The Lost Ticket

Ten thousand pounds is a lot of money, Andy thought. Money he could definitely use, considering how much he paid for rent, paid for food and his car every day. Ten thousand pounds was a lot of money. It wasn't the world, but it would refill his lungs with oxygen while he was trapped in this drowning car that his life had become. Damn it, he thought. For once I could pay the landlord on time, get him to shut up for at least three months. I could take Laura out for dinner, someplace nice, not too fancy, I don't want to spoil her, but some French restaurant with a separate wine menu and all that shit, prove to her that I’m not the failure that she thinks I am. He was nervous, couldn’t stand still and walked up and down the room instead. The wooden floor was quietly complaining, it was old and had been walked up and down on a million times before. At the window he came to a halt. He put down his revolver on the window sill and opened the blinds with his thumb and index finger. How the hell did I end up in this mess.

The apartment was on the fifth floor of an old residential building with no elevator, he had to carry the old bastard up the stairs. It was close to the abandoned train station that most trains don’t even stop at anymore. The whole neighbourhood – once an expensive quarter – was now rundown and poor like a long-forgotten suit in the back of a dusty closet, full of wrinkles and its colour slowly fading. Andy looked at the building on the other side of the street. It was a brick house with tall windows. The windows had tiny bright-coloured hand prints on them, traces left behind by playful children. They made him think about his future, made him imagine a life with his own wife and kids. They made him think about Laura. Together they would break out and start all over again. Far away from here, in another city, perhaps even another country. She always wanted to see Paris, he thought. The afternoon sun appeared from behind a cloud. Andy let the blinds snap back together and the room filled with filtered sunlight. 

Andy picked up the revolver and wiped away a tear with the same hand. “Hey, you old fuck,” he said. He pulled up a chair next to Frank, who was sitting tied to the radiator. What the hell am I doing here, Andy thought. He’s just an old man. Why would he steal from the boss, why would he be so stupid? He should know better, he’s been in this business his whole life. “Why’d you do it, old man? Tell me, why did you steal from Mr. Eric and put me in this fucking mess?” Frank remained silent, breathing heavily. Just like my old man, Andy thought. “I’m not gonna hurt you, Frank. Just tell me why you did it.” 

     Frank coughed twice and cleared his throat. “You know,” he started, “I was once exactly like you, Andy. Ambitious and full of pride. Also, full of fear.”  

     “What the fuck are you talking about?” Andy yelled, but his voice was shaking.

     “I don’t blame you. I understand that you have to do what you think is best for you. You have a career, a lifetime ahead of you. Perhaps you have a girl you want to take care of.” He coughed again, twice, and continued, “No, I don’t blame you, kid. You’ve done everything right, everything you’ve been asked to do. But listen, I have something I want to ask you, too. What the hell are you still doing – ” 

A hard knock on the door shuts him up. Andy froze and stared at the entrance. Another angry knock, “Open the fucking door!” The voice was followed by a pounding fist. Andy jumped up and ran to the door to open it. It was old Jimmy, followed by Mr. Eric. He looked at Andy, looked at him hard. Andy was overwhelmed by the situation. His boss took his revolver and said: “What the fuck took you so long?” Not even waiting for an answer he pulled an envelope from the inside pocket of his coat. “This is yours. Now piss off, son.” 

     Andy took the envelope without checking its contents. His boss slowly walked past him. He hesitated, and finally said: “What’s gonna happen to the old man?” 

     “What did you just say?” Mr. Eric turned around, pointing the gun at Andy. “You better get the fuck out of here, boy. And close the door behind you, before I change my mind.” 

Andy backed off into the stairway. He shut the door and took a deep breath. What the hell just happened, he thought. His heart was racing. Damn Andy, what the hell was that? He opened the envelope and counted the bills. Ten thousand pounds. He tucked it in his jacket pocket and started walking. Then, out of nowhere, a gunshot. Andy stopped. The whole world stopped. He knew what had happened, but he couldn't believe it. He couldn't breathe, but he had to keep moving. He resumed walking, climbing down the stairs. His knees were shaking, but he had to get away. He fell out of the building, into the street. I’m sorry, Frank, he thought. His eyes filled with tears, he couldn't help it. But this time he didn’t wipe them away.