Part 2: The Night She Stayed Over
Melissa kicked off her shoes and made herself at home like she always did, and for the first hour it was perfect. It was the best hour of my life, honestly. We sat on my secondhand couch and looked at the ticket together, and she kept reading the numbers out loud like she couldn't believe they were real. She made me show her the photos on my phone. She took a photo of the ticket with her own phone, "for the memories," she said, and I didn't think a thing about it. Sisters take photos. That's what sisters do.
"We should tell Mom," she said. "We have to tell Mom."
"Not yet," I said. "Marcus — the clerk — he said not to tell anybody until it's claimed and secured. I want to drive to Jackson tomorrow and file the claim."
Melissa nodded, but I saw something flicker across her face. "Tomorrow's a work day, Em. You work the lunch shift."
"I'll call in," I said. "Carla will cover for me. Two point four million dollars, Mel. I am not missing the claim window because of the lunch rush."
She laughed, but it sounded a little forced. "You need to put that ticket somewhere safe tonight. Like, really safe."
"I know. I'm going to put it in my Bible. On the shelf by my bed. Nobody's touching it."
I actually showed her where I was putting it. I know. I know how stupid that sounds now. But she was my sister. My big sister, who used to braid my hair and walk me to the bus stop. The idea that Melissa would steal from me — from me, Emily, the sister who babysat her kids for free when her husband Derek left her for three months in 2023 — it never crossed my mind. Not once.
We stayed up until almost midnight, talking about what we'd do with the money. She wanted a new SUV. She wanted to pay off her credit cards. She said, "When you get your money, Em, you could help me out a little, right? Family helps family." I said of course. Of course I would. She'd always been there for me.
Around midnight she said, "I'm too wired to drive home. Can I crash on the couch?"
"Of course," I said.
I went to bed with the ticket in my Bible on the shelf, and I slept the deepest, happiest sleep I'd had in years. I dreamed about Noah's face when I told him we were moving to a house with a yard. I dreamed about paying off every bill and never having to count change for gas again.
When I woke up at six, Melissa was already gone. There was a note on the kitchen counter in her handwriting: "Had to run — early shift at the salon. Call me after Jackson!! Love you!! M."
The couch blanket was folded neatly. The apartment door was locked from the inside, the chain on — she'd gone out through... no. She couldn't have. The only door was the front door, and it was locked with the chain still on from the inside.
Which meant she must have unchained it, slipped out, and somehow... no. The chain was ON. It was still on.
I didn't think about any of that yet. I was still smiling. I went to my bedroom, reached for my Bible on the shelf, and opened it.
The ticket was gone.
