What's Mine and Yours(31)

Lacey didn’t want to talk about what they had done, now that it was over. If there was one thing she had never imagined herself being, it was an adulterer. Who was her husband? To whom did she owe her loyalty, her life? Nothing made sense anymore.

Lacey sucked her beer down to the last drop. “I ought to be going.”

Robbie crossed the room, put his hands around her face. “Lacey May, we’ve still got time.”

“I’ve got to make dinner before Hank gets home.”

“I don’t mean right now. I mean, you’re alive, and I’m alive. Anything is possible.”

Lacey hated when Robbie brought up dying like this, like they had to be grateful no matter what life brought their way because one day they’d be dead. She wasn’t like him—she didn’t need a rush from drugs to feel thankful for her life; she didn’t need a friend to die to know each day was precious. She never would have tired of their old life, even if they could have gone on living forever, the two of them in their little blue house, the girls never growing any older, the leaves never falling from the trees, and Jenkins running circles eternally in the yard.

“Goddamn you, Robbie,” Lacey said. “Why’d you go and ruin everything?”

Robbie shushed her. “We can figure it out. We’ll keep the house—”

Lacey wished she could believe him. He’d make a fool of her, if she let him. She kissed him hard and left before he could say anything else to get inside her head. He had always been the one who led her. Without him, she had no idea what was right.



Lacey May had left him burning. He had tried to be good, to calm himself down, but he didn’t last very long alone. He hit one bar, and then another. First, it was dusk, then night, and he couldn’t piece together all he’d done in the hours since Lacey. And the burning—he couldn’t get rid of that.

The first girl he drew into the bathroom was beautiful, but Robbie couldn’t bear to look at her. He shut his eyes. Her tongue was sweet, made him grow huge, muscular, warm. He asked her how much she liked him, and she said very much. He asked her if she loved him, and she said, yes, very much. Robbie pinned her to the wall, and they slammed into each other a few times. The girl moaned in his ear. His bones were vibrating, his cock enormous. Music streamed underneath the door, accordion and plucky guitar. She took his hand and led him back out to her friends. Of course she wanted to be seen with him; she was proud of what they had done. He bought her a beer, and her friends beers. The girls had dark hair and unbuttoned blouses, and he was making them laugh. He was funnier in Spanish.

How old are you? he asked them, and his favorite girl said, How old do you want me to be, like in a movie. He decided it was fine—these girls were old enough, at least, to be in the bar.

On the dance floor, he saw the devil in the corner—Amado and his big pinkie ring. The girl he had taken into the bathroom led Robbie over to the booth. She was one of Amado’s girls; he called her by her name—something beautiful, a kind of flower. Rosa or Lila or Flora. She slipped a baggie into Robbie’s pocket. A gift. He kissed her, like a man, in front of Amado. He wished it were Lacey May who could see. He whispered to Lila all the things he wanted to do to her, and she laughed. They danced; he held Flora by the hips. Amado bought another round. What more did he need? If Lacey sold the house, if she never came to see him again, he’d be fine, in his new life, with Rosa, and they’d see. They’d all see that he was the one who had given them everything they counted as theirs.



The next weekend Lacey May pulled into the motel parking lot and honked the horn, ordered the girls to get out. She was late for an appointment to get a second opinion on the house. Robbie had never shown up that morning, and she had called and called until he finally picked up. She had wondered if he was punishing her, taking out what happened between them on the girls. She honked the horn again.

“Jesus, Ma, cut it out,” Noelle said.

“Who’s it going to bother? The neighborhood association? Now go on and get out.”

The girls climbed onto the hot asphalt and stood together, unmoving.

“Is there a problem?” Lacey May said.

“We don’t know which room it is,” Noelle answered.

“Right.” Lacey May had forgotten the girls hadn’t been here before, and, as far as they knew, neither had she. “It’s that one.” She pointed. “Number forty-three.”

Lacey May honked once more for good measure, then tore away.

The girls had been knocking for a while when Margarita flopped onto the curb and folded her arms. “Can’t you dummies see he’s not in there?”

Diane tried to peer through the blinds. “Where else would he be?”

“He’s probably just passed out,” Noelle said.

“Like asleep?” asked Diane.

“Yes, chickadee. Just like that.” Noelle banged on the door harder.

Margarita rolled her eyes. “Let’s just come back later. I’m hungry. I want to eat that cactus taco again.”

“It’s called a nopal,” Noelle said, “And we can’t go over there by ourselves. Are you crazy?” They knew what she meant—the east side wasn’t safe to wander.

“It’s the middle of the day, Noelle.”

“We can try and catch another snake, too,” Diane said. “Maybe there’s one in those woods.” She pointed across the five-lane road to a chain of businesses: a used tire dealer, a fabric store, a row of squat fast-food huts. Behind the strip mall loomed a hedge of pines.