Jackpot! Page 4

  On this particular Friday night, I took off my coat, realizing that Ma’s question, “Why didn’t Max come tonight?” would never be asked again. Ever. Frankie didn’t say a word about it. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all, and after a few minutes I realized that my break-up had disappointed her so much, that for the first time in her life, Frankie Jacobson was perhaps speechless.

  I had called her that morning and told her that Max and I were through. My hand was shaking as I dialed my mother’s number.

  “Hello?” Frankie answered the phone.

  “Hi Ma, it’s me,” I said, realizing that my voice was shaking too. Breaking the news to Frankie seemed scarier than breaking the news to Max.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked immediately. The funny thing about Frankie was that she could actually read my mind. Danny’s too. The woman was completely intuitive when it came to us. She was able to detect voice inflection, tone, and meaning behind everything Danny and I said, and even what we didn’t say! That was why I was dreading the conversation that was about to take place.

  “Nothing, why?” I answered, knowing full well this was a pointless response, since I wasn’t going to fool my mother.

  A moment of silence followed, before Frankie spoke again. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “You broke up with Max,” she said in a sad voice.

  It was truly amazing. The mind-reader already knew. And all I could think about was my poor mother. There wasn’t a woman in Chicago who wanted grandchildren as much as she did, and now her chances of that had just gone from slim to slimmer. A future filled with sweet little voices, visits to the park, and trips to Costco for diapers and formula was more distant than ever. While her friends would continue babysitting their dozens of grandchildren, Frankie would remain a mother with two very independent, non-committal children.

  My mother was fifty-four years old. My dad had died when I was a toddler, and Frankie had never remarried, or even dated, for that matter. She had lived alone since I left for college, clinging to the hope that someday, when we got older, Danny and I would expand the family. Frankie used to tell me her goal was to be a grandmother by the time she was 50. When I got divorced, I realized she would not hit her objective.

  “How did you know?” I asked her, regarding the news I’d just delivered.

  “A mother knows,” said Frankie in her self-pitying voice.

  “I’m sorry, Ma.” I sat there wondering why I was apologizing to my mother for not marrying a man I didn’t love.

  “I just don’t understand,” Frankie began, “Max is such a good man. He’s smart, he’s rich…”

  As Frankie went on with a list of Max’s good qualities, I stopped listening and began to think about how much I had disappointed her over the years when it came to the men in my life.

  “I’m just so disappointed, Jamie,” was the next thing I heard her say. I realized now, that just like Frankie could read my mind, I could read hers, too.

  “Ma, I’ve got to go. I’m late for work,” I lied in a desperate attempt to end this conversation that was showering me with guilt I knew I didn’t deserve.

  “I love you, Jamie,” she said.

  Now I knew my mother felt badly about making the disappointment comment, and I realized her disappointment was in the situation, not in me. I also knew Frankie really meant it when she told me she loved me. And that’s how I was able to tolerate my mother and have a good relationship with her. I loved Frankie dearly, and I wanted to make her happy. But I couldn’t marry the wrong guy just because she wanted a Jewish son-in-law and babies.

  I told her we could talk more about it more later, even though I had no intention of bringing it up ever again. Then I said good-bye and I avoided her calls the entire day, wondering each time I saw Frankie’s number pop up, what people ever did without caller ID.

  Dinner seemed like a poker game, everyone at the table wondering who was going to hold out the longest and who was going to fold by using the “M” word (Max) first. I was a bundle of nerves, while my brother was enjoying the fact that tonight the focus was on me, and not on his non-commitment issues for a change.

  Just as the shrimp fried rice was making its way around the table, Frankie made a subtle move. “So…” she began in a casual, polite voice that both of us knew was forced, “Josh Katz’s wife is pregnant with number three.”

  “That’s nice,” I replied, remaining calm, as I took a couple spoonfuls of rice and then handed the container to Danny.

  My brother didn’t respond to our mother’s piece of gossip. Instead, he decided to stay silent and shovel rice onto his plate.

  Frankie continued, “You know Josh. He’s Sheila’s son.” She had stopped eating.

  “Uh huh,” I managed to respond while chewing.

  Frankie waited a couple seconds before she spoke again. “And Neil Goldblum is engaged.”

  “Great!” I responded, sounding so fake I made myself cringe.

  Danny added with a chuckle, “So, Neil decided not to come out of the closet, I guess.”

  I giggled.

  Our mother did not. She shot Danny a dirty look and then turned to me and said, “I’ll never understand why you two didn’t hit it off.”

  “Because he’s gay, Ma,” said Danny.

  “No,” I joked, “Because he’s a loozaaa…” Both Danny and I burst out laughing.

  Frankie fumed. “You two are immature and selfish. That’s the bottom line.”

  “Sorry, Ma,” said Danny, “We’re just kidding around.” He patted her arm in adoration.

  “Ma, we’re just picky,” I said, “I think Danny and I are both holding out for the right people.” I turned to my brother for support. “Right?”

  Danny nodded and I could tell he was just appeasing us. I knew deep down that my brother wasn’t holding out for anyone. He had no intention of settling down in the next century.

  “Is it so bad that I should want babies from my thirty-two and thirty-four year old children?” Frankie asked.

  “No, but don’t you care about what we want?” I asked.

  The conversation had finally struck a nerve with Danny. He put his fork down and turned to me. “No. I don’t think she cares what we want.” Then he looked at Frankie. “Tell you what. Jamie will get back together with Max, marry him, have a baby, give up all her dreams, and live miserably ever after so you can have a grandchild.”

  “And what about you?” I asked him.

  “Me? I’ll knock some girl up and pretty much do the same thing…” He looked at our mother, “so you can have baby pictures to show your friends.”

  “What sweet children I have,” Frankie answered bitterly.

  I could tell Danny was angry now. What I didn’t know at the time was what an extremely sensitive subject this was for him, having just been asked by Jennifer to impregnate her.

  As we all ate in silence for the next few moments, I began to feel sorry for my mother. Frankie didn’t deserve this. The way she felt about having grandchildren seemed natural and normal. It was similar to the way a thirty-something person should feel about being ready to have children. Unfortunately, I realized there were two thirty-somethings sitting at this table who weren’t even close to being ready. I wasn’t sure Danny would ever take that plunge, not because he didn’t like kids, but because I wondered if he could ever commit to a woman long enough to bring the relationship to that level.

  As for myself, I was two for two when it came to picking the wrong guy. And if I couldn’t even get it right in the husband department, how the hell was I supposed to have a kid? But there was something else. I was very afraid of having a child, my reason stemming from my ex-husband constantly telling me I was too selfish to have kids. After having that drilled in my head for so long, it was hard to think otherwise.

  I really did understand my mother’s frustration, though. After all, Frankie had to deal with my divorce, which I knew horrified the woman. Additionally, she no
w had to accept the fact that Max wasn’t going to be her son-in-law. When I looked at her and saw the sadness in her eyes, the guilt I felt was so overwhelming, it nauseated me to the point where I felt like undigested crab Rangoon might end up all over the dining room table. My mother really did have a lot to be sad about.

  Frankie met her husband, Seth, in high-school and the two were married soon after. Seth attended a small college in the city, where he was earning his teaching degree at night. During the day, he worked at a shoe store. Frankie got a job as a secretary for a brokerage firm and was a waitress at night. Even with their hectic schedules and their limited time together, the two were very happy and very much in love, according to my mother.

  They were living in a tiny studio apartment, which they didn’t mind, till the place got a bit too small when Danny was born a few years later. The couple didn’t plan Danny, but birth control back then was a little more difficult to manage, and frankly I was surprised they managed to remain childless that long. My parents were thrilled to have a little boy, only now, Frankie had to quit her jobs, which made money tight. Still, they managed to get by.

  When my dad finally graduated, he got a job teaching at a suburban high-school and the three moved to a quiet little neighborhood nearby. I came along a couple years later, and things couldn’t have been better for the happy little family. Frankie and Seth were living their lives with much joy and happiness, and experiencing the fun of little ones like all parents should.

  Then tragedy struck. It happened on a Wednesday afternoon in December. Snow was falling pretty heavily and Seth was still at work around four o’clock. School had been out since 3:15, so all the kids were gone as were most of the teachers when they saw the snow getting thick. Seth chose to stay and get some work done, as he was enjoying the peacefulness of sitting in his quiet classroom alone. When he finally decided to head home, the roads were treacherous. Back then, no meteorologist could predict how much snow would fall, or how bad the conditions could actually get, so Seth wasn’t too worried about driving.

  As Frankie was preparing dinner and teaching us Hanukkah songs, she heard a knock at the door. She knew instantly that something was very wrong. When she answered the door, there were two policemen standing there. They told Frankie her husband was dead. He was twenty-seven.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, putting my hand on my mother’s shoulder, trying to comfort her, “I’d like to have a baby… maybe…someday, I think.” I noticed she hadn’t touched her food.

  “You think?” she replied.

  “Look, I don’t have a lot of faith in my parenting ability,” I said sadly.

  “That’s because your asshole ex-husband treated you like crap and made you feel bad about yourself,” Danny answered.

  Ma smiled at him for the first time that night. “You’re right,” she said.

  Danny added, “And Max…well, the thought of having sex with that guy would turn any woman off of wanting a kid!”

  I burst out laughing. My mother’s wide grin turned into a frown.

  “The other thing is,” I said, “I need to focus on my career now. My writing. I want to make movies, Ma. Did you know that?”

  Danny turned to me in support. “I respect that.”

  “Thanks. If I end up producing or directing anything, there’s a part for you. You know that, right?”

  Danny smiled back at me and then looked at our mother. “Do you even care about that, Ma?” Before she could answer he got up from his chair and headed into the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” asked Frankie.

  “I need another beer.”

  “Beer. My son drinks beer,” she said to nobody, “I shouldn’t even allow it in my house.” Then she looked at me. “I do care about that, honey. I just want you to realize the important things in life. Marriage, family, children. And Max would be such a great father.” Obviously, she wasn’t ready to let go of hope that there could be a reconciliation, which was completely out of the question in my mind.

  “Can we change the subject?” I asked, “How was your day, Ma?”

  “Fine. I took my morning walk with Sheila and then visited Mr. Fineberg. He had a hip replacement, you know.”

  “Yes, you told me.”

  “And then I bought my lottery ticket.”

  “Why do you play the lottery, Ma? Do you know what the odds are of winning?”

  My mother giggled, “My daughter, the lottery host is telling me not to play the lottery.”

  “There’s just no point.”

  “Well, I only play it on Fridays. For Shabbat.”

  I smiled at my mother’s cute tradition. An instant later, we heard Danny shouting from the kitchen. “Holy shit!” he cried. “What is it?” I asked.

  Danny dashed through the door with Ma’s lottery ticket in his hand. He was out of breath. “The TV was on. I just saw…”

  “You saw what?” I asked.

  “Ma won the lottery!

  From the front page of The Chicago Tribune, September 3, 2011.

  And The Winner is…

  Frankie Jacobson of Chicago was last night’s winner in the Illinois lottery. Sources haven’t confirmed, but it is believed Mrs. Jacobson’s winnings are in excess of 17 million dollars. A press conference is scheduled for today at noon, outside the WGB studio on Michigan Avenue. When asked in a brief phone interview how she was feeling, Jacobson, 54, who has been a widow for over thirty years, said, “I’m fantastic. I’m loaded!”

  Chapter 5

  When I walked outside of the studio and saw my mother standing in the spotlight getting ready to answer questions from reporters, all I could do was grin. Here she was, a fifty-four year old multi millionaire. In my opinion, no one deserved wealth more than Frankie did.

  My mother’s financial status had changed so many times during her life. For most of it, Ma struggled when it came to money. Growing up, her parents owned a small grocery store and they lived pretty well. But when Frankie was sixteen, her father became ill and died, and my grandmother took over the business.

  According to Ma, my grandma wasn’t as successful as her husband at running the store, and a few years later she was forced to close it. Frankie and Grandma were broke. They sold their house and moved to a small apartment. Desperate to earn a living, my grandmother got some jobs cleaning houses to make ends meet. My mother told me she was horrified and ashamed that her mom was a cleaning lady, but nonetheless, she volunteered to help her after school. Ma said as long as no one knew how she and grandma got money, she was okay with things. And they were able to hide their secret for a long time.

  Here’s the story my mother told me a long, long time ago. It is perhaps one of my favorite Frankie stories.

  Apparently, one evening, she and Grandma were cleaning the house of a very wealthy banker. My grandma was upstairs working in one of the bedrooms, while Ma was vacuuming the foyer. All of a sudden, she heard a knock at the front door. She shut off the vacuum cleaner and answered it. When she opened the door she saw two boys standing there. She recognized them from her school.

  Now Frankie wanted to die. Not only because her shameful secret was now revealed, but because of her appearance. She was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a torn tee-shirt, her typical working attire. Her hair was pulled back off of her face and she was sweating a little bit. She never felt more dirty or ugly in all her life.

  “Oh, thanks,” said the boy who lived there, whose name Frankie knew was Alex, “I forgot my key.”

  “Sure,” answered Frankie, who wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and never come out. As Alex whipped through the foyer and headed for the kitchen, the other boy just stood there staring at her.

  “What?” Frankie asked this kid who she was sure was fixated on her because he thought she was disgusting. The truth was, he was in awe.

  “I’m Seth. Seth Jacobson,” said the boy.

  “Hi,” she replied shyly.

  Then Seth gave her a big grin and said, “I already
know you’re your name. It’s Frankie.”

  Ma told me that was the moment she fell in love with my dad. They were instantly a couple, and when the news hit school that Frankie was a cleaning woman (thanks to Alex), Seth was the first one to support the profession and tell all the gossipers in the hallways that there was no shame in hard work. He even began helping Frankie and her mother clean houses. Dad was pretty popular, so if he thought something was cool, the kids were pretty forgiving. Plus, now that Frankie was Seth Jacobson’s girlfriend, she was popular and accepted.

  So now, the little girl who had worked so hard to get by, was majorly loaded. Here she stood, her shoulders back, her head held high, and a smile on her face the size of Texas. Ma was in her glory, the center of attention, and I could tell she was welcoming the opportunity of the press conference so she could live up to being the drama queen she truly was.

  There were seven different cameras shooting her and twenty microphones in her face. Next to her was a huge, cardboard check with the amount of her winnings, “$17,500,000,” boldly printed on it.

  “What are the odds that the lottery girl’s mother would actually win the lottery?” asked a reporter from WBBM. His tone was accusatory and at that moment, I noticed several other reporters waiting for my answer.

  “Are you interviewing me?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “The odds are pretty high,” I said with a nervous giggle.

  “Did you have anything to do with it?”

  “Maybe you should have an attorney next to you while you answer questions, Jamie,” said the traffic guy from the station.

  “That’s okay,” I answered him. Then I turned to the reporter and responded, “No. I didn’t rig anything if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  Right then, my producer, Richard stepped up to save me. “Actually, there’s an investigation going on right now to make sure everything was done fairly. That being said, we’re not concerned and we don’t suspect any foul play by Jamie or any other employee at WGB. This was a total, utter fluke, folks.”