162.
Olivia wasted no time bringing up the showbiz dilemma. Wyatt wasn't't even out of his jacket before she replayed the entire conversation with the showrunner for Ed. "So," she said, "They want Wyatt for the rest of the season, and I'm wondering, if it'll be for the entire series. What do you think?" Olivia wasn't sure what to expect from Ed regarding Wyatt's acting stint, but she thought he'd be only slightly more willing than she to entertain the possibility of an ongoing gig. As she quickly learned, Ed was all in.
"This show and that'll be it," Ed replied with finality, "We'll negotiate a number, enough to pay for college, and put it in an account for him. As long as we say no to any other offer and make sure everyone understands that's what's happening, I only see an upside, Liv." Wyatt was playing with his cars at Ed's feet and blissfully oblivious to college funds, his mother's uncertainty, and even his father's pride. He looked up at Ed, smiled, and offered him one of the cars. "Thanks, bud," Ed replied, "Where should we go?"
"Ro'trip," Wyatt replied matter-of-factly.
Ed laughed, but, seconds later, a knot formed in his stomach. Where had time gone? It seemed like mere seconds ago that Wyatt and Maggie were small enough to each curl into one of his arms. Ed remembered the first time one of the twins gripped his finger while he fed them, how he couldn't take his eyes off of the babies, how they were so...new and precious and perfect. Now they were almost three years old, starting preschool in the fall, and Ed had used the word college in reference to Wyatt. He desperately needed time to slow down.
"Ed?"
"Oh, sorry," Ed was squeezing the car so tightly its shape left an imprint in his palm. "What were you sayin?"
Olivia narrowed her eyes, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I uh, got caught up in, well," Ed put the car on the floor and Wyatt, assuming his Dad would sit down eventually and play with it and him, left it alone. "They're getting so big so fast. I can't believe I'm thinking about sending them to college."
"Saving for college," Olivia corrected, "But, I know." She wrapped her arms around him and put her head on his shoulder, "So, I'll call and set up a meeting about his contract? Do you think we should bring a lawyer? An agent?"
"Nah," Ed replied, "We're not trying to make millions. And you said they're good people, right?"
"Right."
"I trust your judgement. I'm not worried. And if we don't like where we get with them, then, maybe we'll need to bring in heavier artillery."
Olivia kissed him and cooed, "You're so wise."
He played with a strand of her hair. "You're so beautiful."
"You," she kissed him again, "Are adorable."
…
In the weeks leading up to Labor Day, two strong storms targeted the New York metropolitan area, threatening infrastructure and throwing wrenches into outdoor activities and events. The weather forced Noah back to the city and to his job in the Transportation Department. The city's subway tunnels were a perpetual source of concern when heavy rains swept through the area, and, at one point, he was working eighteen-hour days as he and the team constantly absorbed briefings from engineers and technicians. At the beach house, the television was on and tuned to the news all day, even when no one was watching. Ed and Olivia weren't terribly worried, but they liked to keep tabs on any details that could possibly concern their son. So, when Maggie happened to pass through the living room on her way out to the porch one afternoon and saw her brother on the screen, she was shocked her parents weren't watching.
"Mom!"
"What!" Olivia, followed by Ed, rushed inside.
"Noah's on TV!"
"Oh my God!"
The three of them stood in the middle of the living room, glued to the television, as Noah fielded questions from reporters. Though he had been operating on only a couple hours' sleep per night, he retained his youthful glow and spoke with energy and optimism. Ed noted how regal he looked in his navy suit, bright white shirt, and expertly knotted kelly green tie. Olivia smiled. Noah had inherited his father's sense of style when it came to work wear-simple, interchangeable, timeless pieces, impeccably pressed and dry cleaned, a lot of blue and black, and, very often, a familiar pop of green. Olivia noticed the New York City flag pin on his lapel and wondered if he wore the accessory every day or had put it on for his media appearance.
Noah's voice sounded familiar yet oddly professional. A few times Olivia had trouble believing it was her son talking. However, when he smiled, he let his guard down a bit and resembled his younger self. The smile and sparkle in his eyes were the same as they'd been when he strolled out of his classrooms after school surrounded by a cluster of friends or ran around with his siblings in the parks of Manhattan.
The press conference didn't last long; however, Ed and Olivia remained entranced, even after it concluded. Maggie waved her hands in front of their faces. "Hell-lo! Mom? Dad? Are you in there?"
"I wonder why he didn't tell us he was going to be on," Olivia murmured.
"Maybe it was last minute," Ed surmised.
"Maybe he didn't want to make you nervous," Maggie suggested.
Ed and Olivia looked at one another and nodded. That was certainly a possibility.
"I'm going to call him," Olivia said.
"Liv, he's probably busy. He-"
Reeling in his wife never worked particularly well, especially when she was laser-focused on a particular objective. This time, though, he couldn't finish the objection because Olivia's phone rang and Noah's picture popped up on the screen. She answered on speaker.
"Hey honey."
"Hey Mom! Were you-"
Olivia didn't let him finish the question. "We saw you on the news! You did such a great job honey! I can't believe it! I'm so proud of you! We're so proud of you! Maggie's here too, and your Dad of course." Olivia was practically jumping up and down with excitement.
"I found out this morning I'd be giving the presser but I didn't want you to be nervous."
"Told ya," Maggie said under her breath.
"Bud, you were rock solid," Ed said.
"Thanks, Dad."
"Is this gonna be a regular thing?"
"I don't know," Noah replied. He muttered a few words to someone who must have been standing nearby, "But next time I can give you advance notice. That is, if I get any. And if you want it."
"Please!" Olivia said. "I don't want to miss anything!"
"I'll let you know next time, Mom. Promise."
"How's everything else?" Ed asked.
"Good. Mia started rehearsals. I'm sure I'll hear all about it tonight."
Maggie snapped to attention. "What's going on tonight?" She asked.
"We're having dinner," Noah replied. "Should I change the reservation for three?"
"No," Maggie replied sassily.
"Kids," Ed warned.
"You two have a nice dinner," Olivia said, "Get back to work, I'm sure you're busy. And, Noah honey, I'm, we're, so proud of you."
"Thanks, Mom. Love you."
"Love you too, sweet boy." She shot Maggie a look of light-hearted reproval. It didn't matter how old her kids were, "sweet boy", "sweet girl", and "sweet Wyatt" were never going to leave her vernacular.
…..
Ed tried to get comfortable in the armchair which seemed like the most logical place to sit in the office, but its stiff cushions and smooth oak armrests weren't the most ergonomically sound features in the world. He had been in offices like these before but could not remember the furniture being so uninviting. Perhaps that was the new shrink strategy, he thought. Make the guy so fidgety and desirous of getting out of there that he'd spill his guts within seconds. Only, in this instance, Ed needed no prompting or incentives. He wasn't a reluctant patient. Unlike the other times, he initiated the visit, and the only reservations he harbored were related to the fact that he did not tell Olivia about the session.
In addition to the chair's underlying purpose, Ed wondered about the woman, the therapist, sitting across from him. At first, he thought he would be more at ease talking to another man, but he reconsidered before calling any of the recommended names on the list he'd been given by a former colleague. He really was using this as a warm-up to talk to Olivia, so he ultimately chose a woman. Frances, oddly enough, looked like a female version of Peter Lindstrom. All she needed was her bobbed hair cut and she could have been his doppelganger.
After Ed talked about his background and introduced himself, he explained he wasn't interested in a series of sessions. He had one major demon he couldn't quite shake and he needed to get it all out so when he told his wife he didn't totally freak her out.
"Do you do this often?" She asked.
"No," Ed replied, "Well, only after a shooting or a tough-"
"No," Frances interrupted, "Do you keep things from your wife in order to avoid upsetting her?"
Ed assumed, by asking for and paying for the appointment, he would have the upper hand and be able to guide in the conversation. He quickly realized that wasn't exactly the case. "We tell each other everything," he answered. "It took a while to get there, but, yeah, we don't keep anything from each other. And I'm not going to keep this from her either, I...I just need to, well," he looked at Frances pleadingly, "I need to hear myself say it first."
"What is it?"
"Lately, for a few weeks now, I've been thinking too much about death. For a couple of different reasons I'm sure. My mother, she's in her eighties, and I have this feeling that she's not long for this world. And I ran into someone not too long ago who brought back some memories of a hairy situation I had on the job."
"You're also an older father of three young children. Does that bother you?"
"It used to. There's always gonna be fear there. But I had that same fear with my older two. You want to see them grow up, become their own people. I'll be an old man when my sons and my younger daughter are at that point. I know that. My wife and I knew going in. But we decided it was better to give them thirty or so years of unconditional love than not do it at all." Ed was surprised how sentimental he was getting with this stranger, but it felt good to talk freely and know whatever he revealed would stay right here in the space between him and Frances. "I guess," he said weakly, "I've just been reminded lately how precious life is."
"And I'm sure the virus didn't help."
"Now that you mention it…"
"Ed, why are you so afraid to talk to your wife about this?"
"She's so strong," he grinned sheepishly and shook his head back and forth. His elbows were on his knees and his hands drooped toward the floor. "But I always feel like it's my role to be a little stronger. She's spent her whole life, like," Ed balled a fist and hit the opposite palm, "Fighting, surviving, being...superhuman...and she finally let herself step back and slow down, relax, and enjoy life instead of battling it all the time, so, well, I like to shoulder most of the hard stuff if I can. But this has to do with me. I need her to know she doesn't have to worry."
"Part of loving people is worrying about them."
Ed shrugged.
"It sounds like you and your wife trust each other," she said.
"We do."
"You're lucky."
"I am. I don't know why, but I am."
"Do you think that's part of it?" Frances asked, "You don't think you deserve her?"
Ed shot her a genuine smile, "I don't think any amount of therapy will convince me I deserve her," he said, "But that's okay. I kinda like waking up in the morning with a new opportunity to prove I'm worthy of her."
Frances had been, according to Ed, doing her best to remain unemotional, but she was clearly moved by Ed's remark. "Have you ever told her you wake up feeling that way?"
"I don't know," Ed replied, "Maybe not in so many words."
"Consider saying it in those words."
…
Prisons operated much too slowly for Tucker's liking. Even the most basic tasks, such as locating an inmate in a computerized database, took an agonizingly long time. The system was laggy and the desk clerk moved in slow motion. Even the corrections officers dragged their feet as they moved up and down the concrete didn't matter that Ed and Cole were there from the city on urgent business and did their best to emit an air of impatience. They were forced to operate on Green Haven's time. Ed wished he still smoked. It was a lot easier to be bored and annoyed if you were standing outside looking out at the gray landscape, puffing on a cigarette, and contemplating your place in the world.
The visit turned out to be useless. Whoever had their claws in their witness was wielding power Tucker and Draper couldn't counter. The second stop didn't yield anything worthwhile either. As Tucker steered the sedan down the two-lane highway which would eventually take them to the interstate, Cole remarked they should've brought his fishing boat. That way, he figured, the day wouldn't have been a total bust. Soon, the tree-lined road gave way to the next small town and its two-block long strip of antique stores, quaint shops, and, to both Tucker's and Draper's delight, a bar. On their way in, one of the window displays attracted Ed's attention, and, two drinks later, as he and Cole were leaving, he dragged his partner inside of the shop.
The clerk greeted them with a friendly yet curious hello and eyed them warily as they moved among the rustic wooden shelves. Ed inspected locally sourced honeys, jams, and syrups. In a small section geared to men, a display showcased small green bottles of woodsy-scented shaving cream and aftershave. Minutes later, his hands were full and he dumped two aftershaves, a bag of candy, two bottles of syrup, and a toy logging truck onto the counter. Ed felt Cole's smirk before he turned around and saw it with his own eyes.
"Told her I'd bring something," he said with a shrug. His face was hot and he was sure it was beet red.
"Souvenirs from a day trip?" Cole asked. "Getting serious."
Ed thanked the clerk and admired the sturdy cloth bag as he and Cole strolled out. "I'd rather not give us a label," he said.
"Well, whatever it is, it's treating you well. I like seeing you shop for the woman you love."
Ed rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. "We'll see, man," he said, stowing the bag in the back of the sedan, "We'll see."
…
The reason why Ed had an extra couple of hours to see the therapist was because Olivia had a desert-sampling appointment with G and the caterer, and she brought Maggie and Wyatt along. Who better to test sweet treats than the twins who were often showered with their fair shares of cookies, cakes, and ice cream? The meeting didn't take long, but, when it was time to say goodbye, Olivia had to use extra wipes to clean the twins' hands and faces.
"Which way are you headed?" Olivia asked G before they exited the building.
"Uptown," G replied, "Back to the office."
"Want to walk with us to the next stop?" Olivia asked. They were less than a block away from the subway entrance she assumed G was taking. "We're going to get Noah from school but we have some time."
"Sure."
Having met with Barba twice more since the initial meeting, G found herself at ease with Olivia and confident about the next steps. She relayed the updates in a businesslike manner and expressed surprise that Barba hadn't updated her already.
"Attorney-client privilege," Olivia explained, "He can't. And, you're under no obligation to tell me either. I'm just thrilled you are making progress. But, I'm also always willing to listen and do what I can to help you."
"I, um," G stammered a bit, "I want to thank you Olivia. I'm feeling better, and I don't know if that would've been possible without you going the extra mile for me. I really appreciate it. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
"We're not keeping score," Olivia said. "And we consider you part of our family. I'll prove it to you. Maggie? Wyatt?"
The twins wiggled their bodies against their stroller harnesses, craned their necks backward, and peered up at their mother expectantly.
"Who's this?" She asked, pointing at G.
" OUR GEEE!" Maggie exclaimed.
Wyatt giggled. It was a giggle that gave off the impression he may have perceived the question to be a little on the unnecessary side. After all, they knew G very well. His mother's one-question quiz was a no-brainer.
G's smile gave Olivia a great deal of satisfaction as did the twins hugging her goodbye before she descended the subway stairs. Pushing the stroller, she practically floated in the direction of Noah's school and listened intently when he relayed the highlights of his day on the way home. Content and happy, she gave a hearty hello to the doorman and nearly bounced at the anticipation of seeing Ed and spending the rest of the afternoon and evening together. When they disembarked on their floor, a neighbor was waiting for the elevator with his road bicycle at his side and Noah asked if he could ride his own bike later. Olivia assured him he could.
There was so much activity in the Tucker apartment-Noah asking about the bike, the twins talking about their afternoon and "banna pudding", Olivia poking through Noah's backpack-that she didn't notice how quiet and stiff Ed was acting. She also didn't have much of a chance to observe the unusual behavior. Noah chartered on about his bike still being stored in their unit downstairs, and Ed suggested they go and get it street-ready at that moment.
"If ya don't mind," He whispered in Olivia's ear.
"Of course not," she replied.
"We won't be long. Just a little tune up and test drive."
"Take your time," she said. "Maggie and Wyatt probably need bikes of their own. Maybe for an early birthday present. Sweet twins? Let's look at bikes on Mommy's computer."
"I RI BIKE FASS!" Wyatt shouted.
"Zoomzoomzoom!" Maggie zigzagged across the floor.
Ed glanced at the twins and then at Olivia, silently making sure she was okay on her own with the hyper his mind, she gave him a kiss and mentioned they had not had a nap. "My money's on them crashing in fifteen minutes," she said.
"What are we betting?" Ed asked mischievously.
Olivia gently jabbed his ribs with her elbow, "You're terrible."
…...
Noah observed with interest as Ed adjusted the seat and the handlebars on his bicycle. After Ed made sure both parts were straight and tight, he buffed a few spots with a rag and added some air to the front tire with a hand pump their doormen kept behind the concierge desk.
"Daddy," Noah said, "You're a good bike m'chanic."
"Thanks, bud."
Noah mounted the bike and tugged on the straps of his helmet. "I can ride down da block?"
"Sure pal. Try it out."
Noah pedaled away and Ed watched him so closely he barely blinked. Noah rode the bike confidently, and, on his way back, Ed noticed Noah smiled at people he passed. It was early in the evening and people were headed home from work toting shopping bags or take-out dinners. The sun was setting and cast a picturesque glow onto their block. In Ed's opinion, the weather was perfect-low-sixties, a little breezy, warm enough to assure folks winter was over but not so warm as to remind everyone of how stifling July and August temperatures could be.
"How is it?" Ed asked when Noah skidded to a stop in front of him.
"Good! I can touch," Noah stomped the cement with his sneakers, "And it steers really good. C'I go around da whole block?"
"You can," Ed replied, "But when you get to the corners you gotta wait for me."
"Kay."
Ed semi-chased Noah around three-quarters of the block, but when they got to the Ninth Avenue side, Noah pedaled so slowly Ed could keep up with him at a fast walking pace. Eventually, Noah stopped at a bodega with a robust flower display out front and studied the offerings while leaning forward on his handlebars.
"Whatcha lookin for?" Ed asked.
"Sare Bear said I haveta get Mia flowers for her r'cital."
"Oh," Ed smiled but answered in a serious tone, "Yeah, you should give her flowers. That's what you do when someone you know gives a good performance."
"You give Mommy flowers and she doesn't have r'citals."
"True. There are lots of reasons to give flowers. And you don't even need a reason. It can just be because you care about the person."
"Mia likes pink and purple," Noah said, "But her dress she said it's red, so I should give her red flowers."
"Good plan. But we have to wait and get them on that night."
"I'm jus' lookin' Daddy."
"Take your time, bud."
After another minute, Noah looked up at Ed and asked, "You think da r'cital's gonna be boring?"
Ed chuckled and replied, "I don't think so. We like music, so even if we don't know all of the kids, it'll be nice to listen."
"Yeah…am I gonna have a r'cital ever?"
"Well, pal, recitals are for dancers and people who play instruments or sing and it's usually when they take special lessons for those things. So, even if you don't have a recital, you've already had a lot of times when you've been on stage and had to perform in front of people. You've been the emcee a lot, remember? And you gave that great speech at Mommy's party?"
"Oh yeah," Noah replied with a grin, "I like talking in da micr'phone!"
"And you're good at it."
"Probably at da end of first grade I'll have another speech."
"Maybe."
"But I don't want flowers after."
Amused, Ed asked, "What would ya like instead?"
Noah considered his options for a few seconds and said, "Max Brenner!"
Ed put his hand on Noah's helmet and gently rocked his head back and forth. "You got it," he said, "Max Brenner it is."
"Thanks," Noah said, "You think we should bring Mommy some flowers?"
"I always think we should bring her flowers, bud, but I didn't bring my wallet."
"I have mine," Noah patted his back pocket and produced his own wallet, a smaller version of Ed's. "I have a Hamilton and somea dese ones."
"Since you're buyin, you pick them."
"Kay," Noah replied, "But can you carry 'em?"
"Yup."
Noah flashed one of his most endearing, sweetest smiles. By the look on his face, one would've thought Ed was doing him the most generous favor in the world. "Thanks, Daddy," he said, "You're a good guy."
Ed couldn't help but laugh. Where did the kid get these things?
…..
#Tuckson