Blind Luck by Scott Carter Page B

of calls were from people trying to order double-headed dildos.”
    “That’s weird, but not unlucky,” he said with a laugh he couldn’t contain.
    “Then for a week I got calls from a lab trying to give me a patient’s biopsy results.”
    “Look, that’s definitely strange, but…”
    “Think about the odds of having your phone number posted on a website that specializes in dildos and mistakenly entered into a lab by an overworked receptionist in the same month. Things like this don’t happen to normal people.”
    “True, it’s rare and darkly funny, if you ask me, but those calls don’t affect you, so you can’t say they make you unlucky.”
    “I just got a call before you buzzed that mistook me for a teen suicide hotline.”
    Dave took a moment to take in her expression. Both the strain in her eyes and worry on her face suggested she expected to get such bizarre calls.
    “What did you do?” he asked.
    “I told her she had the wrong number and that I’d look up the right number for her, but she hung up.”
    “That’s disturbing, and I’m sorry you had to take that call, but I have a surprise for you that might help take your mind off it.”
    She set the phone down. “I didn’t think you’d call, let alone come over again.”
    “Well, I did. Do you know the MC5 is coming to town?”
    “Of course.”
    “Are you going?”
    “I can’t go to concerts. I’d get trampled.”
    “This is your favourite band, right?”
    “It’s too dangerous.”
    Dave stepped closer to her and smiled. “I have VIP tickets, and I want to watch it with you.”
    “I can’t.”
    “You have to. Who else can give me the details you can?”
    “I would love to go with you, and I can’t believe you’re asking me, but…”
    The phone’s electronic buzz cut her off before she finished. Instinct told her to step back from the phone. “You have to get it,” she said, gesturing to Dave.
    “Let it go to voicemail.”
    “Your energy can save her.”
    “Save who?”
    “Please answer the phone.”
    The buzz seemed louder to both of them now.
    “You should answer your phone.”
    “I’ll go to the concert if you get it.”
    He looked at the panic in her eyes and felt compelled to do anything he could to change the expression. With a quick pivot, he answered the phone just after the fifth buzz. “Hello?”
    “Aren’t you supposed to answer faster?”
    The voice on the other end was smooth and the accent clearly Newfoundland. Dave placed the tone as late teens. “What number are you looking for?”
    “The teen suicide hotline.”
    “I’m sorry, but this isn’t.
    “What’s your name?” the voice asked.
    Dave looked at Amy, who appeared reassured just by having him on the phone. “Dave.”
    “Will you talk to me, Dave?”
    “I’m not a counsellor. This is a private number.”
    “You’re going to be the last person I talk to.”
    Dave took a breath, put the phone in his other hand and wiped the sweat from the hand that just held the phone on his pants. He looked again at Amy and she mouthed, “Please.”
    “Who am I talking with?” he asked the voice on the other end.
    “Cole.”
    “Okay, Cole. How old are you?”
    “How old are
you?
”
    “I’m thirty-five.”
    “Seventeen.”
    “And why did you call this number, Cole?”
    “Because I’m tired of hating myself.”
    “Can you guess what I’m going to ask next?”
    “I’m gay.”
    “And?”
    “What do you mean ‘and’? I’m living a curse.”
    For the first time, Cole was aggressive, so Dave matched the tone. “I mean it’s not a big deal to be gay, and it’s certainly not a curse.”
    “Tell that to my parents.”
    Reflex told him to tell the teen to tell his parents to go fuck themselves, but reason warned that the situation demanded a more measured response. “Your parents are hard on you?”
    “My dad wants to take me to a strip club in Montreal for my birthday next week.”
    “Tell him you’re not interested.”
    “He wants