140.
After over two hours of testimony, Ed finally pushed through the heavy double doors, walked directly to Olivia, arm extended, and held her hand as they strode out of the courthouse. "Where we headed?" He asked, his eyes darting around as if he expected paparazzi to pop out from behind the pillars.
"Pete's?" Olivia suggested. It was cozy, warm, dark, and close to Sarah's apartment.
"Yeah."
They endured the cab ride uptown in silence. There was a low likelihood the driver would care to eavesdrop or, if he was listening in, do anything with the information, but Ed wasn't taking any chances. He kept Olivia's hand in his and didn't let it go until they were seated. Stress didn't affect his manners; he took Olivia's coat and hung it on a nearby hook. They ordered and the drinks arrived quickly. Ed held up his glass, "Here we are again, drinking whiskey after a tough morning."
Olivia could smile at the memories of the two of them shutting out real life and hiding out in bars as the church scandal shook out. Events unfolded similarly each day-drop Noah off at daycare, check in at Community Affairs, find an excuse to leave, call Ed, drink for a few hours, go to Ed's apartment, eat something, pick up Noah. After he was fed, played with, and in bed, Ed would wander over to her apartment if he wasn't already there, they'd drink more, and make love again. The afternoon sex was aggressive and fierce. The middle-of-the night sessions were sweet and tender. It was such an odd couple of weeks as their relationship and their careers hurtled forward on opposite trajectories.
"Hadid was thorough," Olivia said.
"I don't think there's one interaction between me and Gary she didn't ask about," Ed muttered.
"Did the jurors ask you anything?"
"No," he replied, "They looked engaged but not particularly interested. If that makes any sense?"
"It does. Tough to tell if that's a good or bad sign, though."
"It's gonna be a real tough case without a live victim."
"You got him, Ed," Olivia put her hand on his wrist, "On the wire."
Ed grimaced. "That's the thing. At trial, his lawyers can make it seem like I did that in order to deflect my own guilt."
"But you didn't do anything."
"You really believe that?" His eyes searched hers for any hint of deception or unease.
"I believe you made a decision based on what you thought was true. I don't believe you covered up a rape. I don't believe you're responsible for what happened to Rachel. Gary is. Only Gary." Olivia held his hands and kissed the top of each one. "It's time to stop beating yourself up. You can't change the call you made. But you can make things as right as possible. And you're doing it."
Ed managed a weak smile. "I thought the IAB days were done and gone, but it seems like they always have the potential to come back and haunt me."
"Every cop lives with that tiny fear, don't they? If they were any good?"
"I dunno," Ed shrugged and eyed his drink. Olivia graciously let his hands go so he could take a sip. "Some guys hang it up, move somewhere outta the city, buy a grill, put in a pool, and don't give a thought to anything that happened before."
"I'd love to know how one does that."
They smiled at each other. Ed squeezed her thigh and thumbed through the fine layers of the coaster. The bar was getting more crowded and louder, but he and Olivia settled into their own little bubble. In it, words were not necessary. Their connection was iron-clad; their attraction was just as electric as it had been years before when Ed dared to kiss her for the first time. As it turned out, reassuring Ed didn't require elaborate speeches or cloying declarations of love. He needed this moment of unspoken devotion. "I love you" was important, and contrary to what some people believed, could not fall victim to overuse as far as Ed and Olivia were concerned. The bubble, however, was more than a phrase. In the bubble he and Olivia were cocooned in every ounce of respect, trust, and admiration they had for each other. In his previous marriage, Ed had been unnerved by silence. It presaged arguments or indicated Angela's disapproval of something Ed or the girls had done.
With Olivia, silence was reclassified as intimate, precious, and the most comforting state in the world.
…..
Angela stalked around the apartment, opening and closing closet doors and making exaggerated grunts as she shoved winter clothes and home decor into shelves and drawers that, five months ago, amply held these items but now seemed to have less capacity.
"I can take some things down to the storage room," Ed offered.
"I think it's time to seriously consider moving."
Brow furrowed, Ed looked up from the newspaper and assessed the living room and adjacent kitchen. It wasn't the most luxurious or spacious apartment in the world, but the three-bedroom, two-bath, two-level duplex was theirs. They were owners in a city full of renters, and Ed was sure, when it was time to sell, they would make a killing on this property which was located in the heart of rapidly gentrifying and in-demand Hell's Kitchen, or, as they were calling it now, the friendlier, Midtown West. Only, they hadn't planned on selling anytime soon. Sure, they both occasionally complained about no yard, the noise, the fetid, stifling heat of July and August, but who didn't? The city's perks far outweighed its faults, and their daughters never longed for suburban life. In fact, whenever Angela casually brought up a house in the suburbs, both Sarah and Brooke balked. Their concerns were appropriately aligned to friends and the proximity of their favorite stores.
"I'll take the Christmas stuff and the girls' clothes downstairs," Ed offered again.
Angela stomped into the room holding a plastic bin containing, according to the label, Sarah's sweaters. Rather than asking why they were keeping sweaters she most likely have outgrown by next fall, Ed waited for Angela to continue her argument. He wore a blank expression.
"Why are you so resistant to the idea of moving out of the city?"
Ed could have noticed her bird-like nose twitching or her round cheeks turning red or even the way her bobbed hair didn't move an inch, but he got stuck on her use of "resistant." Since earning her MBA and having an article published in a well-respected journal (which they'd celebrated with a night out at 230 Fifth), she employed certain words that had never been a part of her regular vocabulary. The way she accused Ed of being "resistant" reeked of elitism. Ed was proud of Angela and all she'd accomplished. He'd supported her every step of the way. Enthusiastically, even. But he resented the new attitude and demeanor that came along with her new career trajectory.
Taking care to be as calm as possible, Ed folded the paper and placed it on the coffee table. "I'm not resistant," he said, "I'm practical. We both work here. The girls go to school here. All they know is right here. And, financially," Ed wanted to add a barb that she should be aware of the real estate market but he reconsidered at the last second, "It doesn't make sense right now."
Angela had a rebuttal for everything. "There are trains, Ed. Millions of people commute for the comfort of having a house, a yard, some peace and quiet. The girls will adjust. And, we could possibly keep this place, rent it, and buy out there."
"Ang, I'm in Hostage Negotiation. I can't be an hour away. I'd have to live here when I'm on duty." Ed met her eyes. "You don't want that, right?"
Angela didn't answer the question. Instead, she leveled another attack. "You know what your issue is? You don't understand ambition."
"What's ambition have to do with this?"
"It has everything to do with it, Ed." Angela looked desperate now. Her eyes blazed. Her jaw protruded. She was moving, jerking really, talking with her hands, but, shockingly, her bob stayed put. Ed was amazed. "I busted my ass at the firm and took classes for two years. I wrote a paper! I'm already in line for a promotion and coming home, to here, simply isn't what it used to be."
To here?
Simply what it used to be?
Ed wanted to lash out. Particularly at the extraneous use of "simply." But what the fuck was she trying to say?
"What do you mean?" He asked.
"I have no office. I have no place to relax. We're so confined."
They actually weren't confined. The top level of the apartment housed the kitchen, living area, their bedroom and bathroom. The girls were downstairs in what was, functionally and minus kitchen space, their own apartment. They loved it. Considering all of this, Ed calculated Angela's problem was sharing a space with him.
"Angela, moving isn't on the table."
"It is for me."
"Are we thinking of ourselves as I and you now?"
Angela finally dropped the plastic bin. Brooke called out, asking if they were okay.
"We're fine," Angela shouted back. She squinted at Ed. "But we're not, are we?" She asked in a significantly lower voice.
"Are we talking about geography or something else?"
"All of it," Angela left the bin in the middle of the room and stalked to the door. "I'm going for a walk."
The door slammed and Brooke's voice rang out again. "Dad? What are we eating?"
"Go ahead and order something," He replied. "Don't go too crazy."
While the girls debated dinner options down below, Ed sat with his face in his hands. He rubbed vigorously as if irritating his skin would make his wife's transformation make more sense. He didn't understand ambition? Did she notice he hadn't been wearing an officer's uniform in years? That he was Sergeant Tucker? Eventually, if all went well, Lieutenant Tucker? Last year, at the annual NYPD fundraiser, hadn't she seen him flagged down and mingling with people who mattered?
"Dad! We know what we want!"
Ed headed downstairs with his wallet.
They knew what they wanted.
At least someone did.
…..
"BABIES!"
"NoNoNoNoNo!"
"HI NO!"
"No back'fom SCHOOL!"
The twins' welcoming-Noah-home-from-school routine entertained and raised the spirits of any observer. Maggie and Wyatt dropped everything and sprinted to their brother who, in this case, teetered a little, struggling to absorb the weight of his siblings and maintain balance while holding a shopping bag and the smallest of the three take out totes.
"Got some stuff for ya," Noah said. He thanked Justin for taking the food and produced two boxes full of plastic characters from Paw Patrol. "Sare Bear told me you were watching!"
"Ry'ER!"
"CHASE!"
The twins tried to tear into the packages but quickly grew frustrated. Sarah came to the rescue with scissors and extracted the toys. "Here ya go, kiddos. Go crazy." The twins scampered into the living room and reenacted a scene from the cartoon.
In the kitchen, Sarah unpacked the containers of take-out food, and she and Justin took everything to the coffee table. Her only formal dining space was a high top bar table with four chairs. It was a gorgeous, modern, glass and metal set, but not very practical. She and Justin almost never used it for anything other than holding a bowl for keys, and the chairs mostly served as coat racks. Before giving the twins their tacos, Justin removed a bit of the filling and rolled them into tight cylinders, tucking the ends inside to prevent drips.
"Dunky tacos!" Noah said gleefully.
"Justin, you are so smart," Sarah said.
"Super smart!" Noah replied before taking a huge bite.
"So whadja do this afternoon?" Justin asked.
"Got some pastels and markers," Noah said, "Then we went to a pub, then to the toy store, then we jus' walked around and talked. Saw da arch! I haven't seen da arch in a long time, Justy!"
"Good to get out."
"Yeah."
Across from him, Maggie dipped her roll-up into queso and half of the cheese landed on her chin. "Small sister! Get a napkin!" Maggie grinned and dove for the guacamole while Sarah dabbed at the rogue cheese. "Long time ago," Noah continued, "Maggs didn't like av'cado. But now she eats it all up!"
"Wyatt likes it, too," Justin remarked.
"Brother likes everrthing. Even carrots." Noah sighed. He couldn't possibly fathom how anyone could enjoy eating the vegetable, except,of course, for the version Caroline made with pot roast.
"So is it weird being at school and everyone in masks?" Justin asked.
Eyes wide, Noah described the drastic changes. "Verrry weird! You only see da eyes! An' it's hard ta tell if da teacher is mad or happy! And when we play it gets kinda hot. And you know what else? We haveta stay apart in da class and everrwhere! No touching, not even bumping, and we always use san'tizer and wash hands all da time, and, and, we can only use our own supplies! My mom got me new pencils and now I have new art stuff for my pouch. No sharing." Noah burst into sudden laughter.
"What's so funny, Noey?"
"After a c'ronavirus, there's no sharing! Before we were 'posedta share!"
"We are living in weird times," Sarah said.
"Uh-huh."
"But make sure you don't accidentally share the pencils and everything from your pouch. I am one-hundred percent sure you have the best supplies and I'm also sure you are the nicest kid in your class, maybe the school, so, if a kid asks you, even if it's Mia, to borrow something, forget you're nice and say no."
"Okay, those are the rules." Noah was cheerful but squinted at Sarah and quickly turned serious, "You worried about me, Sare Bear?"
She ruffled his freshly salon-cut brown hair, "Nope. I trust you. But I also know it's easy to forget things sometimes. So I guess I low-key worry. Low key means kinda."
"Mommy's worried about Daddy," Noah blurted out.
Startled, Justin looked at Sarah. Her expression indicated she wanted him to ask Noah what he meant, but Justin, with his eyes, urged her to pose the question. They were both wondering what kind of child's version of Ed's day would come out of Noah's mouth.
"Why's she worried?" Sarah punctuated her casual voice by loading up a chip with queso and salsa.
"I dunno," Noah said, "Prolly 'cause Daddy had to be p'lice again today." He turned to Justin and explained, "Daddy usedta be p'lice but it was when I was little," Noah twisted his lips and broke a chip in half, "Maybe Mommy's worried 'cause Daddy went to p'lice and he doesn't have da badge or da gun anymore."
"Ah, yeah," Justin said, "But I bet your Dad still remembers a lot about being police and I bet what he had to do today was a bunch of talking, so he doesn't need a badge or a gun."
Slowly, Noah nodded, accepting Justin's reasoning.
"Noey, did Mommy tell you she was worried?" Sarah asked.
"No, she was on da phone."
"With who?"
"I dunno!" Noah replied as if Sarah should have known better than to ask the question, "I was takin' a bath!"
"Oh. Well, Justin's right. Your Dad only had to go to talk to lawyers today, like Sonny, so he didn't need all that stuff. And, you know what, Noey? Daddy will never, ever, ever forget how to be a cop because he was born to be one. He was cop-ish when he was your age, or so I'm told. By the way, do you still have your badge?"
"Yep! An' Wyatt has Daddy's and Maggs has Mommy's."
"Nice."
"They hadta give back da guns."
Sarah and Justin locked eyes again. They were unsure how to react. Was Noah's response funny? Sad? Normal for a kid with two cops as parents? With a wave of the hand, Sarah signaled to Justin to let it go and they changed subjects. Sarah was starting to wonder if she'd been confused about the plan to return the kids-she swore her Dad said they would pick them up-and was considering sending a check-in text when the intercom buzzed.
"Mommy and Daddy are here!" Noah announced.
Maggie and Wyatt jumped to their feet, ready for another we're so happy to see you pounce.
…
Fifty yards from shore, the jet skis roared back and forth. Ed and Justin drove parallel to one another and took advantage of the calm early afternoon waters to go as fast as they could with Sofia and Maggie sharing the seats. On shore, Olivia and Brooke took pictures and cheered them on until Ed decided the photo op was over and he and Justin headed for the inlet. Brooke kicked at the wet sand, in no hurry to trudge back up to the family's set-up.
"Want to walk?" Olivia asked.
"Sure."
Olivia waved to get the attention of Carmen and Sarah. Sarah appeared to be asleep and Olivia wiggled her fingers in the air, letting Carmen know what they were doing. They walked north, toward the inlet, and Olivia kept a hand on her camera, ready to snap action shots when Ed and Justin reappeared around the jetty.
"Sof sure is brave out there today," Olivia said.
"I cannot believe she stood up!"
"She must have seen the older kids doing it."
"She's starting to come out of her shell little by little," Brooke said, "She even mentioned going to camp when we get back. Day camp, but, camp."
"I'm so glad to hear that. Day camp's a good start. There are a lot of half day sessions, or, at least there were when I looked."
"Maybe Sof can go with Maggie and Wyatt?"
"Of course," Olivia said, "Wyatt's at swim in August though, with his Y team. Maggie's going to the Y, too, but for their regular program-arts, sports-and it's all day."
"I'll ask Sof if she's interested," Brooke said, "Do you think I can still get her in?"
"There's always a cancellation."
"Right. Um, Liv?"
"Yes?"
"I need your opinion about something."
"Sure." Olivia turned her head toward Brooke and smiled at her from under the floppy hat and sunglasses she was wearing.
Brooke took a deep breath, "Earlier, when Sare and I went shopping, we stopped for a drink, of course...no matter what, Sarah's always finding a reason to stop for a drink, and the conversation got extremely serious."
"About Sarah being in over her head?"
"Exactly." Brooke wasn't surprised Olivia automatically knew what they'd discussed. Either Sarah had already confided in Olivia or Olivia still possessed very keen law enforcement instincts. "Well, I reassured her and we left in a good spot, but, well, on the way back and since then, I am almost-God, this sounds terrible-not glad but, uh, a little relieved? That Sarah finally has some semblance of challenge in her life."
It was excruciatingly difficult for Brooke to make this admission. Olivia was proud of her and careful not to sound judgemental. "You're not terrible," Olivia said, "You are a strong woman, a wonderful mother and wife, and you've had your share of challenges-"
"-I don't mean it as a misery loves company type of thing."
"Not at all," Olivia replied, "And I don't see you as miserable. You're human. And I wonder if the relief is not so much that Sarah has challenges, because she has had them before, but this time, handling them in her typical Sarah way doesn't quite work. She needs her sister. She needs her family. I think maybe that's what you're feeling-finally she realizes she needs people and for so long you felt weak when you needed us."
Brooke had no idea if Olivia's interpretation was correct, but it was much better than anything she could come up with. Later she'd reflect and eventually realize she was not the monster of a big sister she thought she was.
"Now I feel guilty I get free therapy from you," Brooke joked.
Olivia gave her a quick, firm shoulder hug, "Never feel guilty. That's what family's for," she said, "And you know you can come to me anytime. I want you to."
"I know," Brooke said. "Thanks, Liv."
"You're so welcome."
…
When it was clear the grand jury proceedings would stretch into the next day, Ed and Olivia gave their full attention to the kids and spent the evening playing games and chase, which always culminated in baby piles and giggle fits. It was the middle of the week, but they were loose with bedtimes and let the twins stay up as late as Noah. After the kids were asleep, they decided to watch a series Sarah suggested and soon became engrossed in Little Fires Everywhere. At the end of the fourth episode, both Ed and Olivia were fighting sleep yet engrossed in the show and reluctantly agreed to continue the next evening.
In bed, they cuddled together in the center of the mattress. Olivia assumed Ed had drifted off to sleep when she heard him slur, "Wednesday and Saturday only? That's sadistic."
"What?"
"The wife," Ed replied in a whisper, "The sex rule."
"Oh, well," Olivia said dismissively, "That's not real life." She felt Ed chuckle and expected him to initiate some form of intimacy, but, minutes later he was breathing heavily and his body slackened. She kissed his arm, the closest part of him at the moment, and closed her eyes. The day turned out better than she expected. Testifying had been therapeutic and helped Ed regain some semblance of control over the situation. When they left Pete's, he was back to his empowered, confident self. The cycle of self-doubt and guilt would probably resurface during the trial, but at least now she knew how to navigate his emotions and give him meaningful support. Having a game plan gave her peace, and they would have the benefit of a brief reprieve between indictment and trial.
She rolled over onto her side and smiled when Ed reflexively moved with her. Olivia knew restless, fitful nights all too well, but they'd crossed an important hurdle today. Ed may not have completely forgiven himself, but, at the very least, he could finally get some sleep.
…
#Tuckson