I pull her close to me, put my hand on her back to steady her so I stay inside, and we roll over so I’m on top. I don’t pull back and loom over her and I don’t hammer her. I go slow, savoring the pleasure of every stroke.
Neither of us makes a sound louder than a gasp or sigh, even if Rose has to clench her teeth to stop herself.
The only time I make a noise, Rose covers my mouth with her hand as I come. When she lets go I lie there panting on top of her.
“Keep going,” she says.
When we finally finish I’m exhausted and finally, at long last, satisfied.
“I’m going to be gone in the morning,” I tell her.
“I know,” she says before she goes to sleep.
“I love you.”
“Mmm,” she says, and pulls herself against me, half asleep.
16
Rose
It’s Sunday morning and I should sleep in, but my heart knows I must wake, and so when my eyes open, the sun has not yet fully risen, only a dull glow in my blinds to illuminate an empty bed.
His side is still warm.
His side.
I pull the sheet into my fist and wonder why I’m not crying. I feel hollow inside, like the presence of something I’d never noticed has been removed and taught me its shape by its absence. I don’t want to go to sleep but I don’t want to wake. I want it to be yesterday again.
I want Quentin.
Rising to sit up, I lean on my knees and try to understand how I feel. The cold void inside offers me no answers. Am I sad that he’s gone or sad that I ever knew him? Part of me wants to wish him away, make it all a dream. It would be better if we never knew each other at all.
The other part of me is warm with the rightness of it. Rose Dawson was fashioned to knock on doors and yell at their owners about where their cars are parked. I feel like every moment of my life stretching back was a chain of events that led me to step up to the that door and pound on it with my fist.
I want to cry but I can’t, I just feel numb. I think some part of me refuses to believe he’s really gone. The passion I felt with him was the most real thing I’ve ever known. The rest of the world is just dust.
Still, I have my girls. He made them happy for a time. I don’t know what I’m going to do now. I always knew that bastard Russ would make another move to get the girls away. He has no interest in raising them himself. He’ll pass that off to his new toy while he goes out and fucks the younger model on the sly. He just wants to spite me.
He told me once he should have just driven me to an abortion clinic instead of letting me be a boat anchor around his neck. That’s my eldest he’s talking about. My little girl, Karen. Thinking about that man taking custody of my children makes my blood boil.
Finally I slip my feet out from under the covers and stand up, sweeping my robe around my body. Then I spot it. There’s a box sitting on my side chair.
When I lift it, I find it surprisingly heavy. I move it to the bed and run my hands over the surface. It’s just wood, with two latches that flip up.
I raise the lid and almost keel over.
It’s full of money. A lot of money. I pick up one stack and find that it’s a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills bound together. Ten thousand dollars in my hand, and there must be dozens of them in the box. No, let’s see—six deep and ten wide…
There’s at least a million dollars in here in cash.
There’s also a note.
It reads,
* * *
Rose,
You are the only person in my life that has ever given me a happy memory. I wish more than anything that I could stay with you and your beautiful family. Without you I return to the nothing that I have always been. I will do everything to keep you safe. You will never hear from me again. I love you.
Burn this letter. Be careful with the money.
-Quent
* * *
I stare at the letters for a time, hoping that they’ll change, morph into a promise to return when everything is settled, but I can read it in the words. He doesn’t expect to ever come back because he doesn’t expect to be alive.
The box is like something out of a dream. I can’t believe it’s real. I slip the note in my pocket, close the box, and shove it under the bed, dizzy at the idea of all that money in one place, and in cash. I have to get it somewhere safe, but where? I can’t just walk into a bank and put in all that money. I’ll have to tell them where it came from.
It’s enough, though. If I figure something out, I can leave here. Get rid of the house. Pay a lawyer to deal with Russ once and for all, no more of his bullshit.
“Yay,” I sigh to myself.
I should feel free but I feel more constrained than ever. Stepping lightly, I check on the kids and make sure they’re in their beds before I descend to the first floor and sit on the living room couch for a while.
Quentin settled into this house in so little time. I can’t look anywhere without seeing something that reminds me of him over the last few days. Even where I’m sitting.