Writer’s Block: The Real Prize
An unexpected phone call made Madeleine a big winner—in more ways than one
A lonely widow wins a contest, but walks away with something much more valuable than concert tickets.
Madeleine couldn’t believe her ears. It seemed that the caller was saying she had won tickets to the Stuart Mclean Christmas show in Toronto. She never won anything. In fact, she had a shoebox full of yellowing 6/49 tickets and raffle stubs to prove it.
The voice on the other end of the phone was saying, “We have four tickets to the matinee and a $ 200 gift certificate to the Old Spaghetti Factory for you to pick up.”
Madeleine was having trouble finding her voice. “Hello,” said the caller. “Are you still there?” “Yes... yes, of course. Sorry, did you say this was the library calling?”
“That’s correct. When can you come to receive your prize and have pictures taken?”
Madeleine found it hard to think. Stuart Mclean was her favourite storyteller. “Uh, when did you say the show was?” “December 11, at 2:30 p.m.” When she hung up the phone, Madeleine let out a little squeal. She scooped up her cat Charlie and danced around the living room. She swung him from side to side until he hissed at her. If only her George was here to go with her.
When she was spent with joy, Madeleine sat at the kitchen table and made a list of names from which she would invite three friends to join her. She sat for a minute savouring the thought. Then she called the first name on the list.
Katherine was going to be busy with the Volunteer Dog Walkers event she had promised to attend. “But thank you anyway,” she said.
Abigail had an appointment to have her roots done. “You know it’ll take me another two weeks to get in again. Hope you have fun.”
“I’m so sorry,” Victoria said. “My rug-hooking circle is having their Christmas get- together at my house that day. Be sure to tell me how it was.”
By the time she had crossed every name off the list, Madeleine’s joy had formed a puddle at the bottom of her heart. It would be a shame to waste the tickets. Maybe she should let the local thrift store put them in their silent auction. As she sat there, an idea came to her, so bold that she blushed.
On the morning of the show, Madeleine took particular care in getting ready. She fussed with her hair, wishing she had visited the hairdresser. She changed lipstick twice and spent 20 minutes deciding which scent to wear. Feeling a bit daring, she chose a sleeveless red dress with a black-and-gold jacket. It was one of George’s favourite outfits.
Madeleine took an early train because she needed at least an hour to do what she planned to do before the show started. However, the Sunday afternoon pedestrian traffic in front of the theatre was sparse. Madeleine was beginning to fret. As yet, she had not seen anyone she felt she could approach.
Finally, she saw a young couple walking towards her. The young man appeared underdressed until she saw that his coat was draped across the young woman’s shoulders. It set her to remembering how her George would insist she take his coat at the first sign of a shiver. These two smiled at each other with the secret smile only those in love have. The couple had almost passed her when she spoke.
“Hello,” she said. She loved the openness in their faces. “Would you like to go to the Stuart Mclean Christmas show this afternoon?” She decided not to tell them about her failure to find a friend who would join her. “I have extra tickets.”
As she held out the tickets to them, the young man and woman beamed at each other. “My girlfriend listens to him every Sunday. She loves his show, The Vinyl Cafe.”
He took the tickets Madeleine held out with a dignity she hadn’t seen much of recently.
“Thank you very much. How much are you asking?”
“Oh no, it’s my treat.” She couldn’t help the girlish giggle that bubbled out. “If you go in and find your seats, I’ll join you in a bit.”
Madeleine was feeling so pleased that she de- cided to sit on the bench in front of the theatre. As she adjusted her dress, her purse slipped off the bench. She reached over to pick it up but a warm voice said, “Allow me, missus.” Her heart fluttered in fright as she looked into the face of a man. He was too thin, his coat was frayed and his shoes were badly scuffed. He was an older man. A generous shock of white hair peeked out from under the brim of a jaunty cap. A colourful scarf encircled his neck. She knew she should snatch the purse out of his hand but he had such a chivalrous look that she didn’t have the heart. Instead, she invited him to the show. “It would be an honour to escort such a fine lady to the show, but before I do, I must insist on an exchange of names. My name is Arthur.” When introductions were completed, Arthur gave Madeleine his arm and together they entered the theatre. The show was as wonderfully warm and funny as she had expected. She loved watching the young couple, Mike and Annie, laugh even before Stuart Mclean got to the punchline. At the intermission, Arthur bought them all drinks and she learned more about her new friends. It was easy to continue the conversations at the Old Spaghetti Factory afterwards. As Madeleine twirled her pasta, she listened to them share their favourite parts of the show. George would have loved this, she thought. Her heart was full and she realized with surprise that she was no longer going to be able to say that she never won anything. n