LEFTY — Chapter One

by Mary Thomas

When people think of the best day of their life it is usually some sappy emotional thing, like “when I met my wife” or “when I fist laid eyes on my newborn child.” I call bullshit on that. It is more likely to be when you won the super bowl pool or fucked the virgin prom queen.

My mother would say the happiest day of her life was when I graduated from law school. Bullshit. The happiest day of my mom’s life was the day after my father left her. It’s great when they sneak up on you. Mom went to bed thinking her life was over. But the next morning she didn’t have to get up to iron shirts or make breakfast. She slept until 10:00am, which was unheard of. When she got up, she didn’t put on make up, or a nice outfit. She sat on the couch in sweats watching the Home and Garden Network. That evening she made what she wanted for dinner, and made it for one. She didn’t have to try to think of dinner conversation that was bland enough not to send my father into a rage, but interesting enough not to be completely ignored by him. All the neighbors gossiped about how overwhelmed with grief she was. How she was letting herself go. The truth was my mom got to stop pretending to be happy. Ironically, this made her happy.

I was indifferent when my dad left. I was almost done with law school and I knew he would keep paying until I was done just so he could say his son was a lawyer too. We also had in common the fact that we were both total bastards. I may be giving myself too much credit by saying I was a total bastard, but I haven’t been acting like one since the best day of my life, and that counts for something.

The best day of my life was when I lost my hand. You know how in the Middle East they cut off your hand if you steal? A Middle Eastern bookie in Chicago will also cut off your hand if you can’t pay your debt. I was out of law school and was waiting to take the bar. The checks weren’t coming quite as frequently since I gradated from Kellogg, so I was doing some small bets to enhance my income. I’m not going to tell you the rest, because it is a fucking cliché that you have heard a million times. It would be a story full of “I never thought it could happen to me,” “before I knew it I was in over my head,” and of course the “I will get you the money next week.” Fucking pathetic.