142.

From the moment she opened her eyes Saturday morning, Brooke felt jumpy. Every sound, both inside and outside, was amplified by the time it reached her ears. The bloopity-bloop of Sofia's toys reverberated inside of her brain, and voices coming from the television that Sonny always kept on boomed and filled the void whenever there was a modicum of silence. Adding to the cacophonous symphony of the apartment was road work outside. The jackhammers started before noon and were still going when she left to meet her Dad and Sarah for lunch. It had been Ed's idea for the three of them to get together and had been a while since he and his adult daughters enjoyed an outing solely for themselves. He and Sarah offered to come to Ft. Greene, but Brooke insisted she didn't mind coming to Manhattan. She missed regular New York City life, including transit, and, other than the trip to Caroline's, hadn't left her neighborhood in several weeks.

"I'm leaving," Brooke popped her head into Sofia's room where Sonny was struggling to get the wiggly one-year-old into pink leggings. "Say hi to your mom for me."

"I will," Sonny replied without taking his eyes off their daughter, "And I'll bring back some sauce I'm sure."

"I'd be shocked if you didn't. See you later," she blew Sofia a kiss, "Bye, bye Sof!"

"Maaaaa!" Sofia bent herself backwards. She wasn't necessarily begging for her mother as much as she was expressing she really didn't want to get dressed.

"Good luck," Brooke quipped to her husband.

"Yeah," he muttered good-naturedly, "I'll need it."

Despite looking forward to spending time with her sister and father, Brooke couldn't shake or even pinpoint the reason for the anxiety plaguing her, so she swallowed one of the pills her doctor had prescribed, her second of the day, made sure she'd downloaded a new album she'd been meaning to listen to, and headed out to catch the G Train.

….

"We'll be at Hair of the Dog," Ed tucked in a navy blue polo and then pulled on a quarter-zip gray sweater. When his head emerged, Olivia was standing in front of him. He smirked and held her around the waist. They swayed side to side for a few minutes.

"I'll miss you," she cooed.

"I'll miss you," he kissed her three times, each with more ferocity, until Olivia's hand was on the back of his head and they were locked in a passionate smooch. The past few days had been full of impromptu intimate moments. The indictment released Ed from some of his guilt and reinvigorated his love for and dedication to his family. He doted on the kids and, most of all, Olivia but made sure to pay attention to her reactions so he could dial it back if she showed signs of becoming annoyed. So far, he was in the clear. "I won't be long," he whispered when the kiss ended but their lips still touching.

"Take your time," she said, "Have fun. And you'll pick up those things from the market on your way back?"

"I got it."

Before leaving, Ed reduced each kid to giggles when he hugged and kissed them goodbye. They'd had a lazy morning and everyone was still in pajamas, so Olivia went about getting everyone cleaned up, dressed, and ready for a lunch outing of their own and a trip to the park. Noah secured his helmet and pulled his scooter out from behind the coat rack. Olivia collapsed the twins' scooters and put them in the stroller's storage basket. She hoped they could find a basketball court or other confined area with room enough for the twins to practice rolling around.

"Gotta have masks, Mommy?" Noah asked.

"Yes," Olivia said.

Noah dunked his hand into the basket they used to store the clean masks and randomly selected a few child-sized versions. He dangled the options in front of the twins. Maggie reached for smiley faces and Wyatt selected stars. Noah helped them with the ear loops before securing his own face covering. Olivia watched the process and wondered how it was possible to be both heartwarmed and gut-punched at the same time.

"Alright, Tucker kiddos, let's go," she said cheerfully.

"To da pub!" Noah said. He opened the door and rolled toward the elevator.

Their voices muffled by the masks, Maggie and Wyatt echoed their brother.

"Da Pub!"

"To da Pubbbbbb!"

Olivia chuckled to herself. Maybe masks weren't her biggest concern. After all, she did have a pub-loving seven-year-old and two equally enthusiastic two-year-olds on her hands.

…

It was warm enough outside for Justin to set up his laptop on the small balcony table, and before Sarah left she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him, and asked about his work. She peered at the screen, saw a document containing a hundred pages, and narrowed her eyes even more to make sure she was seeing the correct number. "Holy shit," she said, "You have a book going on there! You didn't tell me you were writing a book."

Justin craned his neck backwards and grinned, "There're a lot of charts and graphs in there," he humbly replied.

"Ex Nihilo," she read, pronouncing the words slowly. "What does that mean? My Latin sucks."

"Out of nothing," Justin said.

"...but it's unrealistic to expect a sustainable esprit de corps to arise ex nihilo," Sarah's flailed her hands around in front of her face, "I literally understand one word in that sentence."

"Yeah, it's too much," he mumbled.

"No, you're too smart for me," Sarah kissed him again, "Don't leave me for another genius while I'm gone. Love you!"

Sarah closed the patio door and spun around on a heel as she made her way toward the door. Seeing this, Justin smiled and shook his head. He looked down at his wedding band and caught a glimpse of Sarah striding toward Union Square. Even in the crowd he saw her gliding down the sidewalk, cutting a path for herself, always appearing carefree and always with a tiny hint of a smile on her face. If it were possible for a privileged person to genuinely not show or flaunt their good fortune, Sarah did it. Justin figured this was because Sarah hadn't been raised in the world of the elite. Also, she consistently seemed baffled by her exorbitant salary. Whenever they discussed finances, conversations that were always initiated by Justin, she typically scrunched up her face at the numbers. Justin's childhood friends, when they realized he was marrying someone who brought in a hefty paycheck, slapped him on the back as if she were a prize conquest. Justin readily explained she was a treasure-he'd never met anyone as devoted as he was to family. He'd never met anyone who loved so purely and with an intensity that, at first, scared him.

Before she disappeared from view, he sent her a text. He saw her get the notification and read the message. She whirled around and clasped her hands to her heart. She loved him, too.

…

Riding the wave of three holes-in-one, Ed putted his way to mini-golf victory. Always one to encourage good sportsmanship, he fist-bumped the kids and Sonny and Justin on the eighteenth green, but his victory celebration was short-lived. The line for the go karts was short and the kids were eager to get over there.

Before jogging to catch up with the others, Wyatt handed Ed the paperback he'd toted along. It had been partially rolled and stuffed in his shorts pocket. Ed took it and held it up for the other men to see. "Kid loves reading so much and this is how he treats his books," he grumbled, albeit with a proud smile on his face.

"He doesn't do e-books?" Sonny asked.

"Nah. Not even textbooks. We had to order hard copies of 'em."

Justin totally understood. He hated reading on a computer or tablet and he and Sarah eschewed e-readers for their kids. "There's a lot of research out there, shows cognition is better with regular books, I agree. And, if you're reading on an iPad, there's too much temptation to do something else."

"Exactly," Ed replied.

"What's he reading?" Sonny asked, dropping the e-book versus traditional book argument since he was outnumbered.

Ed squinted to read the title, "The Boys Who Challenged Hitler. Hmm. We've been reading Gone, it's the first in a trilogy, but it's five hundred pages and I guess it didn't fit in his pocket," he said, chuckling.

"Light stuff," Sonny joked.

"Yeah," Justin said, holding out his hand, "Mind if I check it out?" He read the synopsis on the back cover. The book had won multiple awards, and Justin knew the title. "I'll have to ask if I can borrow this when he's done."

"Please do," Ed replied, "He loves it when we read what he's reading. He'll be glad to have another person to chat with."

"DAD!" Maggie shouted from the go kart pit. She was in the harness and waving her arms.

Ed, followed by Justin, Sonny, Anthony, and the two little ones in the stroller, went over to the viewing area. There were a few bleachers situated in front of a chain link fence, but they opted to stand. Ed hoisted Anthony onto his shoulders so the little boy could get a better view. They listened to the teenage attendant rattle off safety instructions, including what to do in the event of a spinout or if a car suddenly became disabled. He had to pause after every second or third word to admonish someone for revving the engine. One of the guilty parties was Maggie. She was paying zero attention to the speech. Noah was telling Sofia what to expect. Wyatt had both hands on the wheel and his eyes were laser focused on the lights so he could take off as soon as they were given the green light.

"We taking bets?" Sonny asked. "If so, I'm not taking Noah. Sof looks too nervous." He whistled and waved to his daughter, "You got this, girlie!"

"She prolly needs a race to get used to it," Ed speculated, "She'll be fine."

Justin stayed silent but he had butterflies in his stomach on Sofia's behalf even though he was sure she had many of her own. Seconds before the light turned green, Noah said something that made her laugh. At least, Justin thought, she started the race with some humor.

There were only two non-Tucker cars on the track, so there was a lot of room for the drivers to maneuver around one another. Maggie and Wyatt traded the lead with a mother-daughter duo. Noah stayed comfortably in last place for a few laps but picked up speed in the second half of the race. When the attendant signaled for the last lap, Wyatt was the lead car. Maggie slammed on the gas and passed him, only to be overtaken by the mother and daughter at the finish line. She smacked the padded steering wheel in frustration. Ed could tell by his face that Wyatt was already calculating a way to fare better in race two. Noah as simply relieved that Sofia hadn't had a meltdown. In fact, she ran to Sonny, beaming, before getting back in line.

"Daddy! Did you see that? It was so fun!"

"I saw ya," Sonny said, "It was great. Want me to go with ya next?"

"No," Sofia said, "Noah's gonna take me." She offered her Dad a little wave in consolation and headed back to the line.

Ed gave Sonny a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Welcome to the club, man."

"What club?" he asked, clearly crestfallen.

"The ditched Dads club," Ed replied.

"You seem to be taking it well," Sonny muttered.

"I had Sarah and Brooke, don't forget. I have a thick skin."

"Well, that was brutal. My wound is raw." Sonny spun around as if he were searching for something he'd lost. Finally, he picked up Mari from the stroller. "C'mere, Mar. Let Uncle Sonny borrow you for a little bit."

….

Sarah chose Hair of the Dog for no other reason than it was close to the F Train and it didn't require dressy attire. The interior was unremarkable and smelled faintly of stale beer. On nicer days the large windows were open and let in fresh air, but the late March temperatures were still too cool for the indoor-outdoor conversion. The bar was most popular when there was a big game on, but this time of year was dead time for most professional and college sports. She arrived first, had her choice of seats, and set up at a table overlooking the intersection of Orchard and Stanton. Across the street, Rosario's Pizza was busy with a lunch rush from construction workers in fluorescent vests who Sarah assumed were renovating a nearby former tenement building. The project had been controversial and was allowed to continue only after a compromise to retain the structure's original facade had been reached. She and Justin had followed the story closely. They both shared the same opinions about gentrification and were relieved when the building was spared and given historical marker status to boot. Justin half-joked he could probably delve into archives and find a rationale to save more buildings.

Justin.

Sarah stared into the mid-distance and dreamily thought about her husband. Gawwwd, she loved him. They were opposites in temperament and demeanor but had the same values. That had been the problem with Jeff. Her first husband loved the tangible parts of life more than anything else. Justin and Sarah had the most fun when they were together and doing simple things. They could have a good time in the most mundane activities like going for a walk. Jeff had to be going somewhere; Justin was content to simply be with her.

"Hey kiddo." Ed saw Sarah jump and hesitated before hugging her, "Sorry. Y'alright?"

"Oh, yeah," Sarah embraced him and smiled, "I was thinking about Justin."

"Ohhhh…"

"He's perfect."

"Yes he is."

Sarah frowned at the casual reply.

"I'm serious."

"So am I," Ed narrowed his eyes, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I'm just emotional lately. With everything reopening and sort of being normal. It's, like, I've always, well, in the past few years I've always tried to appreciate things but now I really appreciate everything, like, walking into my office makes me feel so grateful I almost cry. And then the people who have always irritated me irritate me and then I get over it."

Ed laughed and commiserated. "I know what ya mean. I-"

"Hi guys!"

"Jesus Christ," Sarah blurted out, "How is it possible we're, like, right by the door and you're the second person to sneak up on me!" Sarah and Ed both hugged Brooke and flagged down the bartender, the only person working. "Would it help if we moved to the bar?" Sarah asked.

"Either that or you can come up and order," she curtly replied.

"Omigod," Sarah snarled.

"We can stay here," Ed said, "I'll be your waiter."

"Rude as fucking hell," Sarah muttered.

"Let it go," Brooke said.

Sarah's frown was supplanted by a bright smile, "Okay," she said, "Better mood. Happy weekend!" Her phone was on the table and everyone saw the alert-iMessage from Noey. "Omigod, omigod omigod." She opened the message and was greeted with a video of the twins slowly and somewhat clumsily riding their scooters.

"Lookit 'em, Sare Bear!" Noah exclaimed. "They're super good!"

Instinctively, Ed grabbed his phone and, sure enough, Olivia's version of the video had already arrived. In hers, she could be heard coaxing the twins to push off and then praising them with "Go! Go!" and "Good Job!"

"Omigod," Sarah said, furiously typing a message back to Noah, "They are so cute."

"Is this their first time on scooters?" Brooke asked.

"No," Ed replied, "But it's the first time they can actually ride for longer than a couple seconds. The first scooters we got 'em were a little cheap, the wheels kept gettin' stuck. These are better." He watched the video again and put his phone in his jacket pocket. "So, how's everything?" He asked, intentionally shifting the subject so Brooke and Sarah were the focal points.

"Other than the wearing of masks and the perpetual scent of bleach in my office, I think everything's good," Sarah said, "And we're one-hundred percent good for Ireland, so that's even better."

"What about your job?" Brooke asked. Truthfully, she'd never been sure about what Sarah actually did at work, "Is everything okay?"

"Omigod it's more than okay," Sarah said, "We're busier than ever. Ironically, when the markets are volatile, it's better for us. And now we're kind of biding our time until our South American clients get stung. Until then, we're trying to prep them, but, you know, nobody ever thinks anything is serious until it happens to you." Sarah raised her glass to punctuate her point, "And this is true in every single context."

"Another round?" The bartender, her attitude significantly more customer friendly, approached.

"Yes please," Sarah said in a sugary sweet voice, "And a shot. Red Snapper. Thank you!"

"Seriously?" Ed muttered.

"Just one," Sarah reasoned, "and it's weak anyway. I'm just soooo happy to be here!"

….

A few minutes after four a.m., Ed gave up on sleep and trudged into the kitchen where he made a cup of coffee and drank it at the small round table that served almost no purpose other than perpetually being in the way. He ranked the days of the past week in order from bad to worst. Finally pulling the plug on the divorce decision was tough, but it was necessary and Ed actually breathed a sigh of relief afterward. Telling the girls was difficult. Ed hated failing in front of his daughters and divorce was a monumental failure. However, Brooke and Sarah took the news with stony expressions and Ed wondered if they'd suspected a split. Many of their friends had divorced parents, so maybe in some weird tween sense of reality, they felt like they finally fit in among their peers. The worst day, though, was two nights ago when he was summoned to a standoff downtown.

The call came in after the eleven o'clock news. Brooke and Sarah were fast asleep in their bedrooms, so he dressed and called a kindly neighbor who had occasionally kept an eye on the girls over the years. Luckily, she was awake and willing to camp out on the couch until he returned. He sped to the scene and spent the next eighteen hours negotiating and commanding maneuvers until, finally, the team entered the apartment and subdued the perp. Back at the precinct, Ed listened to a few guys on the phone with their wives or girlfriends. He was surrounded by officers who had been missed. Their significant others had been sitting by their phones, on edge, through a sleepless night and restless morning, waiting for the word that their loved ones were okay and headed home. Angela had never been that type of partner. A middle-of-the night or middle-of-dinner call was always treated as an inconvenience. A call home afterward was met with questions such as "will you be back in time to pick up the girls from school" or even a run-of-the-mill, "okay." No "thank God you're alive" or "please hurry home I miss you". Ed shielded the girls as much as possible from the danger of his work, so they were always happy to see him but never with a sense of relief. Angela knew better, but she had grown to resent everything about the NYPD.

The night of the call ended up being the worst day of all because when the dust settled, Ed came to the heartbreaking conclusion that Brooke and Sarah would have to live with their mother. Though she'd turned into a workaholic, Angela's schedule was consistent and predictable. Ed would become a weekend and vacation Dad. Maybe when they entered high school they could return, but soon they would make friends, settle in, and get used to their new town. Uprooting them twice in a few years wouldn't be fair.

He leaned on his elbows and rubbed his temples. They'd implied the girls would have some choices in this new normal, but Angela was right. Kids didn't get to choose, not really, they were at the mercy of adult decisions, for better or for worse.

….

When Brooke wondered how it was possible her father and sister seemed semi-sober when she felt drunk, she remembered the pills she'd taken and how she hadn't eaten anything since the late dinner she and Sonny shared the night before. They were having a good time, laughing, joking, and reminiscing, and Brooke didn't realize she was well on her way to being drunk until she went to the restroom and saw the mosaic floor tiles spinning. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, hoping at least her Dad wouldn't notice she was a little unsteady, but neither he nor Sarah batted an eye when she returned. After successfully not talking about the little Tuckers for over an hour, Ed eventually asked the girls if they thought the school had crossed a line by individually counseling students.

"Schools are supposed to watch out for mental health, to alert parents," Sarah said, "I don't think I agree with them kind of forcing the issue, but, then again, Noey was worried."

"It kills me he didn't tell us," Ed replied, "He's seven. He thought it was better to not say anything? That bothers me. It bothers Liv. So I suppose the result works out for the best..."

"You both talked to him, too, right?" Brooke asked.

"We both did," Ed replied, "I've never seen him so upset. We gotta be careful...he picks up on so much and I guess he didn't know what to do when he knew Liv was worried and it was about me."

"Have you thought about getting him into regular therapy?" Brooke asked.

Both Ed and Sarah responded by staring at her with inquisitive, borderline-accusatory eyes. Brooke felt obligated to offer a rationale since they both seemed to disagree with the suggestion.

"It wouldn't hurt, and a professional could pinpoint some hidden signs," she said, growing more confident drawing on her classroom experience. However, the alcohol and drugs rendered her brain fuzzy and foggy and she either did not pick up on Ed's and Sarah's disapproving looks or she completely misinterpreted the meaning of their frowns.

"Given his history, it might be good to catch those red flags sooner rather than later." She added and sipped her vodka tonic, expecting someone else to speak, but she was met only with cold stares.

Ed picked up the running tab the impatient bartender deposited on the table after delivering each round. "I'm gonna head out," he said as he tossed a few twenties on the table. You two have a good night."

He was gone so quickly neither Sarah nor Brooke had time to protest.

Sarah glared at Brooke. "What the fuck is your problem?"

Brooke's head was spinning and she was tongue tied.

"We go out all together, everything's great and then you tell Dad you think his kid's the demon child? That he might have issues? Shit, Brooke, I thought I told you to keep those fucking ideas to yourself?"

"I, uh-I didn't-"

"-No," Sarah yanked her jacket from the back of the chair.

"Sare-"

"Fuck you," Sarah sneered and started to leave but turned on her heel, "I'm really the least of your problems now, you realize that right? Once Livvie finds out how you really feel about her son, you're never going to see her or anyone else again," Exasperated, Sarah stared at the ceiling and clenched her fists, "You just can't fucking...let some things go…" she trailed off and stalked out.

Brooke wanted to cry, but didn't. She paid the bill, moved to the bar and ordered another drink. Sonny and Sofia would probably end up coming home very late or even spending the night in Staten Island. No one, especially not now, was expecting her anywhere. She knew she should probably go home, clear her head, sleep a little, and plan an apology tour. But was what she said that bad? Sarah did have a habit of overreacting.

The bar started to fill with people and Brooke eavesdropped on their conversations. Real estate. Music. An overbearing boss. A shift change brought on an older, friendlier bartender. Brooke traded the vodka tonic for beer and sat up straighter. Early nineties pop music blasted from the speakers. The energy in the place picked up, and boosted Brooke's spirits. She was sure her inebriated slip would be forgiven and forgotten and she'd get back in her Dad's and Sarah's good graces. They'd never stayed mad at each other very long. What was that adage? Life's too short? Yes, it would all be okay, give it a little time, and normalcy would return.

….

#Tuckson