Jackpot Summer, page 18
“That’s macabre,” Sophie said, widening her eyes. “Oh, wait a second. I get it. Double eww.”
“Do you think Dad is using protection? And do we know who he’s shtupping?” Laura’s voice was practically a whisper.
“Based on our walk around the property, it may be more than one woman,” Sophie said. “One of us has to talk to Dad and make sure he’s being careful.”
“Matthew.” All three said his name at once.
Their older brother was the only option. Laura handled Leo’s medical care but she would never broach this topic with him. Sophie was too skittish. She got her period for the first time at Maizy Mandel’s bat mitzvah and had to ask Leo to stop at a drugstore on the way home, an awkward experience neither of them wished to relive. It was understood that Leo didn’t see Noah as an authority figure, on a medical matter or otherwise.
“I miss him,” Noah said.
“Me too,” Sophie said.
“He would find this Viagra thing very funny. Disturbing, but funny,” Laura said. She had left the restaurant and was standing on a street brightly lit by a kaleidoscope of neon billboards. Noah’s hangover was taking a second beating. “Let’s text him.”
Noah scrolled through his phone looking for the most recent Fantastic Foursome exchange. It had been a whopping two months since any of them used the group chat. Noah was in touch with his sisters on a separate thread. Sophie had named it JJ, for Jackpot Jacobsons.
“Yikes,” Sophie said, eyeing her phone.
“How did we not realize Matthew would feel left out? Even if Dad isn’t upset, I know Mom would be furious at the three of us,” Noah said.
“It’s not just about Matthew and Beth. There’s also Austin to consider,” Laura said. “Our nephew.”
“I hope it’s not too late to undo the damage.” Sophie’s eyes watered as she spoke and Noah handed her a tissue.
“I feel like a jerk saying this, but Doug and I just spent nearly half of the winnings on the new house,” Laura said, rubbing her temples. “We thought it was a good investment, but now there’s not that much cash left over…”
Doug’s face appeared in the frame next to Laura’s. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.
Noah assumed he had enough money to split the pot in fourths, but he hadn’t really been keeping track of what he was spending. He too had dropped a hefty chunk of change to buy a home. He’d been giving handouts left and right.
“So are we doing this?” Sophie asked. “But do you think Matthew might be insulted? Too little, too late? Insult to injury? We should have called him right away after he texted us. Instead, we took the easy way out.”
Noah hadn’t thought of that. Had they let things get to a point where it would be impossible to make things up to their brother?
“We’ll just be very clear about our reasoning,” Laura said. “It’s not that we were resentful about how they acted when we bought the tickets even if we— Well at least I…thought they were being haughty. We want our family to share this experience together. Which is the truth.”
“Ditto on feeling annoyed about them acting haughty. But guys, I have to admit something. It wasn’t even Matthew who called me Dopey Sophie. It was his friend Ricky—the kid who used to do the magic shows with him. I was feeling guilty about Matthew and thinking back to that day when we were all playing Monopoly, and I remembered that Ricky called me dopey and I was just pissed Matthew didn’t stand up for me.” Sophie cracked a wry smile. “It all sounds so petty now.”
“I think we’re all pretty stuck in our childhood ways when it comes to the way we interact,” Laura said.
Noah agreed. He still felt the urge to pull his sisters’ hair when they pissed him off.
“Speaking of childhood, think we can make the money conditional on Matthew and Beth spending a portion of it on fun stuff for Austin?” Sophie asked.
“Much as I’d love to, parents don’t really love other parents telling them how to raise their kids,” Laura said.
But that wouldn’t stop Noah from stealing Austin away for a Disney weekend, he thought, hoping he’d be trusted to take the kid to a crowded park after the Fantasy Island fiasco.
“I hate to be the party pooper,” Doug said. “But this will surely have negative tax implications. I still think it’s the right move, just putting that out there.”
“Man, can I just say Dad really dropped the ball with this whole lottery thing? He might have mentioned that back when we won,” Sophie said. “It’s like he stopped caring once we were too old to get allowance.”
“Did we even tell Dad we were thinking of cutting Matthew in?” Noah asked. He, for one, was ready to make the call to his brother today, just as soon as he confirmed he was still liquid enough to write that check.
“We’re all going to be together for Thanksgiving at my house. Let’s tell Matthew and Beth we want to share the winnings with them at dinner next week. We should do it in person. And Matthew can speak to Dad face-to-face about—” Laura stopped.
“The boner pills,” Sophie said.
“I like this plan.” Noah’s full faculties were returning. He was grateful to focus on reuniting with Matthew rather than on Becky, yet another person trying to take advantage of him. “Konnichiwa.”
“That means hello,” Laura said. “You mean ‘sayonara.’ ”
“Close enough,” Noah said. It was fine to be “close enough” when it came to speaking in a foreign language, but close enough was never okay when it came to his siblings.
8
Matthew
The offices of Meyer, Packer & Driscoll were unusually quiet for a midday morning in fall. Normally the hallways were abuzz with the squeaky wheels of hand trucks piled with cartons of discovery, copy machines rumbling overtime and the constant dinging of email. Today it was nearly as quiet as Christmas. The lawyers and support staff were far too anxious to make noise. On a higher floor, the partnership committee was meeting to decide which associates, after eight years of indentured servitude, would be promoted to junior partner and which junior partners, the rank held by Matthew and Beth, would be promoted to full-equity partners.
“I’m so nervous,” Beth said, making a meal of her fingernails as she paced Matthew’s office.
“Me too,” he said, though his reason for being nervous was diametrically opposed to Beth’s. She was desperate to make equity partner, while he was terrified of it. They were already paid handsomely as junior partners, though the pay was less impressive on an hourly basis (divide anything by twenty-four and it’s less grand). But their incomes were nothing compared to what they would make as equity partners, sharing a slice of the firm’s profit pie. They both had excellent chances of promotion after years of glowing annual reviews and hearty client acquisition. But nothing was for certain until the partnership committee summoned you to the gleaming conference room on the twenty-eighth floor and put a glass of champagne in your hand.
Matthew believed they would both get promoted, after which there would be no turning back. It was simply too much money. Too much prestige. Nobody walked away from an opportunity like that. He felt like a prisoner facing the parole board, unsure whether to plead his case or ask to stay in.
“We’re both going to get it,” Beth said, trying to manifest their destiny. “There’s literally no chance we won’t. We’re both whales. No, we’re sharks. We’re—”
“Octopi?” Matthew said.
“Sure, yes, we’re octopi.” Beth’s face softened and a small laugh escaped her lips. She took a seat in the leather wingback opposite Matthew’s desk. “Is it octupi or octopusses? Austin would know.”
Matthew pictured their son at home. He was off from school the entire week for Thanksgiving break, overseen by a rotating cast of babysitters and tutors. How Matthew wished he had the freedom to stay with him, especially during a week when Austin wasn’t being ferried between his chess tutor, piano teacher and robotics class on account of the holiday. His gaze landed on the family photo positioned next to his monitor. It showed the three of them beaming in a giant auditorium, Austin clutching a chess trophy bigger than him. In the picture, taken just a year ago, Austin’s hair was closely cropped. Now it was floppy and constantly needed to be pushed out of his eyes. Austin resisted their persistent suggestions of a haircut until they finally coaxed out of him that long hair was “the style.” It was the first time either of them could recall him caring about fitting in. Matthew worried Beth would try to squash this change, but she said, “Long hair it is,” and asked if he wanted any new clothes. He turned over a wish list that included sports jerseys and a pair of coveted sneakers for which Beth had to hire a “line waiter” to stand outside the Nike store for six hours.
The maternal indulgence initially charmed Matthew. He liked that Beth was supporting nonacademic interests, even if $150 sneakers for a kid whose feet were still growing rubbed him the wrong way. Over time, he realized that Beth saw Austin’s newfound susceptibility to peer pressure as just another achievement—See how he’s brilliant and developing socially appropriately! That’s not a combo you find every day!
“I’m curious to see Laura’s new place,” Matthew said, pivoting away from partner talk. Laura and Doug were hosting Thanksgiving dinner in Franklin Lakes. Emma and Hannah told Austin about the putt-putt course and the half basketball court at their new house.
“Me too. I asked Laura what I can bring, but she said just ourselves.” Beth pulled a face. “She hired a chef, obviously.”
“Well, that makes things easy,” Matthew said. He and Beth rarely spoke of his siblings and their lottery win. They were too drained after work to talk about anything substantive, including Matthew admitting to Beth that he hated his job. That he sometimes fantasized about a scandal bringing down the whole firm (but leaving them unscathed) or a fire where no one got hurt but all the client files got destroyed. But he never confessed. They needed his income to support their lifestyle. Neither he nor Beth were overly materialistic—by New York City standards—but going backward was never easy. Beth signed on to marry a corporate lawyer. A corporate lawyer she’d formed from whole cloth. It wasn’t fair for him to bait and switch.
“You know they love you,” Beth said.
“I do. My last annual review was probably my best yet. Bringing over the Anderson business was huge. Plus I put in a good word for Watson’s kid at Dalton.” Matthew leaned back in his chair and let his eyes blink shut for longer than a normal beat. Had that all happened within the past year? For reasons he couldn’t fully comprehend, time felt bifurcated between pre- and post-Powerball. It moved differently. Was it how little his cell phone dinged with messages on the Fantastic Foursome thread? Was it knowing that by abstaining from the lottery, he missed his chance to leave this rat-race life and spend more time with his son? Or that July Fourth weekend would hereafter be remembered for his siblings’ lottery win, and not the weekend they mourned their mother?
“I’m not talking about the partnership committee,” Beth said, taking the pencil from him. “I’m talking about your siblings. They love you very much and I hope you know that.”
“Of course I do,” Matthew said, perhaps a bit too defensively.
“You just haven’t been yourself since the Powerball. I think from what your siblings see of our lives, they can’t imagine that we want for anything. We have a gorgeous apartment, Austin’s in one of the finest—and most expensive—private schools in the country. That place we rented at the shore was out of a movie. I wear stuff like this—” She paused to pull at her sweater and Matthew noticed the designer logo finely woven into the pattern.
Matthew was stunned. Normally he defended his siblings to Beth, not the other way around. He had been mopey, but he thought he’d done a good job concealing it from his wife and son. The Powerball changed him, but it wasn’t in the way Beth thought. It brought into stark relief feelings he’d been hiding from her and, to a lesser extent, from himself. He shuddered to think of her reaction if he admitted that climbing the corporate ladder was making him sick, that he’d prefer to scurry down from his midlevel rung and never enter their office building again.
As for his family, Matthew didn’t doubt his siblings loved him. If anything, it was his own fault for not being honest with them about his desire to leave his job and spend more time with his son. He’d done nothing to dispel the notion that he lived to work. It was true he already had the finer things in life and then some. On the other hand, when he sent the group text suggesting that his cash might have bought the winning ticket, none of them even called to suss out what he meant. Their mother’s passing had already reduced the frequency with which they saw each other. The lottery was like a second nail in her coffin.
“Your siblings realized that even if we had won, we’d keep doing exactly what we’re doing,” Beth said.
Matthew felt the roof of his mouth turn to sandpaper. His wife didn’t know him at all.
“Besides, I know I’m not the easiest to be around. They love you, but they tolerate me. If I’m being honest, I’m jealous when I’m around your family. There’s so much camaraderie that I never had. I didn’t have brothers or sisters, and you know how checked out my parents were. Watching you guys pack up the house together was hard. It seemed like every item had a funny story behind it or a cute memory. You guys were cracking up over a Custard Hut receipt. I’ve never seen people so excited to find old beach badges. Part of what drew me to you was that you came from this big, boisterous family and then I ended up being envious of it.”
Matthew’s head cocked so dramatically his ear practically hit his shoulder. This was the most vulnerable version of Beth he could recall. He took a swig of water from a glass bottle and felt the constriction in his throat ease up. “I appreciate you saying that. There are a lot of us Jacobsons. And not a lot of Moores. I realize my family has been this continual presence, between the holidays, the birthdays, the shore house.”
“Exactly. But that’s a good thing. In fact—” Beth put her hand on his desk. She twisted the gold band on her middle finger around to reveal a gigantic blue stone set amidst smaller, colorful gems. “I took this from the house that weekend. It was your mother’s. It’s just some silly piece of costume jewelry she probably bought on Long Beach Boulevard. I don’t know why I took it. I guess I liked the idea of having a piece of her, and maybe more than that. It’s a memory of you guys reminiscing.”
Matthew was again surprised. Beth was not typically sentimental.
“Some woman in my barre class asked if it was vintage Bulgari!”
Matthew’s office phone rang and he scooped it up. “Matthew Jacobson.”
Beth flew to the edge of her seat. The family conversation was kaput.
“Yes, I can come up now. I’ve got Beth in my office…Oh, good news for both of us…Well, that’s great to hear. We’ll be right there.” He placed the phone on its cradle. Beth was already on his side of the desk, squealing.
“We did it!” She grabbed his hands and squeezed them tightly. “Our dreams have come true!”
* * *
—
Matthew sat on his living room sofa and stared out the floor-to-ceiling glass, looking directly into another glass cube apartment like his own. His eyes traveled from top to bottom of the neighboring building, watching the residents mill about. Some were sitting opposite wall-mounted, flat-screen TVs watching the news or football, others sipped wine while staring down at their phones. These so-called fishbowl buildings were controversial. Unless you drew the curtains and blocked the view, the whole reason you paid a premium for the apartment, your life was available for public consumption. But that only meant physical actions, the stuff you chose to show the world. For Matthew, that meant the magazine in his hand he wasn’t reading, the show he wasn’t watching and the smile he put on his face each time Beth walked by and said something about their promotions. His inner turmoil was hidden in plain sight. It was why he never bothered to look up Samantha Siegel on social media, though he was curious how his high school crush had turned out. He knew he’d only be treated to the parts she wanted to share, and that would mean knowing nothing about the real her.
Beth appeared at his side, sipping from a tumbler of whiskey with a giant, hissing ice cube. He drew up the corners of his mouth into another forced smile and clinked his water glass against hers. “Cheers,” he said, remembering too late that toasting with water was bad luck. There was no point in pretending to be anything but thrilled. He’d consigned his life to the devil, a devil disguised as a law firm spread across ten floors in a Manhattan skyscraper.
“I feel like we should celebrate,” Beth said. “Let’s go out for dinner.”
Matthew studied his wife, radiant in a sleek dress and high heels with sexy red soles that gave him a jolt when she crossed her toned legs. His mother’s ring sparkled on one hand, her giant engagement ring shone on the other.
“Why not?” he said. He held back a snarky comment about this being the last time they might have time to go for a leisurely dinner that wasn’t client-related. “I’ll get Austin.”
“Hey, bud,” Matthew said as he pushed open the door to Austin’s room. He wondered if Austin heard it the way it sounded in his head, like the greeting of a TV sitcom dad.
“Hey,” Austin said. He was nestled in a bean bag chair, engrossed in his phone, which he immediately put facedown. Matthew wondered what he could be hiding. Maybe a girl? A boy?
“Mom and I want us all to go out for a family dinner to celebrate our promotions to equity partner.” Now Matthew really hated the way he sounded. He’d rather be a cheesy sitcom dad than a corporate robot.
