-29-
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
6:15 p.m.
"You look as pissed as I feel." Nick sized Olivia up as he joined her in the lobby of the Chelsea Mercantile building on 7th Avenue.
"I'm kicking myself for not leaving when you did. I took the fucking phone call and now I've ruined your night and mine."
"You'll never learn," he said, shaking his head. "Too damn conscientious, trying to dot every Iand cross every T. Just wait 'til you're a captain. You'll just have to sleep at the station house."
"Amaro, do me a favor?"
"Sure, partner. What is it?"
"Kill me if that happens," she begged. "Make it look accidental, but just kill me and save Alex from a jail term when she tries to do it herself."
"Trouble in paradise, Benson?"
"I never even get to spend enough time in paradise to be sure, but I think the natives are restless."
"Better take care of your business, partner. She doesn't seem like someone I'd want mad at me."
"She has been mad at you," Olivia teased. "How did you like it?"
"I didn't know enough back then to worry too much," Nick said. "But if the brief taste I got is any indication, it isn't a good thing."
"No, it's not," Olivia confirmed. "I need to talk to Cragen about some time off."
"I can't imagine Alex is home much more than you are."
"She's not, you're right. But when she is home, I'm never there. And with a serial rapist and a serial killer and now this bullshit that's gonna be all over the news, I may as well just move in to the crib. Then I can call Alex when I am coming home, instead of when I'm not."
Nick shook his head. He'd been there, and it was stressful as hell. You love the person and you love the job and it's hard for those two things to coexist. He thought Alex was probably a lot more understanding than most, but that wouldn't last forever. The job never stopped. There was a murder victim case waiting for them right now, and it would only add to their workload.
"Come on, Liv. We're here now. Standing in this lobby isn't doing us any good. May as well do what we get paid for."
7:20 p.m.
Alex ran for a half-hour, and mostly managed to direct her thoughts to the less-dangerous recesses of her mind. But when she got home, the quiet was unusually oppressive. She showered, put on music, thought about dinner and only got as far as deciding on a glass of Shiraz. She felt at loose ends, left holding two ends of an emotional rope plenty long enough to hang herself.
When she couldn't stand it another minute, she picked up the phone.
"The beauty of a longstanding friendship is that you can ignore someone for months on end, and then just call out of the blue and act as if you'd only just spoken the day before. Wouldn't you agree, Cab?" Kate hadn't even said hello when she'd answered the phone, skipping the niceties to launch into a veiled reprimand.
"We've talked."
"We've had face-time about campaign business, Madame District Attorney. We've toasted your victory in a crowd of hundreds. That doesn't count as talking."
"Either I'm experiencing deja vu, or we've had this conversation before," Alex said.
"Look at you, using your fancy French terminology to change the subject."
Alex laughed so hard she nearly spat out the wine she was sipping. "Fancy French…" she began, but was cut off.
"Never mind all that," Kate said. "What's going on?"
"Well, I was calling precisely because we haven't had time to talk lately. I thought maybe you'd want to meet somewhere for dinner or drinks. Just us."
"Tonight?" Kate's tone already said that was unlikely to happen.
"Sure, tonight would be good." It was as close as Alex could come to what she actually wanted to say: Yes, please, tonight. I need to talk to you. She was trying hard to sound casual, and it was working too well, because Kate didn't hear any urgency in the words or the tone.
"Ah, I wish I could, Alex, but you know your schedule isn't the only reason we haven't seen one another much. I'm just as guilty as you are. Work is insane, and…" She trailed off.
"And?"
"And Marina," Kate finished.
"Marina is insane?" Alex joked.
"No, just the opposite, actually. I'm going to move in with her, Cab."
Alex's mind was racing, trying to come up with the right words to say, struggling to remember if there had been any hint that things were so serious between her best friend and the NYU professor.
"Well, say something."
"I'm surprised, Kate, you'll have to give me a minute. It's a lot to absorb."
"Hard to believe that anyone would want to live with me?"
"No, not at all," Alex said. "But hard to believe that you'd want to live with anyone, to be honest. You've always said that would never happen, and frankly, you're getting so old I was starting to believe it."
"Always have to get a dig in, don't you?"
"No one ever wants a dose of their own medicine," Alex laughed, then she was quiet for a few seconds. "I'm happy for you both. You know I am, Kate. But it's a shock to the system. When is all of this happening?"
"Tonight. That's why I can't meet you for dinner."
"Tonight," Alex repeated. "You don't waste time, do you?"
"Well, I don't have moving men coming tonight, but I do have a broker coming over to start the process of getting my place up for lease. We've talked about it for a while, and I'm practically living with her as it is. It's time, Alex. It's the right thing for me. She's the right person."
There was dead air, and it dragged on long enough that Kate wondered if the call had dropped. "Cab, you gonna give me the silent treatment?"
"No, of course not. I'm not used to hearing you talk like this, that's all. Are you in love with her, Kate?"
"Yeah, you know, I am. She's amazing, and I know I've spent a lot of time trying not to be pinned down, but...let's put it this way: I don't know that she's the answer. But she certainly raises a lot of interesting questions."
"She must be amazing, because if I recall correctly, she lives in Brooklyn. The elusive Kate Merritt, Ms. Hard-to-Get herself, is moving to Brooklyn for a woman. Will wonders never cease?"
"Well, you know, Olivia Benson agreed to marry you, and that just proved to me that anything is possible. I mean, if someone can love you..."
"Oh, stop. I'd hate to have to kick your sorry ass just when you've found someone who'll put up with it. I need to congratulate you in person. How about this weekend?"
"That won't work, either. We're going to visit Marina's family—it's her parents' 50th anniversary."
"She's thoroughly domesticated you. You'll have to give me your address in the outer boroughs so I can be sure you get your subscription of Good Housekeeping."
"Very funny." Kate replied in her usual brusque tone, before softening a bit. "I'm sorry, Alex. I do want to get together. Soon, I promise. Things will calm down once I handle the crap with the apartment and everything. And I will email you the address-if you're ever overcome with wanderlust, you can venture across the Brooklyn Bridge and come visit me in Park Slope. You can hold the magazine subscription, though."
"Alright," Alex conceded. "No magazine, but I am going to hold you to that promise to get together, though." It was what you say, when you don't have it in you to tell someone you're struggling. Alex knew she could level with Kate, and tell her that she really needed some time—an early-morning coffee or a late-night drink would do, anywhere Kate could squeeze her in—but she couldn't bring herself to press the issue, not while Kate was so happy, and so busy being happy. "And Kate?"
"Yeah?"
"I guess it could be worse. Park Slope isn't shabby."
They ended the call, and Alex felt even more alone than she had before. She had been ready to tell Kate everything, to deal with whatever the reaction was. She needed someone to pull her back from the precipice she was on, but it obviously wasn't going to be Kate. Olivia was overworked and under pressure, Bill was still out of town, and even her therapist refused to see how truly fucked up she was.
Only one person in her life would hold her accountable. Unfortunately, that one person was what she needed to be held accountable for, an irony that didn't escape her as she dialed the phone. It was a number she had seen pop up on her phone too many times, but she hadn't dialed it herself. She hadn't initiated any contact since the night Madeline had pressed that key into her palm. Until now.
