Aspen

Thwack.

I never held a million anything.

It’s not so great.

Thwack.

A puff of coconut oil and menthol smoke drifted up from her sagging, overly-tan thigh.

Oh yeah?

Thwack. Each time he smacked her, a little negative rectangle quickly appeared, faded, and filled in with blood.

Yep, one time my grandparents gave me a million lire.

Pfft. that’s not the same – what’d that come out to? A hundred bucks?

Eight hundred. But see, I got it all in one envelope and flipped through the 100,000 notes. It was a million of something.

They sat with their legs dipping into the water. Sheri stared at the dirty lip of the pool and felt lost for a moment. 4 feet – no diving.

Well, I won’t be needing this anymore – the settlement is going to change things.

Thwack. Quit hitting me! Put that thing away, willya? Sheri growled teasingly at Rob. He put the small black notebook into his chest pocket underneath his sling and snapped it shut. I won’t be needing this pretty soon anyway.

So, what are you going to do with your half?

I’m not sure yet, but

I know what I want you to do with yours – don’t go pissing it away on bills or rent. Buy something – something for yourself – something that you wouldn’t get for yourself otherwise. Not for the kids, and don’t go paying anyone back or anything. Just spend it on you, ok. Mine? Mine’s gunna go for a new hand – partly anyway, but first I’m probably going to try doubling it up. Sheri glanced quickly at Rob’s sling and then winked at him. She hadn’t settled on what she would buy.

The condo deck was warm and poolside glittery; time was noticeably avoiding the subject. Rob stared off in a vague junky-resoluteness as he visualized his next few moves – she could tell he was starting to tilt. Sheri meanwhile was drifting in and out of fantasy shopping trips under her oversized sunglasses and frayed swimsuit. She couldn’t decide if she would buy a new car or quit her job in the credit department. Buy something for herself! Her feet were getting cold. Shit. I’ve got to pick up the kids.

Sheri plopped into her forest green Dodge Aspen and lit a joint. I hate Sundays.

She drove from the North End and took the long way down Main Street so she could plan her shopping trip before swinging by the little league field. Sheri rarely had money to spare. Between rent, bills, and Catholic School and the kids, there wasn’t much left over. There were plenty of stores that she wouldn’t be caught dead going into– either from shame or pride. The old money storefronts with smoked glass and gold-leaf façades would typically have driven her away. The most opulent things she could imagine would be a fur coat. She knew that her mother had always wanted one and that she could never convince Jimmy to buy her one. A fur would get her goat.

Her ex-husband greets her at the curb and her kids quickly jump in the back seat. They are sun-burned and dusty, and she could tell they were sticky.

Smoking that shit in the car? With the kids?

Sheri could feel her face turn red and her high coming down. With a smirk that said ‘I don’t have time for this, Keith,’ she squealed quickly as she pulled away not sure if it was her tires or the fan-belt. He slammed his hand on the trunk and yelled – you still owe me for last month’s support!

She felt the humid haze into the condo parking lot. She barely stopped the car before the kids bolted out to meet their friends under trees and on nearby retaining walls. I want you both home by supper.

When she got home, the condo was quiet. She hung up her purse by the door and walked into the kitchen for a drink and to pick up her shopping daydreams. As she sat down, she saw the sides of Rob’s feet framed by the bottom of the bedroom door. Alarm snapped to resignation, she’d seen them from this angle before. Eventually, he’d wake up and sell what didn’t go up his nose – could be half an eight on the nightstand or less likely more in bag by the bed.

She settled on fur.