You have no items in your cart. Want to get some nice things?
Go shoppingBy John Brantingham
“Chances Are” was selected for Litro’s The Odds Are In shortlist through a blind editorial process. Shortly after submission, we were informed that its author, John Brantingham, had passed away. We publish the story as it was chosen — on its own merit — and in recognition of the voice behind it.
“Chances Are” is a story that understands how much can sit inside a single moment — and how quietly that weight can shift.

1
Odds your boyfriend is real: 22%. You figure, you’re being catfished again. Just in case you wore your lucky Hello Kitty socks and lucky Hawaiian vans. Here comes Mr. Wonderful in a tan suit, sitting across from you. You wish you’d worn the lucky underwear too.
Peter says, “Nice socks.”
You say, “Nice tie.” You fist it so to pull him close. “I can’t believe you’re not AI.”
He says, “I can’t believe you’re not some Russian hacker.”
You take a sip of your Long Island ice tea to settle your nerves and think, Chance of a blackout tonight: 63%.
2
Chances of a blackout tonight: 63%. The blizzard has turned icepolcalyps, but it’s okay. Peter’s on the couch not the road.
“I can’t believe I’m stuck here and not in L.A. I’m going to be fired if I lose the Brugman account.”
You stick your finger into his belly button. “We could live off my wages until you get another job.”
He pulls your finger out of him. “I’m not sponging off a woman.”
When you say, “You can be my kept man,” his face sours with disgust at the idea.
You think the chances your relationship survives: 18%.
3
Chances your relationship survives: 18%. You’re working more and more these days; the joys of writing copy for the company are lessening and lessening. The only thing worse than having this job would be losing it. Peter used to hate the late nights. The only thing worse than that is now he doesn’t seem to care. Tonight, he’s left some spaghetti in the pot and a post-it that reads, “Your half of the rent was due three days ago.” You stare at it for 28 seconds counting each one to calm yourself because the odds of you getting expelled: 72%.
4
Odds of you getting expelled: 72%. Now that you’re back in college, that kind of thing matters, but the writing world expelled you, and now Peter might expel you. Why should college be any different, but you have a financial aid officer. She seems nice.
After your meeting, you’re sitting on a bench looking out at the rain, and Peter texts you: “I think I can cover your tuition for at least the first semester.”
“You’d do that?”
“In a heartbeat.”
You start to cry. You can’t help it. With the rain and tears, prob. city floods this month: 41%.
5
Prob city floods this month: 41%. The rain is coming down, and you’re pregnant, and Peter is out in L.A. Worse somehow, you’ve read the copy from your old company; it’s stilted and stupid and written badly. You’ve been replaced by AI, clearly. Peter has replaced you with video games and travel. Your friends have all replaced you with kids and spouses. Now you’re in real estate, and you wonder if a computer will start doing your job. In your darkest moments, you think Peter will want a nanny to raise your baby. Odds your job is automated: 94%.
6
Odds your job is automated: 94%. Odds that your old company is going out of business because of it: 100%. You smile from schadenfreude.
Peter asks, “What’s got you in such a good mood.”
You lie, “Just you and the baby and everything.”
Peter sits next to you, kisses Mindy on the head. “Your mom is right, you know. We should get married. Insurance. Social norms. All that shit.”
“I might swoon.”
“You know I’m not good with words.”
You wonder what he’d say if he were good with words. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Odds your boyfriend is real: 22%.
John Brantingham was Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks’ first poet laureate. His work has been featured in hundreds of magazines, Writers Almanac and The Best Small Fictions 2016. He has nineteen books of poetry and fiction including his latest, Life: Orange to Pear (Bamboo Dart Press). He teaches at Mt. San Antonio College.



