly life-changing. It might not feel real until you see it in your account. I could make you an appointment with our financial planner,” Dad says. “You let me know if you’re interested.”

“As long as you’re not going to spend all your time hanging out at casinos from now on,” says Mom. “I had an uncle like that. He would set his alarm to wake him at two in the morning. He had this theory that less people in the casino meant more luck to go around. It was sad to see him throw his life away. You’re not going to start doing that sort of thing, are you?”

It’s possible that I also get the penchant for randomness and drama from my mother. “No, Mom. I can honestly say the thought has never crossed my mind. Though I am taking the week off. I was due a break from work anyway.”

Cue another round of hugging. Then Dad is off to hang out in his office and work on his book about ethical theory, and I am left alone with the family matriarch.

There was always a solid chance I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to tell them about the predictions. For so many reasons. The key one being, my time might be limited, and I’d rather focus on making good memories. But I also want to relive the best bits of my life. The everyday things I took for granted. “Mom, if I make a sad face, will you bake me your chocolate chip cookies?”

“I don’t know.” She gives me a long look. “I just cleaned up. It would need to be truly wretched.”

“I’m talking profoundly pathetic. Like lost Dickensian orphan pressing her nose against your kitchen window on Christmas Eve.”

“Hmm. You’d need to squeeze out a tear or two. Do you think you’re up to it?”

I laugh. And then I stop laughing because this is serious. This might well be the last time I see my parents. I have no idea what the next week will bring. A lump is lodged in my throat, making it impossible to swallow. “I’m sorry I was such a pain in the ass growing up. You know I appreciate you, right?”

Mom cocks her head. “You weren’t a pain in the ass.”

“What about when I was a teenager? All the sneaking off to parties and skipping class?”

“To my knowledge, you snuck off to exactly two parties and skipped class once in a blue moon.” Her gaze is full of confusion. “Lilah, where is all of this coming from?”

“Nowhere. It’s nothing.” I pull up my metaphorical brave big-girl panties and paste on a smile. “You were going to make me cookies.”

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