You Can't Win

December 9, 2006. Detroit, Michigan I already have the lie figured out. If John calls I’ll tell him I’m shopping. Christmas is only two weeks away. It’s a reasonable story. He’ll believe that. I drive to the MGM Grand Casino trying to fight off the guilt. The instant I walk through the inviting doors of MGM’s Technicolor world I feel a pulse of excitement wash over me. It’s 12:30 in the afternoon and already the place is buzzing. I try a few machines but I’m constantly checking my cell phone to see if John has called. The room is noisy enough that I could easily miss the ring. After every few plays I reach into my purse for the phone. Nothing. I know he’ll call, though. He’ll be checking for sure. “I’m looking for a scarf for your mother I’ll say.” When I get home without one I’ll tell him I couldn’t find one I thought she’d like. “Do you think blue or brown is better?” I’ve gotten real good with the lies. I’m on a machine I’ve never played before so I’m not quite sure what to expect. I take a deep breath and reach for my Newport Menthol 100's while I sip my usual drink—Diet Pepsi with three cherries. I’m feeling lucky because my left hand is itching. Always a good sign. I start playing triple sevens, a dollar machine. I’m playing $3.00 per spin, the max. I plug in a few dollar coins, push the button, check the phone. A few more dollars drop. I’m looking for a red, a white, and a blue seven for a big payoff. The magic wheels spin in a blur. The first 7 comes up red, the next a triple sign, then another triple sign. My heart starts pounding. I know what this means. Two triple signs and a red 7 pays 9 times the amount on the pay table. The glorious, wonderful, fantastic, stunning sound of bells and flashing lights. For a brief moment I freeze. The fat lady at the next machine looks over at me with that look of jealousy I know well. I don’t know exactly what the payoff is, but those bells tell me it’s good. I'm on a main walkway so lots of people come over to look. This is one of the reasons people spend time here. A big winner! If John calls now, the bells will give me away. I won’t answer but I’ll call him back in a few minutes and tell him I had my hands full and couldn’t get to the phone just then. I am grinning the grin of a happy gambler. “Way to go,” someone says over my shoulder. How many times have I pushed these buttons without winning? I can’t even imagine. Now comes the big payoff. I’m a big winner. Finally! The bells bring not only some onlookers, but also a burly man from the casino. “Congratulations” he says in a dull tone. “Thank you,” I say as if I’ve just done something more important than pushing a button. “Can I see your driver’s license?” he says. Instantly the exhilaration turns to fear and I begin shaking. I reach into my purse for my wallet and see the phone. No, I wish John were here. I don’t like this at all. I have some difficulty sliding my license out from the plastic envelope because of the shakes. I know the man can see this. “And your social security card,” he adds. While I’m digging for the card several security guards come and surround me. I hand over the license and card. The man looks at them for a moment. As much as I try, I can’t stop shaking. He puts the cards in his jacket pocket. “Would you mind coming with us, please,” he says very pleasantly so as not to alarm the ever-growing crowd of onlookers. Escorted by an undercover officer and a uniformed guard, we make our way through aisles of familiar machines to a private elevator off to the side of the cashier’ cages. No one says anything to me. I am scared beyond belief. All I can think about is John. I don’t want him to know, but at the same time I want him to tell me what to do. Oh, my God, I think, what if they take my phone and he calls! A female guard is in the elevator. “Put your hands out to your sides” she says as she pats me down. “We have to make sure you don’t have any weapons on you.” “Weapons?” “Just a precaution.” I don’t know if we’re going up or down. I’m too scared to notice, but shortly the doors slide open and I’m led to a small room with a table and some chairs--just like in the movies. I’m told to sit. I’m in serious trouble and I know it. I start to cry. ONE It’s the order of things. First a little lie, then a bigger one, and soon it becomes who you are. I can’t remember when I first noticed the change. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. I just didn’t want to believe it. I guess that isn’t much of an excuse, but it’s the truth. If I had been able to look years into the future and see myself as the lying, tormented person I became, I never would have recognized myself. This was before the lies. Before the slots. Before Bobby and John.