Soaring

  “God, fuck, sorry. You’re right. It’s a wonder your kids are functioning instead of in inpatient therapy. Now I get it. You spoiled your kids. That guy had every reason to step out on you.”

  There was lightness to his voice but just to be sure, I asked, “Are you joking?”

  “Fuck yeah, Amy. Shit,” he answered, his voice shaking.

  I pressed my cheek into his chest and also started shaking.

  Then audibly giggling.

  Mickey audibly chuckled with me.

  When I stopped, I lifted my glass and took a sip of wine.

  When Mickey stopped, he did the same with his beer.

  We fell silent and sat in the dark.

  But I did it hoping it was one of Mickey Donovan’s moments of decent.

  Or maybe even a hint of a flash of happy.

  * * * * *

  The next afternoon, my phone on my kitchen counter rang.

  I saw it was Mickey calling and I snatched it up, glanced at my landing, saw the TV on and bits of both my kids’ limbs. Neither of them looked my way, so casually, I took the call while walking to the hall and heading toward my bedroom.

  “Hey,” I answered.

  “Hey back. Havin’ a good day?”

  “I think so, although I’m a little concerned about what appears to be evidence that suggests my kids have a serious television habit.”

  “They’re there again?”

  I made it to my room, silently shut the door and went to my bed to sit on it, saying, “Yes. It’s Sunday but they texted this morning around ten, were here within the hour. We had lunch. We took the Rover out for a spin. And we’re having dinner.”

  “This is good, Amy.”

  “It is, Mickey. So good. Amazingly good. But a little freaky.”

  “Kids watch TV, babe.”

  “I know. But something about this isn’t right.”

  “How’s that?”

  “One minute they’re barely speaking to me. And it wasn’t like the next minute they were. We worked up to it, got over the hump, skidded down the other side.” I crossed my legs under me on my bed. “But now we’re speeding. They’re here a lot and I want them here a lot. I want them here for good. I’d take them here forever. But there’s something about this change that makes me think that either they’re escaping their dad’s or Martine is perpetuating cruel and unusual punishment by not allowing two teenage kids to DVR anything.”

  “Maybe they saw they were bein’ hard on you and they’re tryin’ to make up for it,” he suggested.

  “Maybe,” I mumbled.

  “Go with it. Build on it. And just have this good without makin’ it dark when you don’t know if there’s anything to worry about.”

  That was good advice.

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Good,” he said. “Now, speaking of kids.”

  “Oh boy,” I muttered.

  “Yeah. Ash and Cill know their friend and next door neighbor, Amy, is Dad’s girlfriend.”

  The girlfriend again.

  It felt nice again.

  But I was still braced.

  “And?” I prompted.

  “Cill’s cool with it. Not straight up, he looks after his mom, had questions about what this means for me and his mom and it wasn’t real fun to share that there was not ever gonna be a me and his mom again. He came to terms with it without throwin’ a shit fit, which was a surprise but it was good. Ash didn’t have much of a reaction except to say, ‘No kidding, Dad?’ which started to set Cill off because he thought she knew something he didn’t know and he isn’t big on that.”

  “But it’s all okay now?”

  “Woulda had you over for dinner tonight, but don’t think spendin’ the day with you yesterday then havin’ you back tonight would be good. But I do think, if we keep easin’ them into it, they’ll get there.”

  I smiled at the phone. “That’s good.”

  “So, tomorrow and Tuesday, I’m at the firehouse. That means phone on your nightstand.”

  “Right,” I agreed, still smiling.

  “Wednesday, your kids aren’t with you, I’m takin’ you to dinner and a movie.”

  Me and Mickey in a dark movie theater.

  That sounded fantastic.

  “I’d love that, Mickey,” I told him. “But we’re taking my Land Rover.”

  “Fine. I drive.”

  “You drive?” I asked. “But it’s mine.”

  “I strike you as a man who rides?”

  “Jimbo drives the fire truck,” I pointed out.

  “Jimbo doesn’t have a vagina.”

  My back shot straight. “Really?”

  “Your ass is in my Expedition in the passenger seat or in the same place in your Rover,” he declared.

  “It’s a new car, Mickey. I love it. It took everything I had to allow Auden to take it for a spin today. I wanna drive.”

  “Drive around the next coupla days. Wednesday night, you know your choice.”

  He was lucky he was so fabulous for the times when he was so annoying.

  “You need to get checked,” I snapped. “You clearly have an overabundance of testosterone in a way it’s harmful to your health.”

  “Not sure that can even happen,” he replied smoothly.

  “The harmful to your health part is me murdering you.”

  “You take me out, it’s back to that toy in your nightstand and I’m thinkin’ you don’t want that.”

  My head twitched as I asked, “Have you been snooping?”

  “Single woman who goes hot quick, babe, took a guess, I was right and I don’t consider it snooping. More like investigating just in case I’m in the mood to shake things up. Any man has gotta have the tools he needs to get the job done.”

  That gave me a shiver along with the premonition of an aneurysm.

  “Amy?” he called when I didn’t respond.

  “Quiet. I’m trying to think if I’ve seen any Internet cafés I can go to to anonymously order poison off the Web.”

  “Toy comes out tomorrow night,” he muttered.

  Another shiver.

  “Are you done annoying me?” I asked.

  His smile was in his voice. “For now.”

  “Fine. See you tomorrow night.”

  “Charge it up, Amy.”

  God, he couldn’t be believed.

  The problem was I was thinking I loved that about him.

  Along with a variety of other things.

  “Whatever. Have a good night.”

  “’Night, baby.”

  With the call with Mickey done for the night, I tossed the phone on my bed and went back out to my kids.

  * * * * *

  “Yes,” I breathed, I came, Mickey slid my vibrator away and then he slid inside me. “Yes,” I repeated.

  We were on our sides, face to face and I had my leg thrown over Mickey’s hip. Even though it lasted a good long while, Mickey let me finish coming before he kissed me, fucked me and again sent me flying.

  Condoms being history, after, it was me cleaning up, slipping on a nightie and back into bed with Mickey where he tangled us together and held me close in the dark.

  I was snuggled deep, warmed by his body, replete and half asleep before he spoke.

  “See, my heiress likes the way I shake things up.”

  I opened my eyes and saw his shadowed throat.

  “Shut up, Mickey.”

  “Think I’m a year older, you came so long.”

  I tipped my head back and glared at him through the dark.

  “Shut up, Mickey.”

  He bent his head and kissed me. It lasted longer than my orgasm, a lot longer and ended with us tangled up tight, his hand on my behind and me pressed so close it was like I wanted him to absorb me.

  “Now, go to sleep, baby,” he ordered when he stopped kissing me.

  I tucked my face back in his throat and told him, “You’re most annoying.”

  “Good you get off on that.”

&nbsp
; He was correct.

  I decided silence was in order.

  I was as close as I could be without Mickey being inside me.

  He still pulled me closer.

  “Flash,” he whispered.

  “What?” I asked sleepily but still managed to inject tartly.

  “Of really fuckin’ happy.”

  I wasn’t going to cry.

  I was not going to cry.

  I didn’t cry.

  I pushed even closer, kissed my guy’s throat and whispered, “’Night, honey.”

  “’Night, Amy.”

  I closed my eyes, settled into Mickey, and experiencing my own flash, I fell asleep.

  * * * * *

  Mickey and I were on our way back from the movie when he said, “Both your kids came to you last night, so I talked to a coupla buds. They’re good with bein’ on call should I need them at the firehouse.”

  He had my hand in his resting on my thigh and he was stroking the side with his thumb.

  He also was gently reminding me he wanted to meet my kids.

  I liked that but I was nervous about it.

  “Next time they come again together, I’ll give them the talk,” I promised.

  We’d already had the dating discussion and they were absolutely not under the impression their father and I would get back together.

  But Mickey was right. Although I didn’t see them on Monday, they both came over after school the day before and stayed well past dinner. And they didn’t even watch a program they DVRed. We all watched a movie on HBO together.

  And it was good. It was easy. It was normal. It was what we had three years ago and it was this way like those three years hadn’t happened.

  Of course, Auden and I had our brief discussion and it wasn’t a surprise that Olympia didn’t address it. She shied away from confrontation (except when she was fighting with her brother). Not only her own but others. Something that made what I did make me feel even guiltier because she’d seen a lot of that between Conrad, Martine and me.

  She wouldn’t broach it. She’d let it lie and move on.

  And Mickey was also right that I should rejoice, build on it, let it be and not worry.

  But I was a mother, and as removed from my children as I was, I knew them.

  Something else was happening.

  Until my last breath I wanted them to feel I was their safe harbor.

  I just wanted to know, if that’s why they needed me, what I was harboring them from.

  Mickey drove to my place, hit the garage door opener and drove right in. I sat beside him, taking my mind from my thoughts by thinking my house was perfect. In that moment, I was thinking that because it had a two-car garage as well as a smaller one-car one next to it that you could get to with its own opener and through a door from the bigger one to the smaller one inside.

  The one-car one was perfect for my Mercedes.

  The Rover and my son’s Civic got the big one.

  See?

  Perfect.

  He parked. We got out. We went in.

  I was wandering to the kitchen, flipping on the pendant lights, asking Mickey, “Do you want a beer?” when the doorbell rang.

  I stopped and looked to it.

  Mickey, a few paces behind me, had also stopped and he was twisted to it.

  The outdoor light was on and I knew the body shaded in the glass.

  Conrad.

  What was he doing here at this hour?

  Or at all?

  “Shit, that’s Conrad,” I whispered.

  Mickey stayed twisted toward the door, but slowly, his head turned to me.

  I caught his look, which meant I caught my breath, and that was unfortunate because I had to focus on breathing and was too late in acting.

  This meant Mickey was swiftly prowling toward the door before I got my body to move and my mouth to call, “Mickey, let me.”

  He stopped at the door, aimed that dangerous look at me and said one word.

  “No.”

  Then he turned back to the door, unlocked it and threw it open.

  I was five feet away but had a good view of Conrad on my doorstep scowling up at Mickey.

  “You do not get to do this,” Mickey growled as I got to him, pressed to the side of his back and put a hand to its small.

  Before I could say a word, Conrad looked to me.

  “Call your Neanderthal off, Amelia.”

  Mickey went solid beside me and I was right there with him.

  “Don’t speak about Mickey that way,” I snapped.

  “Why?” Conrad bit back. “You felt free to aim your venom at Martine.”

  “Yeah, but she isn’t fuckin’ me with your ring on her finger. You got no leg to stand on with that one so get past it, asshole,” Mickey ground out.

  Conrad turned angry eyes to Mickey. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I do and part of what I know is your woman knew you had to scrape off your wife before she got her own ring from you so she doesn’t have a leg to stand on either,” Mickey returned. “Now, again, get past it and if you got somethin’ to say, say it and then get the fuck outta here.”

  Conrad looked back to me. “This man doesn’t know me, he has no call to curse at me.”

  “Man, you’re here at ten at night uninvited and unwanted and you rang the bell the minute we got in, so you been layin’ in wait for your attack,” Mickey shot back. “I opened the door and you brought it. You brought it and blew any respect you might have gotten from me. This isn’t your home. You got no rights in this situation. And advice. Fuckin’ grow a pair. No call to curse at you?” he taunted. “Fuckin’ sissy.”

  Conrad’s face was hard and his fury was palpable when he turned that to me.

  “I’ll thank you to adhere to the custody agreement ordered by the judge,” he stated.

  “I’m not kidnapping the kids and forcing them to watch TV here, Conrad,” I replied. “They ask to come. This is their home. They can come anytime they please.”

  “If they’re asking to come, as ordered by the court, you should explain you’ve got them one weekend a month and you’ll see them then.”

  What a pompous ass.

  And further, it could not be believed that he actually wanted to keep our children away from their mother when they wanted to spend time with me.

  God! How had I ever been in love with this man?

  “I can’t say I read every word, Conrad,” I retorted. “But I don’t think it says anywhere in the court documents that if the children wish to spend additional time with me, I’m not allowed to let them do that.”

  “I’ll have my attorneys scour them and if that’s not the case, perhaps I’ll move to see them amended,” Conrad volleyed.

  “You do that,” I invited.

  “You don’t want to go in front of the judge again, Amelia,” he warned.

  “You’re wrong,” I told him. “I so do. I really, really do.”

  “You have a very short memory,” he sneered.

  “I could say the same thing,” I returned.

  “What? A few months of behaving yourself? That won’t go very far,” he scoffed.

  “I’m sorry, my mistake. I’ll take one moment to mention that it actually hasn’t been a few months, but over a year. But to the point, it isn’t just your short-term memory that’s lacking. It’s your long-term.”

  “My relationship with Martine is no longer a weapon you can use against me,” he declared.

  “Perhaps. Though, her and Gail Conway might get me somewhere.”

  Gail Conway, the instigator of the sexual harassment suit in Lexington and a woman who had since moved on but who still very much disliked Dr. Conrad Moss.

  Conrad blanched.

  Bulls-eye.

  “If that isn’t enough, I’ll add Hillary Schmidt,” I went on.

  Ms. Schmidt did not file a suit, but she wasn’t too happy Conrad slam-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ed her while he was also wooing Martine, this
going on for six months.

  I couldn’t say I was overjoyed to see the fear flash across his face.

  But it didn’t suck.

  “And Erin McIntyre,” I kept going.

  Obviously, I’d had a report from my attorney.

  And he had a very good investigator.

  “I would refrain from trying to get to them,” I advised. “They’ve already agreed to be deposed. Jumped at the chance, actually. They aren’t real big fans of yours.”

  His face twisted and, really, how had I ever been in love with him?

  “So this is your new tactic?” he bit out.

  “No. This is your warning,” I replied. “You do not keep my children away from me. You allow them to come when they please,” still standing close to Mickey, I leaned into Conrad, “without one peep.” I leaned back. “And when I speak to them about making that a regular thing, suggest sharing custody and they agree, you’ll not only also agree, you’ll fucking champion it. Other than that, you’ll keep your mouth shut. You’ll also keep your wife’s mouth shut. Or we will be back in front of a judge, Conrad. But this time, I’ll eviscerate you.”

  “The Hathaway comes out,” he sniped.

  “At least they gave me something,” I fired back.

  “You’ll regret this, Amelia,” he threatened.

  On this, clearly, not liking me being threatened, Mickey shifted a little so he was between Conrad and me.

  When he did this, I fell a little more in love with Mickey Donovan.

  And I was falling in love.

  Tumbling.

  Head over feet.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t feel all the goodness of that. Conrad was there being an ass.

  “Too late,” I replied. “I’m already deep in regret that I wasted twenty-two years on you when you weren’t worth a minute.” I delivered that, peering around Mickey’s arm to do it.

  “You’re done,” Mickey stated right after I was done speaking and right when Conrad opened his mouth to retort.

  Conrad’s eyes jerked to Mickey.

  Then he jerked them right back to me. “You share any of the dirt you dug up on me with our children—”

  “I could bang my chest and drag you to your truck by your throat,” Mickey suggested and Conrad’s eyes flew back to him. “That way, you might get me.”

  “You touch me, I press charges,” he warned.

  Mickey looked down at me. “I feel some grunts comin’ on. You wanna go get my club?”