Lose Some, Win Some

??? Stephen almost didn't see her because the desert sun was low. He was daydreaming of failure, an unrelenting dream of his. His hand jerked at the blinker, a reflex, a reaction, much like the moment six months ago when he decided to start his movement west, away from his home on the New Brunswick coast.

? The brakes grinded as he slowed the rusted, green Pontiac. He glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw she was running, her long dark hair waving behind her. The blue fumes from the exhaust drifted at her. She may be beautiful, he hoped; but he was very tired and knew he must be wrong.

?? He reached to unlock the door, but hesitated. Moving his head to look at her again in the mirror, Stephen broke a promise and caught another glimpse of his face and the dead eyes.

?? He wanted to step on the gas, but opened the door instead. She threw a faded duffel bag on the floor and entered slowly like she might enter a bath. Stephen looked at her long legs first and then worked his way over her flat belly up to her face, which like the rest of her, was lean and smooth.

?? "What are you looking for in Vegas?" she asked, turning her brown eyes on him for a moment. He took two sharp breaths and then held his lungs tight, like a pearl diver, or a boxer expecting a punch to the ribs.

?? Stephen did not answer, but stepped on the gas pedal and pulled out into the traffic. He sniffed and smelled coconut oil.

?? "What's a fresh Canadian boy looking for in Vegas?" she asked.

?? He thought about his “fresh” life for a moment. He had been sleeping in his car and hadn’t showered in two days. Back home, he had failed as a fisherman because the ocean made him sick. He had been fired from a supermarket job for being drunk and calling his boss an asshole. He came from a town so small that he was related to the police chief and the fire chief -- and both men disliked him.

?? "I didn’t say I was going to Vegas. What's your name?"

?? "Shania. You have that dream look, that’s how I knew."

?? Stephen shook his head, but she did not see.

?? They were 200 miles from the city. Stephen touched his pocket where he had the $2,000 -- the last of his money, or “his friggin’ life,” as Stephen’s father had said.

?? Stephen wanted to strike hard in Vegas. He was drawn to the place. He never understood why and did not want to understand. The feeling was just was there, like the urge to drink beer or the craving for sex.

?? For months, he had studied gambling in the books at the library, and on the Internet. He was certain of his success. Others were not.

?? His father would snort and pound his hand, the one with the missing baby finger, on the kitchen table when he mocked Stephen’s plan -- something he did often. Stephen could hear the slap and see the finger stub always falling short of its brothers. He had been on the boat when his father lost had cut the finger off while preparing bait. The finger had fallen at Stephen’s feet. He had picked it up and held it before his face for a moment.

??? Stephen glanced at Shania and wondered if stopping for her, and changing her fortune, would keep alive the bad luck that trailed him. Stephen wondered if he had brought everything on himself as other surmised.

?? “Likely,” he said aloud.

?? “Huh?”

?? He glanced at Shania. Her eyes remained level with his.

?? "You are lost," she said.

?? Stephen turned away.

?? "I'm running too," she said.

?? “Jesus. Are you some sort of philosopher or something? To you, is this car really a train on a one-way track leading to lights and misery. Are you thinking this as you float outside looking in at our sad, shamed faces.”

?? “He does have a hand in things,” she responded, looking out her window.

?? "I'm Stephen," he said 30 miles later, still cursing himself.?????????????????????????

?? She nodded.

?? Stephen was a 4x4 truck stuck in the mud spinning its tires covering everything with brown muck.

?? “You must be crazy to think this will lead to anything,” Stephen’s father had said the day his son left. “Stay and work on the boat with your brother and me. Fish. Accomplish something with your hands. Don’t be a fool, but a man. Don’t run from this place.”

?? And when Stephen shook his head, his father had said: “After your mother died, I knew you would choose the other way. You know nothing about fate or luck. You know nothing about this place or us.”

?? And then he turned his back on Stephen and walked back to the house, only pausing at the front door to flick a loose piece of paint off the door frame with his finger stub.

??? Stephen yelled: “You are chasing a tuna that does not exist. They are not there anymore. You don’t matter to them.”

?? It rained and the wind blew in from the bay as Stephen drove from town. His father’s words had pushed Stephen and then followed him. Stephen was a child crawling just inches ahead of a flood.

?? The night came slowly. There were more cars on the road now and they were moving fast -- like fish to a net, thought Stephen.

?? Shania stirred.

?? “I have to say some things, Stephen,” she said in a low voice, almost so muted that he couldn’t hear her. “I’ve been thinking these things for so long, now I have to say them. You are the person I must speak with.”

?? He glanced at her, surprised.

?? “I grew up on with my nation in the Utah desert. A smelly white preacher abused me when I was very young. I did not speak of it. My father would not have understood because he seared his stomach and his mind with whiskey.”

?? “Don’t tell me . . .”

??? “Yes, I must tell. I was a whore, Stephen. A whore.”

?? The words choked her. Stephen slowed the car. He felt like a fool. His dream had been a fool’s dream. He bit his tongue.

?? “But I left the cocaine and the heaving, fat men behind and went back and learned about my culture, its history. I learned something about me. I learned about the sand, the rocks, and the animals. Now, here I am drawn back to the place. Why?”

?? “A better question is -- why are you telling me this?” asked Stephen. “Your fate is your fate. I picked you up and that changed things, but only for a short time.”

?? “I spoke to you . . . that is it,” she said.

?? Stephen wondered what the men who used her felt like when they were done. He touched his unsettled stomach.

?? The city lights hovered on the horizon and minutes later they were inside Vegas among the casinos.

?? “It is as bright as the sun here, is it not?” said Shania as they stopped at a traffic light. Do you miss the ocean?” she added, turning to face him for a moment.

? He nodded.

?? Stephen pulled the car into a gas station. Shania picked up her bag and got out. He followed her.

?? "Thank you, Stephen," she said.

?? Stephen stared at her. Her head was high, but her thin shoulders were hunched, like she was preparing to surrender. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his money. He held out $500 to her.

?? "We're a couple of winners," he said.

?? Shania smiled. He decided she was beautiful.

?? She took the money, brushing his hand with her fingers. Lowering her eyes, she turned and walked away. Stephen almost went to her. He wanted to hold her and whisper to her. He watched until he could not see her.

?? He turned and walked into the gas bar and asked directions to the casino where he had vowed to defeat fate. He looked for Shania as he drove.

??? The large man who carried his bags to the room laughed when Stephen told him where he was from.

?? “I have a cousin who went there once,” he said. “He told me the ocean crashes very hard against the rocks, which was very exciting for him. The icebergs are 10,000 years old. That is very old.

?? “It is exciting for some people,” said Stephen, wondering what Shania’s people were like 2,000 years ago. Stephen’s great, great grandfather had fished for tuna.

?? “There are no icebergs on my coast. That’s up near Newfoundland,” he said to the valet before he closed the door.

?? The casino was busy. It was beyond anything he had imagined. Voices mingled with the sounds of the slot machines, creating a song that Stephen did not recognize. He spotted the black-jack tables and then went to the bathroom to wash his face.

??? He counted his money on the counter in front of the mirror. He had 500 fewer dollars but felt confident. He threw his shoulders back and puffed out his chest and looked at himself in the mirror. Money to gold. Money to gold. He held out his hands and looked at his fingers.

??? Four hours later, Stephen was done.

?? He couldn’t sleep in his room so he drove outside the city and stopped in the desert. He got out and looked at the stars. He raised his hands as if to touch them.

?? Stephen got back in his car and, guided by the stars, headed south.

? Growing thirsty, he stopped at a truck stop to get a beer. When he came out, he saw a shadow by the car. It was Shania!

?? She waved at a nearby taxi driver, who drove off.

?? Shania held out her hands. Stephen took them.

?? "Isn't luck a lady?" she said.

?? He did not answer. She stepped back and unzipped her bag and held it before him. It was full of crisp $100 bills. Hundreds of them.

?? "We were always going the same way,” she said.

?? Stephen stepped back and looked at her closely. Then he walked to the car and opened the door for her. Her bare arm brushed his and he held his breath.

?? “I’m very sorry,” he said.

?? They drove through the desert toward the coast.

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