Lucky Number 10

James Nathan

Ten. His lucky number, he had been told by the psychic in the tiny brightly coloured Moroccan café around the corner in Covent Garden was the number ten. It was late afternoon but already dark as the winter night drew in. But he did not mind as China Town was so brightly lit, he could still see the smiles in the stranger’s eyes as they passed. There was just enough time to stop for something to eat before going to the theatre, and he knew the perfect place on the corner. A big glass corner where he would eat with chopsticks and watch the world go by. It began to snow, every flake catching the warm glow of the lantern light. He smiled with his eyes.

When he arrived at the restaurant, they were busier than normal and the lady on the door fiercely told him that he could not sit along the bar in the window as he normally did. Busiest night of the year so far, it’s nearly Christmas, go to table number ten they have room there. He could find somewhere else, but time was running short so sitting with strangers would have to do. He could bury himself in his book and eat quickly.

Table number ten only had one stranger on it. He asked if he would mind sharing his table for a short time. It was not a problem as they wouldn’t be staying long either. Food ordered, and a hot tea to chase away the sharp cold in his fingertips. The stranger was reading something on his phone, it must have been something from someone dear as his smile really did go all the way up to his eyes. Food came for them both in a hurried fashion, the stranger asked for a fork, but this restaurant did not have such a thing. He looked a little unsure, so help was offered. And gratefully received. A chopstick lesson began, and the student quickly warmed to the teacher, books and phones aside and conversations about China Town in the snow became more animated and more tea ordered.

He suddenly realised that he had been enjoying himself and time had flown, he had only ten minutes to get to the theatre. He would have to run. The stranger had gone to the bathroom, he decided to leave the warm conversation as a happy memory, pay on his way out and make a run for the show.

As he ran through the cobbled London streets, snow building up along the curb side he felt a warm glow that did not come from the tea alone but the warm, smiling eyes of a stranger he shared a table with. He rounded the corner and dazzled by the bright bulbs signalling the theatres and their shows, fumbled for his ticket and hurried through the door. The usher looking at his ticket, directing him to row J, seat number eleven. As he sat down, removing layers of coat and scarf, he chuckled to himself. Table number ten, row number ten, but seat number ten would have been too serendipitous. Maybe number ten was not his lucky number after all. Seat number ten was empty though, perhaps sit in and see if his luck changed?

Just then the lights flashed signalling the show about to start, one last person entered the end of his row and sat in seat number ten. The stranger he had taught how to eat with chopsticks smiled at him as he sat down . . . “number ten, my lucky number” the stranger said and they both shared the feeling, in the warmth of the theatre as it snowed outside, that ten was a very lucky number after all.

Did you have previous associations with this number before making this work?

I did not have a previous connection to this number. I usually resonate more with odd numbers so when I saw I had a even number, I decided not to overthink and just let something flow. I really enjoy writing fiction and used to get quite stuck in my head, however earlier this year I was lucky enough to attend a free-writing workshop in the world of zoom so really drew on that experience and hopefully the outcome is something people enjoy.

What inspired you to make this piece?

My inspiration for this piece was really where I allowed my imagination to go, I wanted for a brief moment to live within the story and a world where things like this chance encounter were still possible now we live in what can be such an isolated world. It was the freedom of a moment just beyond our fingertips, and a chance to share a little queer happiness.

Aside from a response to this number, what does the work say to you now that you've made it?

Now the piece is finished, looking back at it, I think what stands out to me is just hope. Hope that we can be bigger than the moment we're in, hope that we will meet strangers again and the opportunity for first moments in what ever capacity. And hopefully more than ten :)

James Nathan, he/him. Would like to leave the world a better place than I found it. Aspiring writer, confirmed dreamer!