Rolling in the Deep (9 page)

Still, I sit beside Holly, my body buzzing along every point where her skin touches mine. And I imagine working side by side with her, doing something we both love. I don’t know where to put all the things that makes me feel.

“We should talk about this later,” I say. “Right?”

Holly looks at me for a long time. Then she scoots down on the bed and pulls the covers over her head. “Right,” she says, from under the blanket.

I scoot down, too. The air inside the sheets smells full and sweet, like her. She turns into my arms.

“Want to order room service now?” I ask.

“Not hungry,” she says, and kisses me.

I know it’s escape she’s after. Another hour of avoiding reality. If we stay here under the covers we can stop time for just a little while longer.

Time doesn’t exist in this hotel. The future doesn’t exist.

Hell, money doesn’t exist—and neither do any of its responsibilities.

It’s just us, and this incinerating heat that burns everything else away. I kiss her neck, and her helpless moan spears straight through me.

I know her body better this time. I know her sensitive places. I know where to hold back a little, how to make her wait for it.

I take my time brushing my lips over the curve of her breast. She wants hard pressure on her nipple but I’ll work my way up to it this time. A soft lick. Gentle circles with my tongue. And then her whole nipple in my mouth—the tightness and texture of it, the weight. She arches into it and grabs the back of my head.

I give her what she wants, a hard suck, and press her other nipple between my fingers. God, I love how it unlocks something in her. She can’t control her own reaction. It just takes over, and she’s writhing. Gasping. I slide my hand between her legs.

She’s soaking, slippery. I slide my fingers in and drag them back wet over her clit, and all the while my tongue and teeth move over her nipple. Her clit is so swollen, a tight hard bud, and I want it in my mouth. I want to suck it until she comes, and then I want to fuck her.

I tell her so, and she goes weak in my arms. And then kisses me, and opens her legs for me, and I kneel down on the bed and lick her until she’s begging me for more.

“Please, Ray.”

I slide two curled fingers inside her and suck her clit into my mouth. I pull hard once, twice, twirling my tongue over her and fucking her with my hand.

Her arms fly out to the bed, and she’s pushing against it, pushing into me, trying to find purchase. I won’t give her any. I just suck, slowly, rhythmically, and slide another finger inside her.

“Mother of…”

She bears down against my hand. Trying to get more. It’s so fucking hot, taking her apart like this, making her want it so bad she’s shameless.

I want her without shame. I want her open, on fire, enjoying her body, wanting me, wanting this. I want her to come. I want her to come with my cock inside her.

I pull away and get the condom on as fast as I can. She is panting, her whole body shaking. I nudge her onto her hands and knees.

I know that in this position it might hurt a little, and I think that’s what she wants—to be driven out of her mind, to be taken past the point of control. But just to be sure, I ask her.

“Do you want me to fuck you like this, Holly?”

She makes a broken sound. “Yes.”

I gather her hair in my hand and pull her head back, just slightly. Just enough for her to feel it.

“Like this? From behind, hard?”

“Yes, Ray.” She pushes back toward me. I run my hand down her spine, over her lush hips, her ass. She is so fucking beautiful.

Then I find her opening and shove my cock in.

It’s not any prettier than that. It’s raw, and primal, and it isn’t gentle. I hold her hips still and fuck her hard and steady while she trembles underneath me.

And then she starts to move, to clench around my cock. She rears up and I push her toward the wall, so that we’re both on our knees. I have no range of motion from this position, so every thrust is contracted, tense. Her hands are flat against the wall, her knees spread wide. I slide my hand over her hip and down to her clit.

And then she’s shaking, and crying out, and I’m sinking. I’m falling deeper by the minute.

She comes, and her voice cracks open, and it’s like an avalanche crashing through me.

It’s over for me then.

I am well and truly lost.

The walls outside the main office are brightly decorated with quilts the students have sewn themselves. It’s a point of pride for Drew’s private school that the children use real sewing needles. They like to give their students authentic experiences, the principal says—an irony that always makes me laugh. In almost every meaningful way, the lives of the privileged children here are vigilantly protected against the vagaries of the real world.

As much as I’ve wanted Drew to have the opportunities a school like this provides, I’ve worried, too. That it’s sheltered him. Encouraged him to feel like he’s better than the kids who go to public school. Like he somehow deserves more than they do. I’ll have to guard against this more than ever now that we’ve experienced this windfall of money.

Brett says he’s already told Drew about the Powerball win. I was angry at first, because I’d wanted to tell him myself, but in a way I’m glad that he knows. It means he’s had a few days to adjust to the idea that things are going to change for us. We’ve talked about it a little over Skype already, but since I never know when Brett is listening, I’ve kept the conversation very vague.

It won’t just be Daddy’s house now where he’ll have everything he needs, and I have to admit there is some satisfaction in that for me. Shallow as it is. Brett has always known exactly how much the disparity between Drew’s homes has bothered me. He never passed up an opportunity to point out those differences. But he won’t be able to hold his lifestyle over me anymore. If anything, I’ll be the wealthier parent now.

At this time of day, the hallways are hushed and quiet. All the students are in Mandarin class, or animation—the kinds of activities I never would have dreamed of as a kid.

When I was Drew’s age, nobody was available to pick me up from school. My mom worked twelve-hour shifts at Vassar, cleaning dormitory bathrooms for minimum wage. Most days, I’d walk home from school alone. I’d make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and do my homework on my own until Mom came home.

I remember the first time I went with her to work. It was a minor holiday and she had nobody to watch me. I was eager to see where she spent her day, excited at the idea of a place where learning was taken seriously. In my class, the children who worked hard were ridiculed for caring enough to try. My mother was always telling me I just needed to keep striving, that one day I could go to a school like Vassar, where hard work and studying were celebrated.

But as I shadowed my mother that day, I saw something she hadn’t prepared me for. Something maybe she was trying not to see. She had to get through the day, after all, and always said she saw no point in dwelling on the negative.

What I saw was that she was invisible to them, this woman who scrubbed their toilets. They’d leave their trash crumpled up on the counters and floors, for Mom to clean up, and when they passed her in the hallways, they looked right through her. Like she wasn’t even there. It was almost like by denying her existence, they could pretend they didn’t actually use those toilets or create anything as commonplace as garbage. If she didn’t exist, then their own basic human weaknesses—the messes they left behind—didn’t exist either. They were above all that.

It was the first time I realized we were different from other people, that there was a whole world out there we didn’t have entry to. In fact, to the people in that other world we weren’t people at all, but infrastructure. We kept the hallways clean and the stores stocked, but otherwise? We didn’t exist.

I wasn’t ashamed of my job at Cogmans. I worked hard, and provided for my son. But the constant stress of not having enough money, that shamed me. I felt like I was only just barely keeping my head above water, that I couldn’t stop treading for even a second or I’d go under.

And so would Drew. My boy would go under with me.

As much as I’ve cursed Brett, at least his presence has given Drew a safety net. This private school, the ski resorts, the decent clothes and organic food—it all comes from Brett and Emma.

But it’s going to change now. I can give Drew that life on my own, without anyone’s help. I am the one in charge now.

That’s what money does for you. It gives you power.

You don’t realize how much until you go from not having any to having more than you could ever need.

I think of the power that Ray was considering, last night as we lay in bed at the hotel. The power to do something good in the world. The power to do something we both love.

Together
. It’s the one word he wouldn’t say, that I’m afraid to even think about.

I want to believe that it could be that easy. That you could meet someone good and true, and fall in love with him, and win the lottery, and build a life together—a thriving business, a community, a family, a dream. But that’s not the way the world is. It sets you up to believe in fantasies like that, and then it knocks you down. And makes you blame yourself for the failure.

It’s been too good with Ray. We won millions of dollars, for God’s sake. We won’t get to have each other, too. That’s not how life works. It can’t go on like this.

When I met Brett, I thought he was the one. I really believed that I loved him, that he loved me, that we would be together always.

But then it all went wrong, and I couldn’t save it. I couldn’t fix it.

It’s only a matter of time before something happens with Ray. Before he changes, or our circumstances change.

If I were stronger, I would end it now. Before either of us becomes too invested. Before we get hurt.

But it’s already too late for that. I’m hurting now. Anticipating the loss I know is coming.

I can still smell his skin. Taste his lips on mine.

Ray.

I don’t want it to end.

In the office behind me, a small group of ladies is gathered, whispering. I’ve been lost in thought, not listening, but now a word or two begins to penetrate. I hear Drew’s name and turn just in time to catch the eye of the school secretary. She colors, then smiles awkwardly and steps out into the hallway.

“Hey, Holly!” she says too brightly. “We were just…um…talking about you.” She leans in and gives me a feathery hug. “Congratulations! Oh my God, everybody’s heard. The whole school’s talk—I mean, you know, is so happy for you and Drew. Couldn’t have happened to a better family.”

I don’t say anything, because I have a feeling there’d be no stopping her even if I wanted to.

“I mean, seriously, Drew?
Such
a nice kid. Couldn’t ask for a nicer kid. I told Veronica the other day, I said, ‘Wow. Can’t they
all
be like him?’ I mean, he’s so polite. He comes to the office to pick something up for Mr. G, and he’s all
please,
and
thank you,
and you know, you don’t see much of that these days. More’s the pity, right? So I mean obviously you’re doing a great job with him. Raising him right, you know what I mean? He’ll make some girl a very lucky woman one day. Especially now, ha-ha-ha!”

I nod, and smile, which is all that seems to be required of me at the moment.

“Like I said, couldn’t happen to a nicer family. I mean, unless it was my family! Ha-ha-ha!”

“Right,” I say, and spot Drew coming down the hall. I only barely stop myself from dropping to my knees and holding my arms out. I reach out a hand instead, and he bypasses that entirely to wrap his arms around my waist. He presses his face against my belly and breathes in, and I feel his smile.

Drew.

I drop down to kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear, “I missed you, sweetheart.”

“Me too.” He brushes my hair aside and hugs me again, and then he shoulders his backpack. “Ready?”

“I’m ready.” I smile at the secretary, who has watched all this and is no doubt taking notes to share with the ladies in the office. It’s impossible to tell which tone she will choose to take—
so sweet
or
Mama’s boy
—but at the moment I couldn’t seriously give a shit. “Have a great night,” I tell her.

She rejoins her friends and they all wave. Their whispers resume before we’ve even left the building.

I throw an arm over Drew’s shoulder as we make our way across the parking lot. “How’s it going, kid?”

“Good. Guess what? I got to hold the bow today!”

“Oh wow, really?”

“Yeah! Ms. Tucker said I was ready. It sounded really screechy.”

“Did you get to play a song?”

“Yeah, it was ‘Hot Cross Buns,’ except instead of finger plucking I used the bow, and it sounded just like the song except like this.” He sings the tune in a witchy, creaking voice, and waggles his legs for good measure.

We both laugh, and he continues like this all the way to the riverfront, catching me up on his week. I’ve packed us a picnic to eat while we watch the boats. Somehow I think it will be easier to talk about the changes that are coming if we’re in a neutral place with something interesting to look at.

We drive down the hill to an open grassy area, park in a shady spot, and wrap ourselves up in sweaters. It’s heading toward evening and it will be chilly by the water.

By tonight, I know, Drew will be cranky like any normal kid, complaining about having to take a bath, begging for an extra fifteen minutes of TV time. As the days wear on I will be tired and maybe a little overwhelmed, and I may lose my temper with him, or go on Facebook when I probably should be reading with him or playing a board game. Both of us are human. We aren’t always in synchronicity with each other.

But these first few hours, every time, they are always just this way. Dreamlike. Gorgeous. If there’s one thing in my life that has gone exactly right, it is my relationship with my son. From the first moment I held Drew in my arms, he was mine. And I was his. And it was perfect.

“So,” I begin, once he has exhausted all his news from the past seven days. “Do you want to talk about the lottery?”

“Sure.” Drew sits on the bench, kicking his legs and watching a red tugboat push a giant barge up the river. “Daddy said it’s like gambling.”

“Did he?” I’m not surprised. “Do you think it is?”

“Well, Daddy says gambling is bad and people get addicted to it. But then I asked him what addicted was and he said it’s when you can’t stop doing something and I said can Mom not stop playing the lottery and he didn’t say anything. But then Emma said you only played it one time. So I don’t think you’re addicted.”

“No,” I agree, “I’m not addicted. I did win a lot of money, though.”

“How much again?”

“Eighty million dollars.”

“Wow.” Drew makes a big-eyes face. “That’s a lot, right?”

“Yes, it’s a lot.”

“How many zeroes?”

I think about that for a second. “Seven.”

“Whoa.”

“Yeah.”

We sit for a minute, watching the tugboat push heroically.

“Do you think he gets tired?” Drew asks.

“The tugboat?”

“Yeah.”

I nod, thinking about moving all that weight upriver. “I bet he does get tired, yes. It’s kind of you to think about how he feels.”

Drew shrugs. “I always do that.”

“I know. It’s something I really like about you.”

He smiles up at me. “Thanks, Mom.”

“So how should we spend all this money?”

“Hmm.” Drew taps his chin. “Let’s build a rocket ship.”

“Totally. A red one.”

“That can fly to Saturn’s rings.”

I scoot closer, and put an arm around him. It’s getting colder as the sun goes down. “Definitely.”

“Can we get a puppy? Because a rocket ship is not really possible, you know.”

“Yes, I know. A puppy is a great idea. We’ll probably move to a house that has a yard, and the puppy could play in it.”

“Really? We can really get one?” Drew draws back, incredulous. “I’ve been asking you for, like, a hundred years, and you always say no.”

“That’s because our apartment building doesn’t allow dogs.”

“Wait.” He looks concerned. “We won’t live in our apartment anymore?”

“No. We’ll buy a house.”

“But I like our apartment.”

I make a face. “It’s small, don’t you think?”

“No. It’s good. I’ve always lived there with you. Except when I was a baby and we used to live with Daddy. But that was a long time ago and I don’t remember it. But I remember living in our apartment with you. Can’t we stay there?”

My heart is beating strangely all of a sudden. I wasn’t expecting this, not at all. I thought he’d be excited about moving to a new place. “If we stay there, we can’t get a puppy.”

“Right.” He thinks hard for a moment. “So if we move, we can take all our stuff with us, though, right? We can take all my toys and everything?”

“Sure. Yes. But you can get new toys, too.”

He takes a deep breath, relieved, and completely ignores the part about new toys. “Okay. I’d like a black dog, okay? Maybe, like, this big?” He holds his hands about a foot apart. “But when it grows up it’ll be like up to my tummy, maybe?”

Eighty million dollars and all he thinks to ask for is a puppy.
I reach for a tissue in my pocket and surreptitiously blow my nose.

“Up to your tummy, sure.”

“And Mom!” His eyes light up.

“Yeah?”

“We can go to Niagara Falls now!”

I just stare at him for long moment. Then I pull him into my arms. “Yes, we can. I can’t wait, Drew.”

Over his shoulder I watch the tugboat soldiering on. Drew’s little heart drums against mine.

“I love you, teddy bear.”

He squeezes me. “I love you, too, Mommy.”

“Do you want some grapes? I brought them in the basket. And some rice chips.”

“Yes, please.”

We stay on the bench with our picnic until the sun sets, watching the gulls fly over the river.