Rolling in the Deep

by Rebecca Rogers Maher

  “What about you?” I ask him. “Were you happy?”

  He shakes his head. “You know what? No. I wasn’t.”

  “I always thought you two got along great.”

  “Yeah, well, we did. Like friends, you know what I mean? We took care of the girls together, watched TV at night. Stopped having sex almost entirely, but that’s a different story.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Sorry, man.”

  “Yeah, well.”

  “How about now? Any prospects now that you’re single?”

  Tony shakes his head. “Nah, not really. Not yet anyway. We can’t all be as lucky as you.”

  I wince, and Tony immediately makes a face. “Shit. Sorry I said that.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “You think she’s going to call eventually? I mean, once things settle down a little. Maybe you two could, you know, figure something out.”

  I stand and start clearing dishes. It’s not a conversation I can handle right now. “I doubt it, Tony. Seriously.”

  He nods, regarding me carefully. “Don’t give up yet, brother.”

  “I’m not giving up, but—”

  “No, Ray. Really. I mean it. Don’t get passive like I did. Don’t just settle. You want to be with Holly?”

  “Of course I do, but—”

  “Then go for it, man. Find a way.”

  Chapter 17

  Holly

  I wake up in the morning to an empty house. I should be hearing Drew in the living room now, talking to his toys as he always does on weekday mornings. He’s been an early riser since he was a baby, but since he learned how to tell time, he’s decided to let me sleep until at least six o’clock before he sneaks into my bed for a snuggle.

  “To feel your morning skin,” he says. He likes to rest his cheek against my belly—the soft part where the stretch marks are. “I put those there,” he tells me, proudly.

  But he’s not here today. He’s in New Paltz with Brett and Emma. In protective custody, away from me.

  I’ve replayed the argument with Brett maybe a hundred times over the past two days. He called me an unfit mother, and how could I defend myself against that? He’s right. I didn’t protect our son. And now I can’t leave home without another news van following me. The phone is ringing off the hook with calls for interviews.

  I don’t want any part of it. All I want to do is hide out in my apartment until it all goes away.

  I thought we were done with the media part of this. Before the story came out in the Record and then got picked up by national outlets, I felt I’d handled it well. That I’d escaped undue attention. And I would have, too, if it weren’t for Ray.

  Not that it’s his fault. All he did was try to be close to me, to get to know me. And I let him in, and then tossed him away.

  How must that have felt to him, to be cast aside like that? He said he understood, that he knew I needed to take care of Drew. But how will he feel a week from now, when I still can’t call?

  I promised Brett that I would stay away from Ray indefinitely. It made me sick to do it, but it was the only way to get him to agree that I could see Drew tomorrow.

  He’s holding me hostage—I know that. I know I shouldn’t have let him take Drew. But I was terrified, thinking I had placed Drew in harm’s way. I let myself be seen in public with Ray, and I was ashamed—of wanting him so much that I wasn’t thinking clearly, of prioritizing my own desires over Drew’s safety. I panicked and immediately assumed that Drew would be better off in Emma’s hands than in my own.

  Maybe he is. I don’t know.

  All I know is that I want my son back. And I don’t know how to make that happen without hurting him more.

  The last time Brett and I had a flare-up of fighting, Drew suddenly couldn’t sleep at night. He’d lie in bed crying, worried about how he would get through school without any rest. It settled down as soon as Brett and I called a truce.

  That time, too, the way I achieved it was by caving in. Apologizing. Taking all the blame. I don’t even remember what I was supposed to have done wrong, but it was nauseating watching the smug smile spread over Brett’s face. He’d won, and he knew it. Just like he’s won now.

  I can’t see Ray. Not anytime soon, and maybe not ever.

  I need to call a lawyer and get some advice about what to do. I can’t let myself be stuck here, fearing what’s at the end of every path. I need to do something, the right thing—whatever that is—and quickly.

  Three days ago I began to think that everything might turn out okay. That I could provide for my son, that maybe I could be with Ray. That I could be happy.

  I can’t believe I was such a fool. No one can be that lucky. To win the lottery and then to fall in love? It was selfish, thinking I deserved so much.

  But of course I didn’t deserve it. No one deserves that much bounty. It’s naïve to think the world operates on some sort of giant scale of justice, constantly altering itself to punish the wicked and reward the virtuous. Good and bad things happen to everyone, and most of it is random.

  What is it they say at Drew’s school? You get what you get and you don’t get upset.

  I understand the first part. The second part is a little harder to swallow.

  We’d only just started, Ray and me. There could have been something between us. Hell, there already is something. But I can’t find out where it could go. I have to walk away. I love him, goddamnit, and I have to walk away from him.

  I kick the covers off and get out of bed. There’s no point lying here feeling sorry for myself. There are millions of people in the world who have it much worse than I do, and coincidentally, I have millions of dollars in my bank account. It’s time to start thinking about how to use it.

  The first thing I need to do is call my lawyer and figure out a plan. There has to be a way out of this.

  The coffeepot is just finished percolating when I hear a knock at the door. I move silently over to the peephole—a necessary precaution now, when anyone could show up wanting something.

  “Beth?”

  “Open the door, dude! I’m freezing my ass off.”

  I swing the door open. “What are you doing here?”

  “Figured the vultures wouldn’t be parked outside this early. Take a shower. We’re going out.”

  “What?”

  She hands me a box of glazed marble crullers from my favorite donut shop. “Eat one of these, drink your coffee, and then take a shower. And be quick about it, before all the news people show up.”

  I stand still for a minute, but then I get to it. Because when Beth gets commanding like this, there’s no arguing with her. The lawyer’s office doesn’t open for two hours anyway. I can call from the road. I bring Beth a coffee and step into the shower.

  When I come out, she hands me a to-go cup, and a donut in a Tupperware container. “Let’s roll.”

  “Where are we going?”

  I barely have time to grab my keys before she ushers me out the door.

  “You’re taking me to the spa.”

  “I am?”

  She points to her car, and I get in.

  “Haven’t you always wanted to go to the spa at Mohonk? It’s so fucking expensive it’s ridiculous! And now you’re gonna take me there and we’re both getting the works.” She eyes me sideways as she throws the car into gear. “Don’t give me that look, Holly. I know the money’s come in by now. And you haven’t spent a cent of it yet, have you?”

  “No, but—”

  “You haven’t even left the house since Brett took Drew, I’m betting.”

  “Well, no—”

  “Okay, then. What’s it going to be? Swedish massage? Facial? Pedicure? Or all three? I’m thinking all three. Oh, and I checked the website. They have an outdoor mineral pool. We’re totally going in that. You can buy a bathing suit there. The one you have is shitty.”

  “Beth.”

  “Don’t even try to argue. We should have lunch, too. And maybe, you know, go for a
hike or something.”

  I have to laugh. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Oh, totally.” She smiles at me. “And you, my dear, are done moping. You hear me?”

  “I’m not—”

  She rolls her eyes. “Don’t even. You’re going to spend some money today. On yourself, I might add, before you start trying to give it all away. Okay?”

  “But—”

  “Just shut up and enjoy the scenery. I’m taking care of you today, and you’re going to let me. Also, you’re going to pay for all of it.”

  She pats my leg, and smiles. I take out my donut.

  —

  It’s not even noon and already I’ve been rubbed, oiled, steamed, and buffed within an inch of my life. Rain-forest sounds mingle gently with mandolins and flutes on invisible speakers, and the patio where we sit smells like a sweet mix of rosemary and ginger.

  It’s a far cry from Cogmans, that much is certain. Not just the sensory experience, but the people. The women flanking Beth and me look like preserved museum pieces—their skin and nails flawless, their hair perfectly highlighted. A forty-something lady to our right is chatting quietly with her friend over china cups of green tea.

  “I’m telling you, I don’t want to fire her. I really don’t. But if she keeps putting the juice glasses in the wineglass cabinet…I mean, come on. I don’t think I have a choice.”

  The friend nods sympathetically. “No, you don’t. Isn’t Sebastian complaining that she’s messing up his toys, too?”

  “Oh, if it were up to him, Maria would be gone already.” The lady giggles. “He hides melted chocolate under his pillow just to screw with her.”

  “That little scamp! Did he like Turks and Caicos? Must have been nice getting out of town.”

  “Ugh.” The lady stretches out her tan, toned legs. “You wouldn’t believe how boring it was down there. Seriously, never again. I mean, how many times can you go to the beach? And it was crawling with people. Literally crawling. Listen, next year for spring break, it’s going to be Costa Rica. We’re looking at a house there, did I tell you?”

  “Ooh.” The friend sets down her tea and leans in. “Really?”

  “Gorgeous. Five rooms, right on the water. I mean, we’ll have to hire a staff for upkeep, obviously. But at least we’ll have some privacy. If I can get Philip off his phone for five minutes, it might even be fun.”

  “You deserve fun, Christine.”

  “That is the truth. With all I do? I need a place to get away.”

  Beth clears her throat loudly and stands. “Okay, then. Holly, mineral pool?”

  “Yes, please.” I rise and get out of there as fast as I can.

  Beth is laughing before she even pushes through the door. “What. The actual fuck.”

  “Jesus, you said it.” I head straight for the outdoor hot tub, set deep in a wide expanse of smooth stone and surrounded by the foothills of the Catskills. It’s empty this early in the day, thank goodness. I take off my robe and step into the churning water.

  Beth whistles from the heated floor of the patio. “Girl, you look hot in that bathing suit.”

  “Oh, please.” I smirk, trying to stay in the spirit of light jokiness Beth is trying so hard to maintain, and sink down lower in the water, letting the bubbles cover me. “I mean, it’s not like the one I wore in Turks and Caicos, but still.”

  Beth laughs. “Where the hell is Turks and Caicos anyway? The Caribbean?”

  “Who knows? There’s probably a secret passageway that only rich people know about. It leaves from, like, Saks Fifth Avenue or something.”

  “I hate to break it to you, darling, but you’re one of those rich people now.” Beth comes over and lowers herself down into the pool. “Not that I’m complaining. As long as you take me here every three or four weeks.”

  “I don’t know.” I bat steam away from her face and tilt my chin toward the indoor porch where the other ladies sit. “If we keep coming here, will we turn into them?”

  Beth shrugs. “Worth the risk.”

  “They don’t seem particularly happy.”

  Beth closes her eyes. “Nope.”

  “Isn’t money supposed to take all your troubles away?”

  “Oh, for sure.”

  I push her shoulder. “Don’t make fun of me.”

  “I would never. I’ll never make fun of you ever again as long as you keep bringing me to the spa. Now shut it for a few minutes and let me enjoy some peace and serenity.”

  “You’re kind of an asshole, Beth.”

  She smiles. “Totally.”

  I sit back against the jets and let the force of water pummel the muscles in my back. I cried during the massage today, which the therapist said was normal.

  “People lock their feelings up in their bodies, and when I work on them, it kind of shakes everything loose.”

  All I know is that it was embarrassing. Every time I sit still today, that I’m not distracted by Beth’s chatting, I can’t help it—my eyes leak like a faucet.

  Beth turns toward me and leans her elbow against the side of the pool. “You okay over there, chica?”

  I laugh, and shake my head, and a little sob comes out.

  “Oh, man.” She scoots closer and rests her hand on my shoulder. “What is it—Drew? Ray? Or all of it.”

  “All of it.” I rub my eyes, which are filling fast with chlorine.

  Beth sits there, watching me, for what soon starts to feel like a very long time.

  “What?” I ask her.

  She just presses her lips together and shakes her head. “Nothing.”

  “No, Beth, what?” I wipe a tear off my face, which doesn’t help because my hands are wet, too. “What are you thinking?”

  “I promised myself I wouldn’t say anything.”

  I give her a look. “As if.”

  “What? I can keep my thoughts to myself.”

  “Okay, then.” I tap the side of the pool and start counting in my head. One…two…three…

  “It’s just that, Holly,”—she never makes it past three—“are you really going to just lie down and take it?”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You know what it means!” She makes an exasperated sound. “Drew. Brett. Are you just going to let him take your son away and not even put up a fight? Listen, when you were broke and he had money, I got it. He had power over you. But that’s not how it is anymore. You could buy and sell his ass a hundred times over, but you’re still letting him call the shots. He took Drew, and you…you let him.”

  I pull away from her and sit up on the edge of the pool. “Was that the plan, then? Get me all loosened up with massages and then tell me what a shitty job I’m doing? Thanks a lot, Beth.”

  “I’m not telling you you’re doing a shitty job, Holly. Jesus. But…hear me out, okay? Ray is in love with you.”

  I look at her sharply, and she throws both hands in the air.

  “And guess what? You love him back. And you let him go, too. Is that really okay with you? Is that how this is going to play out?”

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell her. “Drew has had enough—”

  “Oh, give me a break, Holly. Drew is not made of glass. You think he’d rather you pretend everything is hunky-dory while you’re obviously miserable? Don’t you think that’s a bit of a mind fuck? Telling him everything is okay when any idiot could see that it’s not? Little boys want their mothers to be happy. Especially your little boy. He’s smart enough to see that you’re lying to him. That you’re lying to yourself. When Brett treats you like shit and you act like it doesn’t bother you? Like it’s okay?”

  I want to get up and leave. I want to get away from her. But I’m paralyzed. Stuck here, with every word she says flying like glass straight into my heart.

  “You’re not going to like what I’m about to say, Holly. I know you don’t like any of this. But what are you teaching Drew right now, about how men
are supposed to treat women? About what women are supposed to put up with?”

  I feel like slapping her. “You think I don’t know this, Beth? Why do you think I left Brett? I don’t let him treat me like that anymore. I divorced him!”

  “Honey.” Beth’s voice gentles, and that makes it even worse. “Yes, you divorced him. Under incredible duress. You coped through all the mediations and court dates and custody arrangements, and you’ve been an amazing single mother to your son. I wish it were all over now. I wish you were done. But the fact is that a miracle happened to you—an unimaginable blessing—and Brett used that as an excuse to cut your legs out from under you. He can’t stand for you to be happy, Holly. He’ll do anything it takes to hurt you. And right now? I’m sorry, but you’re letting him.”

  I make a strangled sound. “What do you want me to do? I called my lawyer. We have a meeting this afternoon, and we’re going to talk about how to go forward, okay? Calmly. I can’t just go barreling over to Brett’s and take Drew back!”

  She nods her head. “Yes, you can!”

  I smack the side of the pool. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Actually,” Beth says, “it is that simple. You go over to Brett’s house and demand that he resume the regular custody schedule or you won’t just talk to a lawyer, you’ll find the best lawyer in the country, and take his ass to court. And sue for full custody, and fucking win.”

  “He’ll argue back. He’ll say I compromised Drew’s safety by putting him in the spotlight, and—”

  “Holly, give me a break! You won the lottery. You didn’t murder somebody. You got photographed leaving your own apartment and picking Drew up from school—that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “But I—”

  “No. Stop. You feel guilty about the money. You think you don’t deserve it. You’ve let Brett convince you that you’re a bad mother, because you’re terrified it might be true. And you’re scared to think Ray might actually be as good as he is, and you might actually have to risk being happy, but guess what? He is, and you can.”