Authors: C D Ledbetter
Her doctors and therapist warned her that until she accepted the fact that she could never paint or sketch again, she would never move forward. For four months, she’d struggled against the inevitable, disbelieving her neurologist’s findings and seeking other opinions, but with each confirming diagnosis, the tiny flicker of hope she determinedly clung to finally died. Her life as an artist was over. Finished.
Never again would she hold a paintbrush between her fingers and feel the joy of watching an idea spring to life on a piece of canvas. No longer could she sketch images from memory and fill a piece of paper with beautiful drawings. Those pictures, like the hopes and dreams she once had, would now remain locked inside her mind, a prisoner of the past, barred from coming into fruition by a terrible quirk of fate that shattered her life into a million pieces in the span of an instant. Oh sure, she could scribble her name, but that was it.
Through a haze of tears, she made a quiet circuit of the room, touching first one painting, then another. Finally, when her tears and sorrow subsided, she felt strangely at peace. Taking a deep breath, she turned to take one last look at her life’s work, then quietly closed the door.
Rational thought eventually returned. For the first time in months, Emily looked at her reflection in the mirror and saw not the face of a victim with cruelly shattered dreams, but a living, breathing woman, whose future lay ahead, not behind.
It was time to get on with her life. As she sorted the stack of bills piled on the coffee table, Emily realized she couldn’t hide out in her apartment forever; she needed to think about finding a job. She had her accident settlement, but it wasn’t enough to support her for an extended length of time. It was time to think about another way to make a living.
Thankfully, she could still afford to keep a roof over her head. Earlier, faced with months of physical therapy, Emily followed her doctor’s suggestion and relocated to an apartment outside San Diego, three miles from an authorized clinic. San Diego was definitely not Hollywood or Los Angeles, but it wasn’t the worst place in the world to live. Once therapy ended, she’d start a new life. Thousands of businesses thrived in the heavily populated city; it wouldn’t be hard to find a temporary job until she decided what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
Her only impediment would be that, because of her intensified hearing, she couldn’t work around loud noises. Instead of becoming deaf from her head injury caused by the accident, Emily’s hearing actually intensified to a point where background noises, like the hum of a computer running, caused excruciating pain. After several unsuccessful attempts to alter normal hearing aids, her audiologist’s lab eventually came up with a specially designed pair that did the opposite of what they were supposed to do—they filtered mechanical noise to an acceptable level instead of amplifying it. Emily’s insurance company screamed when they got the bill—the set cost five times what regular hearing aids did, but they were worth it, because when she wore them, Emily didn’t suffer migraines from hearing noises other people didn’t.
She winced as a police car screamed past and clapped her hands protectively over her ears. When a second and third car followed, she fumbled in her purse for her hearing aids, clamped her fingers around the tiny pieces of plastic, and shoved one into each ear.
Ah, blessed relief. Emily wandered into the compact kitchen in search of a soothing cup of tea. As she waited for the water to boil, she sat at the kitchen table to make a list of possible occupations. Absorbed in her task, she didn’t realize she had company until the rapping became insistent.
Rosie strode into the room, settled her ample frame on the sofa, and passed the plate. "Here, help yourself. They’re still hot.”
“No problem." Rosie dragged her fingers through her short, black hair. “The kids are helping my husband put together a model; they’re probably driving him crazy by now.” She grinned mischievously. “With those three, too much togetherness is not a good thing. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Tonight is our weekly ‘Girls Night Out.’ Wanna go?"
Shaking her head, Emily opened her mouth to decline, but Rosie held up a hand. "Before you say no, let me finish. There's only five of us. You need to get out of this apartment and take a break from worrying. It’ll be a fun way for you to meet some of the women in the building. They’re a hoot. We're going to dinner at the Indian Casino’s new seafood restaurant, and then we’ll probably play the slot machines for a little while. How about it?" She grabbed the plate of cookies and waved it under Emily’s nose. “If you say yes, I’ll even give you another plate of my famous ‘Death by Chocolate Cookies.’ What do you say?”
"Hummm. Slot machines? You know, I’ve always wanted to try the one-armed bandits.” Emily thought about it for a moment and then agreed. “All right. What time do we leave?"
"Great! Meet me downstairs at six.” Rosie brushed cookie crumbs off her shirt. "I’d better go. Tony's already grumbling about having to babysit the twins tonight. If I don’t get back soon, he might reconsider his offer.” She patted Emily’s shoulder. “I’m glad you decided to come. You’ve been cooped up in here way too long.”
“Don’t forget to bring a couple extra bucks for the slot machines," Rosie called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the hall.
Emily smiled and leaned against the door. Dinner with the girls might be fun. She hadn’t been out in a while. The only down side would be she'd have wear her hearing aids to tone down the noise. She reached up to touch the miniaturized devices and sighed. Wearing them reminded her that she wasn’t completely healed, and never would be. She hated being dependent on them, but unless she wanted to endure ringing in her ears and blinding headaches for days, she had to wear the blasted things.
Emily took her time getting ready, and when the wall clock chimed six, hurried to meet the other women. Most she recognized from the laundry room; others she’d passed on the stairs or mailboxes. Once Rosie made the introductions, she shepherded the group toward her van.
The women sampled their way through varied offerings of shrimp, prime rib, pasta salads, and dessert, and then decided to try their luck at the slots. Emily found herself alone when the group split up to search for a winning slot machine. An avid people watcher, she hovered for a few minutes near a group of senior citizens and watched as one little old lady commandeered an entire bank of nickel slots. Whenever someone walked by, the woman leaned to one side and stretched her arms across the bank of machines. Several people attempted to play one of the woman’s machines, and each time the feisty old lady scrambled off her stool, stood determinedly between the would-be slot player and the machine, and told the player to take a hike. When one man insisted that she had too many machines going, the old woman swatted him with her purse. Emily tried not to laugh as the man muttered under his breath and quickly moved away. God help anyone who tried to come between little old ladies and their slot machines!
Chuckling, she strolled down the aisle and after making sure nobody wanted it, selected a nickel machine on the back wall. It didn't take long to flag a roving change person and purchase ten dollars worth of nickels. Emily fed the coins into the slot machine one at a time, noting that the machine made an odd sound every time the reels spun and symbols appeared on the pay lines. With each successive nickel the noise grew louder, and she wondered if one of her coins was stuck on the inside. Frowning at the grinding noise, she turned to the man on her left. "Does my machine sound funny to you?” she asked. “It's making a strange noise."
He stopped shoving nickels into his machine and leaned closer. "What noise?"
"It happens when I press the ‘spin’ button. Wait, I'll show you." She dropped a coin into the machine, pressed the button, and waited. Sure enough, her machine made a funny grinding noise.
“Try it again. I don’t hear anything.” Getting out of his chair, he nudged Emily aside, then leaned forward and placed his head against the front panel of her machine. Emily dropped five coins into the coin slot, pulled the handle, and waited. The machine whirred, three bars lined up on the pay line, and once again she heard the odd buzz.
Straitening, the man shook his head. "Sorry, lady, but I don't hear anything.” He reclaimed his machine, dropped in a few coins, and pulled the handle. He moved closer, listened until the slot machine completed its cycle, and then straightened. “My machine's making more racket than yours." Gesturing with one hand, he continued to drop nickels into the coin slot. “Don’t worry about the noise; just play it till it quits. If it breaks, they have people to come fix it. Just play.”
"Thanks." Emily thought about moving to a different machine, but decided to stay where she was. “Okay, here goes. My last five nickels. Maybe the Goddess of Chance will shine on me and I’ll win.”
The man laughed. “That’s the idea. Somebody’s gotta win. Just keep shoving those coins in. These things are gonna pay off sometime. If you don’t play, you can’t win.”
She dropped in her last few coins and pulled the handle. Her machine still made noise, but this time it was on a much higher pitch. Even with her hearing aides in, the sound hurt, causing her to clap her hands over her ears. To her surprise, the lights on top of the slot machine blinked, bells whistled, and her machine blared out a loud tune. The winning symbol combination had lined up! Emily watched as the machine spit out nickel after nickel, and listened to the coins make a ting, ting, ting sound as they bounced into the metal tray below.
"Hey, lady. You hit the jackpot!" the man next to her shouted. "You won a thousand nickels!"
She grinned back at him. "I can’t believe it! This is the first time I've ever played the slots," she confessed. "How much is a thousand nickels?"
"Fifty bucks."
She felt her mouth drop. "What? Fifty bucks? That's all? Look at the machine. It's still dumping out coins! Are you sure a thousand nickels is only fifty bucks?"
He nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't knock it. At least you won something. I've been sitting here for over an hour, and I'm already out eighty bucks." He lowered his voice. "Since you’re a first timer, I'm gonna give you some advice. Don’t ever walk away from a machine until after the reels stop spinning. Somebody else could claim your money. And don’t put too much money back into that machine now that you’ve won. Once a machine hits the jackpot, it usually doesn't pay off again."
She patted his arm. "Thanks. I'll try another one once it finishes dumping my nickels.” A few minutes later she scooped her coins into a large plastic bucket, then roamed the aisles until she found an open machine. As Emily dropped coins into the slot, she listened for the sounds she’d heard before, but this time all she heard was the whirr, whirr, whirr of the reels as they spun and locked into position. When she'd lost about a third of her coins, she gave up and moved to a different aisle.
She hadn't played more than ten nickels when the slot machine creaked and groaned like the first one. What the devil? Shaking her head, Emily stared at the pay line, wondering if her imagination was playing tricks on her, or if the noise actually meant something. She tried to remember how long had it been from the time the noise started until the first machine paid out, but couldn’t, so she dropped in three more nickels and crossed her fingers.
This time the noise rose several octaves, causing her head to throb. Was it going to hit? Unable to stand the suspense, she closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, two jackpot symbols rested on the pay line in front of her, and the third reel was still spinning.
Emily held her breath until the spinning stopped, revealing the third jackpot symbol. She'd won again! Holy Cow! She jumped off her chair and watched as the lights on top of the slot machine flashed and the music blared. Once again the familiar ting, ting, ting of nickels bouncing into the metal tray boomed in her ears. Another fifty dollars! She could do this all night!
Once the machine stopped spitting out nickels, she glanced down at her watch. Damn. Ten o’clock, time to meet up with the rest of the group. She hurried to the payout window and slid her buckets toward the teller. The woman dumped her nickels into a square coin counter bin in the center of the room. A digital screen positioned above the bin flashed out incremental amounts, then stopped at sixty-eight dollars and thirty-five cents.
Grinning at the teller, Emily stuffed the money into her wallet and rejoined her group in front of the casino. On the way home, she hesitantly told them she'd hit two jackpots.
Rosie, one of the losers, summoned a smile. "Not bad for a rookie, Emily. What's your secret? Do the machines talk to you?"
"You're not going to believe this, but they do," Emily replied.
The group burst into laughter.
"So, are you hooked for life now that you've hit two jackpots on your first visit?" Betty asked. She touched Emily's arm. "Be careful. There's a down side to gambling. It's easy to get so caught up in the fever that gambling becomes your whole life. I know, because as a counselor, I've seen it happen too many times. It’s the same story over and over again. People win the first couple of times out and think it's great. Then they raise the stakes and start to lose. The result is they become hooked and gamble all the time because they're so sure the next spin of the reels will make them a winner once again. Before they know it, they've lost their job, their house, and their family. I don’t want that to happen to you."
Emily patted her fingers. "Don't worry. I'm sure my win was a fluke. I’ll tell you what, though. I sure got a kick out of hearing those nickels go ting, ting, ting."
Later, as Emily got ready for bed, she wondered if fate was playing another cruel trick on her. Had she had a stroke of good fortune? God knows she was due one. Or…was it something else? Had her heightened sense of hearing allowed her to discern which machine was ready to pay off? It sure would be ironic if the injury that ended her artistic career turned out to be a benefit rather than a burden.
She thought about the different machines she'd tried. The first one made noise as soon as she put money into the coin slot. After that, it was probably only ten or twelve pulls before the noise level changed and the machine paid off. The second machine, however, hadn’t made any grumbling whatsoever.