Page 7 of Lucky Night

But every man likes options.

She flushes. Lordy that’s a roar! At the tail end of it, she hears…is that another alarm? They should leave. Run downstairs, have a drink. There was that awful fire in the Bronx a few years ago. How many dead? And that Orthodox family in Midwood. They’d left their hot plate on for the Sabbath. The children burned up in their beds. Was it four of them, five? The mother jumped out a window and survived. But did she? Could she? Jesus. You follow the rules, the weird rules to worship your God the way you’re told he demands it, and he just…he fucks you. Fucks you and takes your babies.

She pinches the towel hanging above the toilet. It’s warm. Holy global warming! This place is literally gleaming. A far cry from the bathrooms at home. Even with Trini coming once a week now, they’re gross. The entire house is grubby. Her house, her car, her body, which hasn’t been her own for years. Even now, somebody is always hanging on her, making her sticky. Ben and Natey come into her office and take her Scotch tape. Leave balled-up socks on the dining room table. She lives in a world of boy. She makes half-hearted gestures to assert her femininity, or at least create some sort of balance. Polka-dotted canisters in the kitchen. A flower-shaped pillow on the living room sofa. They take turns farting into it, shrieking with laughter.

Beasts!

Still, it’s going to be awful when they become teenagers. All surliness and excess hair. She needs to enjoy these last few years of sweetness. Eyes lighting up when they see her. Hard hugs from thin, bath-smelling arms.

She misses them suddenly. She’s pierced by it. She should have gone straight home from upstate. But Nick was so intent on having the whole night. They’ve never had a whole night before. She was surprised he wanted one.

She should text Tom. Love you, hug the boys for me, see you tomorrow. Her bag is on the floor, tossed in here during the madness of her arrival. She digs through her notebooks and magazines and finds her phone, swipes it awake, only to be shamed by a screen full of notifications. She owes calls, emails, texts to everyone. Little pieces of her attention, which she’s hoarding for herself right now. Here’s something from Charles. The subject line is all caps, that’s never good. She’ll quickly write back and say…what? Hey, Charles! So I’m crouched naked in the bathroom of a luxury hotel in Midtown, but I thought I’d respond to your question about the paperback cover.

She drops the phone back in her bag.

The madness of her arrival. Had Nick heard what she said? Surely not. He would have stopped everything to pick it apart in his relentless Nick way.

There’s a cluster of toiletries by the sink. Hand soap, lotion. A tiny sewing kit. Natey loves this kind of junk. The labels are sleek and expensive-looking, but they don’t identify the hotel. Perfect. She sweeps everything into her bag.

She wants to be out there, she meant it when she said how good it was to see him. She’d missed him. They’ve never had a whole night. She splashes water on her face before she remembers she already did that.

Scattered!

He hollers for her again, and she swells with happiness. Six years, and he’s still bellowing for you. Six years and he still looks at you the way he does. Despite the ass-divots. Despite the stupid thing you said when you saw him. Did he hear it? Surely not.

She slides open the door and steps out.

There he is, stretched out on the rumpled bed, sipping champagne, looking excessively pleased with himself. Is he handsome,in the conventional sense? In any sense? Probably not. But God, does he do it for her. He just does. The way his mouth moves when he talks. His expressive hands. How had she thought of giving him up, the time she almost gave him up? Lunacy! She loves how worked up he gets about things. How he fumes. He is passionate, enthusiastic. He has an opinion about everything.

Is he good-looking? She can’t tell. He’s simply the man she desires.

He sets his champagne glass next to her rings, which are heaped on the bedside table. He peers up at her, head cocked.

Were you renovating in there,or—

I didn’t come, she says.

Two

She blurts it, really. A notch too loud.

Excuse me?

I didn’t come. Before, when we…you know, when you did.

He opens his mouth to speak. Closes it. Frowns.

Yes you did.

No, she says. I didn’t.

What is she talking about? He pulls himself up, pushing the damn pillows out of the way.

You came, he says. You definitely came.

I didn’t. Hopeful smile. But I’d love to try again.

She moves toward the bed. He raises a hand to stop her.

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