Page 30 of The Lottery

He raises an eyebrow in surprise.

Did he know I was supposed to be sitting there?

My heart throbs in my chest and I feel ridiculously light-headed.

I take a sip of my wine.

Did he specifically arrange for me to be sitting at his table?

Of course he didn’t. I’m being absurd. He has bigger things to worry about than seating arrangements. This is Lana’s event, not his.

He keeps his eyes locked on mine as he takes his seat. Others join the table, but he hardly interacts with anyone beyond a quick greeting, after which he turns back toward me again. I only know this, of course, because I can’t stop staring at him.

Eventually I force my gaze away from Marek before someone notices me staring and says something. When I rejoin the conversation at my table, Vincent is monologuing about how he got his ticket punched for a trip to Mars.

“I got in Marek’s ear two years back,” he explains with a ceaseless smile, the kind you expect from a car salesman. “We leased mining land in Canada until production dried up, and I told him he could start building his launch site there as long as my wife and I got a room with a view on Mars.”

It’s nice to see a sweet older couple like Vincent and Miriam who didn’t have to enter a lottery. Alternatively, it would have been great to see a twenty-something couple who might not have owned mining land on Earth but also wouldn’t have made demands about the view from their Martian apartment.

Oh well.

“So Zae,” Nicolette says, leaning across the table and grabbing my hand. It’s a friendly gesture, one that I almost appreciate since I’ve been without a normal, non-contractual companion since arriving. “How’s the sex?”

Her eyes dart between me and Robert. He chokes on his drink a little and I just let my mouth hang open.

“Sorry to be forward,” she explains, “just seems like the concept of privacy went up in flames when a computer used our personal info to determine the rest of our lives. Buddy and I got right to it, and I think that helped.”

“That’s what I would have done,” Vincent says. He throws a wink at Miriam who shakes her head and takes a drink of her wine.

I look to Robert to see if he has an answer, then immediately look away because our faces are redder than the planet on which we’ll soon be residing. I’m thinking about dropping my silverware so I can crawl under the table and hide when a clinking sound from the Captain’s table causes everyone to turn their attention to the front.

Marek stands behind his table and studies the room while he waits for everyone’s attention, though his gaze returns to mine and lands there. It doesn’t take long for the room to quiet—it’s impossible not to be captivated by this man.

Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “This was never meant to be humanity’s only successful escape to Mars. We were meant to be one of many. Mission after mission failed, leaving this ship with just under 200 passengers and crew to succeed where others have not. Rest assured, we will make it to Mars.” He pauses while several people politely clap.

“We’re nearly a quarter of the way through our six-week journey. Sooner than you expect, we will land and begin a new life on a new planet.”

“But we’ll still be living in the ship, right? Just park our hotel and keep this party going?” Buddy lobs the question with an undo amount of attitude, but Marek just cocks his head.

“Yes, this will be our temporary home while we build new dwellings on the terraformed planet.”

“As long as we don’t run out of alcohol,” one person in the back says. Several laugh in agreement.

Marek looks as annoyed as I feel at the juvenile interruptions. It seems like he has more to say, but then he shakes his head. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Why even bother speaking if you’re not going to say anything?” Buddy says, pouring himself another drink.

Others laugh, and everyone at our table begins to talk at once.

When Robert gets up and asks if I’d like to go with him to get food, I take the opportunity to excuse myself.

“I’m not a public restroom girl,” I lie, not caring in the slightest about peeing next to someone else in a stall. “Just going to run to the room and then I’ll come back.”

If I have to sit and listen to one more story about how Buddy met a supermodel somewhere and had sex with her, while Nicolette sits beside him smiling stiffly, I’m going to scream. I’ll need to have a chat with Robert, let him know that I won’t be spending more time with Buddy anymore. Bob the Builder can do what he likes.

As I cross the room, I glance toward Marek’s table and feel my heart sink. He’s gone. It’s silly to feel so disappointed. At most we would have likely exchanged a smile, maybe a brief greeting. Certainly nothing to be heartbroken about.

And yet I can’t help it. His face is the only one I want to see right now.

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