Jackpot Summer, page 23
“So we’re seeing a museum from Paris and a college from New York and ending at the mall? You know we have those in New Jersey. We’re practically famous for them,” Doug said.
“This one has ski slopes.”
“Hm. Let’s get the check.”
* * *
—
“This…is…so…hard,” Laura managed to sputter through heavy panting.
“I know, isn’t it the best?” Beth responded effortlessly from her neighboring Peloton. Bitch wasn’t even sweating.
“Sure,” Laura said. If you enjoy getting a stress test or running from a bear, she thought. She did her best to keep up, regretting that she didn’t bring a change of clothes. But then again, she hadn’t expected a cardio session when she appeared unannounced at Beth’s office. It was Matthew’s office too, though he was at Dalton for the science fair. Austin’s class was studying climate change and he’d created a tornado simulator. Matthew had proudly shared a photo on the sibling chat earlier that morning.
With Matthew certain to be out of office, Laura seized the chance to speak to Beth, woman to woman. Unfortunately, she showed up at lunch hour, which turned out to be workout hour, which meant a trip to the law firm’s in-house gym, which meant riding a Peloton with a lack of rhythm and a dangerously high pulse.
“So what brings you to Midtown?” Beth said, cranking up the resistance dial on her bike.
Laura had a rehearsed answer. She was in the city to meet with her estate planner and just happened to be walking by. Instead, she cut to the chase. “I thought you and I should talk about Thanksgiving.”
Technically, the Jacobsons had agreed to put the ugliness of Thanksgiving behind them. Upon returning from the airport without Leo, they decided the least they could do was make peace between the four of them. The text chat was active again, but since spouses weren’t on it, Laura and Beth’s contact had been minimal.
Doug pushed her to speak to Beth in person. Laura didn’t relish in-person confrontation; she preferred to hide behind snarky humor over text. In general, apologizing wasn’t her strong suit. The closest she usually came was some version of, “I’m sorry what I said/did made you feel upset/disappointed/hurt.” In other words, a half-assed nonapology. She gave so much of herself to her family that she believed her sacrifices entitled her to this one quirk. Well, maybe she had more than one quirk. Her competitiveness with Beth. Her resentment of Emma’s independence and conversely her frustration with Hannah’s dependence. Her inability to have fun until every item on her to-do list was checked off. She wasn’t perfect, but neither was Doug! And he wasn’t always right. Except in this case, about their sister-in-law, he was. She knew she had to clear the air between them. And, yes, maybe offer a teeny, weeny, itsy, bitsy apology. Like a yellow polka-dot bikini.
“Talk about what?” Beth’s eyes were trained on the screen as she copied a jacked instructor peddling his heart out.
“I’m sorry.” Laura blurted the words out quickly, zipping her lips shut to avoid a follow-up that would void her apology.
Beth hit pause and swiveled to face Laura, who had dismounted entirely. Apologizing while cycling was an impossible feat.
“Sorry about…?”
“I was a jerk. At Thanksgiving. You were right to be upset about us cutting Matthew in months after the win. We’ve always prided ourselves on being such a tight family, but since my mom died, we’ve definitely had times where we’ve lost our way. And I don’t blame you for thinking it was the video that pushed us to our decision, but I swear it wasn’t.”
Beth was quiet. Her comfort with silence probably made her an effective negotiator for her clients. Laura found even a momentary lull excruciating, which was why she continued. “It makes sense you thought my girls gave Austin the pot. I thought so too. I’m sorry for gloating when the truth came out.”
A second sorry in one day. It had to be a record. Beth climbed off her bike and tossed her towel into a wicker hamper. “That was a seriously shitty night.”
Laura had never heard Beth curse before.
“I want to say sorry too,” Beth said as an older gentleman in a Harvard sweatshirt and short shorts entered the gym. “Don, just the man I was hoping to see.”
Beth crossed the gym, leaving Laura dangling. She spoke to the man in hushed tones while he went through a series of calisthenics.
Laura made out only snippets, most of which sounded like gibberish. Lis pendens. Discovery. In limine. Whatever these words meant, they sidetracked Beth from apologizing to Laura.
“Great work, as always,” Don said. “Let’s reconvene after the Zoom.”
Beth rejoined Laura. “Sorry about that. Big case.”
“You were saying…before he came in?” Laura gestured to the old man lifting a barbell she was sure would crush him.
Beth furrowed her brow. “Gosh, I don’t remember.”
“Right, well.” Laura started to collect her things. She’d said what she needed to say.
“Wait, yes. I was apologizing to you.” Beth looked around. “Let’s get out of here. There’s kind of a church and state thing going between work and personal at our firm.”
Laura followed Beth into the elevator and up to a different floor, this one lined with identical, pristine conference rooms. Beth opened the door to an empty one and motioned for Laura to take a seat. “I’m going to quickly change out of gym clothes.”
She returned in a smart pants suit and took a seat opposite Laura at a shiny wood table that stretched across the entire room.
“Should I have my lawyer present?” Laura quipped.
Beth missed the joke. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m also sorry for how I acted at dinner. But other times too.” She tugged at a loose thread on her blouse. “The honest truth is that I’m jealous of you.”
Laura was aghast. “Me? You’re jealous of me? I’m a stay-at-home mom with modest to poor cooking abilities and a messy house.” You got this all wrong, honey, Laura thought.
To her surprise, Beth’s eyes watered, making them look iridescent. She was as beautiful as she was smart. It was easy to see why Matthew had fallen for her.
“Remember the night of the fireworks? Austin tripped on that loose deck plank. He was crying and I just froze. You immediately sprang into action, getting ice, Band-Aids, bacitracin. You distracted him and made him laugh while you fixed him up—and that’s after you’d slipped in the kitchen and gotten hurt yourself. I just stood there like a bump on a log. I didn’t know how to help my own child.”
“I’ve been at this for a long time,” Laura said. She didn’t feel particularly proud of her maternal superpowers: making a brown bag lunch in under three minutes, knowing where the first-aid kit is in every room, erasing grass stains from uniforms like Houdini. Beth, who casually dropped legal lingo of the kind Laura only heard on TV, had no business envying her.
“Don’t be modest. And how about the day after? When Austin got lost at Fantasy Island—” Beth broke off.
“Do you have any idea how many times I lost my kids at Fantasy Island? Both of them. And for way longer.”
“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. It’s not just knowing what to do. It’s knowing how to do it,” said Beth. “I find all these programs for Austin and make sure he has access to everything that could help his future. But I don’t even know how to get him to stop crying when he’s hurt. Do you know he asked our au pair to take him for his checkup instead of me?”
Laura could imagine how that would sting. For years she wished she could have afforded more childcare, but it would have gutted her if the girls preferred their babysitter to her.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m jealous of you too,” Laura said.
“Of course it does,” Beth said, with a throaty laugh. “Can I ask why?”
“You know Doug and I got pregnant when we were still in college. I’m not saying I was going to be some major CEO or a partner in a law firm, but I definitely had bigger aspirations than carpool duty. I blamed Doug that I never got on the career track. I blamed the kids, the patriarchy, our inability to afford childcare, even the weather. Someone had to make sure our driveway was shoveled, right? Meanwhile, I watched you raising a genius while having this badass career and managing to always look great. Seriously, that Peloton ride nearly gave me a coronary. I lowered the resistance when you weren’t looking.”
“I saw.”
“Of course you did. You see everything and you’re on top of everything.” Laura threw up her hands. “I have all this money now and I’m still not on top of things.”
“Well, I didn’t notice my son was doing drugs, let alone making them,” Beth said with refreshing humility. “Why are we just now having this conversation? I’ve been married to your brother for fifteen years.”
“I don’t know. I think every family leaves a lot of things unsaid, for better or for worse. Personally, I’ve been in triage mode since becoming a mother, so it was easier to judge you from afar rather than make time for a heart-to-heart.”
“Matthew and I try to be open with each other,” Beth said. “Though I wasn’t planning to show him that TikTok video.” She picked up her phone, which had just dinged. “Look at this.” She turned the screen so Laura could see Matthew and Austin arm in arm, Austin wearing a gold medal around his neck. Father and son both had windswept hair in the photo. Matthew’s zigzagged across his bald spot like a lightning bolt. “Well done! I can see the tornado machine clearly worked,” Laura said. “Look at my brother’s face. I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him look that happy.”
Beth’s face darkened. “Why do you say that? Matthew is a very happy person.”
“Of course. I only meant that he usually seems stressed. You know how when he’s on a call he gets that foaming-at-the-mouth, rabid face and his eyes look sort of like he’s dead inside? Adult Matthew is different from kid Matthew, that’s all I’m saying.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, Laura wished she could reel them back in.
“So you’re saying he used to be happy but then he met me and he’s not?”
“Not at all. In fact, I’m grateful that he met you. If he hadn’t, well he might have turned out—”
“Like Noah,” Beth said. “It’s useful to have a fun-squasher around, huh?”
“Can we get back to the part where we apologized and admitted we were jealous of each other? That was nice.” Laura put her hands up in prayer and Beth’s grimace faltered.
“I think that’s a good idea. One major blowout a year is about all I can take. There’s something I’ve wanted to ask you,” Beth said. “Austin turned thirteen in June and I kind of blew it on the bar mitzvah front. Obviously, this isn’t my milieu—”
“For what it’s worth, your Passover seder is delicious. A-plus for the matzah ball soup,” Laura said.
“Well, I just buy prepared food and serve it. Your feast is another story.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” Laura said, dropping her voice. “I don’t cook any of it either.”
“I knew it!” Beth pumped a fist in the air. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t appropriate. As I was saying, I always figured your mom would plan Austin’s bar mitzvah but then she got sick and, to be honest, once she was gone I felt like I was off the hook. But now I think it’s really a shame not to have a bar mitzvah for him. It would be nice for the family to get together and you did such a great job with Emma’s and Hannah’s that I thought maybe you could help?”
In hindsight, Laura would have said, “I think I can find some time in my schedule to help you with planning,” but instead blurted out, “I would absolutely love that. You have no idea how freaking bored I’ve been.”
* * *
—
Staring up at the giant blue whale suspended from the ceiling of the Museum of Natural History, Laura and Sophie were starting to get neck cricks.
“I get that Austin is into science, but I feel like I’m on a class trip,” Sophie said.
“Agree. And it’s way too lavish for a bar mitzvah. If you recall, Emma’s and Hannah’s bat mitzvahs were in the basement of the temple and the whole place smelled like herring. It was still good enough for a bunch of thirteen-year-olds to run wild.”
“Can I answer any questions for you?” The woman from the private events department, a smug little thing named Arabella, approached. “We host events under the whale all the time. Mostly weddings, but we’ve had our fair share of religious milestones too. Seinfeld’s son had his bar mitzvah here. I’m not supposed to say that.”
“I think we’ve seen everything we need to,” Laura said. “Thank you for showing us around.”
“A pleasure. You’re lucky the date is available. We just had a cancellation. But I suppose luck is normally on your side.” Arabella gave them a knowing smile. Laura zeroed in on her Invisalign.
“Excuse me?” Sophie cocked an eyebrow.
“The lottery,” Arabella said. “We google everyone who makes a private event appointment. Can I just say congratulations? I’ve never won anything in my life. How did it feel when you found out? What was the first thing you bought?”
A few months earlier, Laura would have gasped. By now, she was used to it. Winning the lottery had somehow made it okay for total strangers to ask them personal questions. It didn’t help that the YouTube video of their televised win was the first return when their names were searched.
Sophie wasn’t having it. “Would you ask any other person—let’s say some hotshot CEO—looking to host a party here how they spend their money?”
Arabella, beet red, said nothing as she shuffled her feet.
“I didn’t think so. We’re all done here.” Sophie tugged at Laura’s arm and marched out of the cavernous space.
“Wow!” Laura looked at her little sister in wonder when they reached the steps of the museum. It had snowed the day before and the bare branches in Central Park were coated in shimmering white powder. It was a vista prettier than anything she’d seen on her recent travels.
“That felt good,” Sophie said. “I have no idea where that moxie came from. Actually, I do. I’m at stress level ten thousand.” She plopped down on the cold steps. Laura looked at her watch. If she left her car in the garage past six p.m., the rate would double when she dipped into peak hours. Two decades of a penny-pinching mindset were hard to unlearn. Oddly, splurging on two decadent vacations felt natural. It was the daily purchases that made her stumble, like buying organic fruit, even when they came in a peel, and coloring her hair every three weeks instead of every six. She looked at her sister’s face, scrunched in despair, and said fuck it to the additional garage fee.
“What’s going on?”
“I thought seeing Dad and finding out about his painting would help me. But I’m still blocked. When I was teaching all day, I had a zillion ideas running through my head. I kept a notebook on my desk to jot them down. Now I have all this time and my brain is an empty shell. I can’t even finish the one painting that has a buyer waiting for it. I was glad to hear Dad’s story and know we have this in common, but—like—now what? So we’re both failed painters? He gave it up because he wanted stability and I was a hack all along. And I haven’t even told you what a crap girlfriend I’ve been.”
“Sophie, slow down. Stop berating yourself. You’ve had so much happen in the past six months, it’s completely expected that you’re unfocused. It’ll pass. You’ll get your groove back.”
“That’s what Ravi said, but I don’t want people giving me a pass any longer,” Sophie said. “You’re not an artist. You’re a mom. If I don’t have inspiration, I have nothing. You still have your family.”
“That was harsh. Just because I did carpool for more than a decade doesn’t mean I can’t understand other ways of being,” Laura said. She didn’t need to pay surge pricing at the garage to be talked down to. “Apparently, I’m more than just a mom. Beth said I’m a supermom.”
“You totally are. See? I’m not just talentless, I’m also an asshole. Somebody else should have won the lottery, not me. I was supposed to make great art with my resources and it’s just—” Sophie mimicked vomiting. “Let’s talk about you. I’m being narcissistic. How was Dubai? How are things going with Doug?”
Now Laura really wished she’d gotten her car out of the garage. She could be cruising across the George Washington Bridge instead of being interrogated. The problem with telling people about the problems in your life is that you couldn’t put the genie back in the bottle.
“Dubai was not my thing. Everything felt really manufactured. Like it was trying too hard to be amazing. The tallest this, the most expensive that. It was sort of like Disney meshed with Vegas meshed with Great Adventure.”
“Wow, that’s very specific. And you and Doug?”
Laura gritted her teeth. Lately her jaw had been aching something awful. Doug said she was grinding at night. He wanted to make her a mouth guard to sleep in. Just what she needed—something else to make her less attractive in the bedroom.
“It was fine. We’ve never spent this much time together. Once we stopped talking about the kids, there were all these weird silences. You know I can’t handle that. I thought these trips would bring us closer. Or at least be more fun. I mean, compared to the vacations we used to take with the girls—driving to Florida to save money, the four of us staying in one room with a rollaway bed and one of the girls hiding in the closet when housekeeping came—you’d think we’d enjoy the good life a bit more.”
Sophie’s phone rang but she silenced it. “I’ll call Ravi back. You and Doug are like Dubai. Trying too hard. Why don’t you just watch a movie together on the couch rather than try to manufacture a perfect experience? That puts too much pressure on both of you. I read an article that said couples have less sex on vacation than they do at home. Isn’t that surprising? But it’s kind of a metaphor for life. The more expectations you have, the more disappointing things can be. Promise me you guys will do a takeout and movie night, in sweatpants, and see how that goes,” Sophie said. “Then give me a full report the next day. Or right after the sex. Whatever.”
