Page 44 of The Lottery

“Pfft. You did more than that baby.” Silas looks at me, leans forward conspiratorially. “Lana ran the biggest pharmaceutical company on the planet. True… True... something.”

My eyes go wide. “TrueCare?”

Lana sighs, taking another puff of her e-cig.

Fuck. She’s Lana Dubois. She hasn’t opened up about her past the few times we’ve talked, and now I know why.

TrueCare was the biggest medical app ever, providing everyone with--if you believed their marketing team--easy and affordable therapy and medical care. Of course, they made a shit ton selling prescription medication. Something people needed more and more of as the whole world burned down around them.

Silas claps his hands together. “TrueCare. That’s it. Easiest way to get drugs ever. I remember my dealer--”

“Stop it.” Lana cuts him off, eyebrows furrowed. “Stop it. I want to talk about something else.”

Silas shrugs. “Babe, come on. You made something amazing.”

“It was supposed to be.” She looks down, her finger flicking at her e-cig, trying to dislodge away the ash that isn’t there. “It was supposed to be a way for everyone to have free therapy. Of course, free was impossible. So free became cheap. And trying to reach everyone… well.. zhat meant getting investors, board members, going public.” She makes an ugly noise as if she just ate something vile. “And then cheap became expensive.”

I notice the sadness in her eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

She tilts her head, a slow and empty smile stretching over her face. “Ah. That is, how do you Americans say it, old news now. So…” She leans back comfortably, but keeps her body tilted away from Silas. He doesn’t seem to notice, or at least pretends not to, tossing another peanut into his mouth. The void between them makes me think of Robert and I, but at least they make a show of intimacy, even if it is only a show.

“I’m going to make a drink,” Lana says quickly, standing up before she’s even finished her sentence.

“Get me one while you're at it, babe.”

“Of course, dear.” She stretches out the last word for too long. Takes too deep a breath after. She looks at me, and I feel like I see her tired for the first time. “What about you, Zae?”

“I’m good. Thanks.”

She nods, then plucks two glasses from the bar. “So, how is Robby?”

I blink. “Robby? Oh, Robert. He’s… fine.” At least… I hope he’s fine. He could be great. He could be breaking inside and I would never know. I try to smile, try to seem like the kind of woman who is in love with her partner. The way Lana does. But the smile doesn’t stick. And my thoughts are pulled back to Marek. Always Marek.

“On second thought... I’ll have that drink.”

* * *

We spend the rest of the night emptying glass after glass, each of us drowning something out. We talk about little things at first. Getting used to life on the ship. The limited food menu. The way the steel walls always feel cold. Then we talk about Earth. About our last days on the planet. The forests we heard were destroyed. The childhood homes we saw burn down. The people we knew who weren’t as lucky as us.

“I grew up by a river,” says Silas, his words slurring together. “Mother always told me she’d take me there when I was young, and I would swim in the water. Thing is, I can’t remember it. I can’t remember the water. Anytime I try, all I see is a dried out riverbed full of smoldering stones.” His eyes water, and he takes another swig of whiskey. “I wish… I wish she was here.”

Lana sighs. “She was no good for you, Silas. You told me the things she did. The way she disciplined you--”

“She was my mother.” He turns to her. Maybe the first time this entire night. His words sharp and bitter.

“You crave her approval. It is only natural. But you don’t need to prove anything. Not anymore.”

Silas turns back to me, rolling his eyes. “Out of all the billionaires on this ship, I get partnered with the fucking therapist.” He puts two fingers together, mimicking a gun, and pretends to shoot his own head.

The look on Lana’s face could burn through steel. “We’re going.” She slams her drink down on the table. Hard.

“What?” Silas looks startled. “Babe. Come on. I…” He rubs forehead. “I shouldn't’ have said what--”

Lana stands, moving quickly for the door, surprisingly steady on her feat. “I’m sorry, Zae. Bonne soirée.” She walks out, and Silas follows her wordlessly, looking back at me once, an apologetic grin on his face.

I sink into the couch, trying to dissect what just happened, too drunk and exhausted to make sense of it all. Silas and Lana’s relationship is far from perfect. Closer to bad than good, I’d say, with no real hope for escape. Not yet, at least. Still...

We’re the lucky ones.

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