Monday, January 10th, 2023

Office of Cabot & Associates, LLC

Manhattan, New York

8:27 AM

Aurora Stabler

Being the child of divorced parents, I've learned is not for the faint of heart.

But what's even more complicated is being the child of divorced parents that are still madly in love with each other.

That fucking sucks.

The love that the two have for one another is still clearly visible, like an unspoken bond that they will always share, no matter how many years have passed between them. Each time one steals a glance at the other, the immeasurable amount of grief can be read all over their faces, and the scars of their past hang over both like a thick cloud of smoke.

This morning, the pair are only separated by arm's length. The marble table in the conference room is just large enough to sit the five of us comfortably; my father and I are on one side, closest to the door, and my mother and identical twin sister, Evelyn, sit opposite on the side most relative to the window. At the head of the table sits the attorney that my sister and I have hired out of spite as a last-ditch effort for our parents to allow us to live the everyday life that we both so desperately longed for.

Despite being a few months shy of 19 years old, I've sat in rooms like this one with attorneys like him more times than I'd like to admit. This time, however, was supposed to be a good thing. This was step 20-something of our well-crafted, genius idea to get our parents back together. We thought that this was going to fix everything that happened to them all of those years ago. Our goal was to bring them together, but unfortunately, all that either of us did was tear them farther apart. All that she and I had to do today to prevent our parents from being found in contempt of court was explain our sides of the story and why we did what we did. After that, life would go on.

Now that we knew our parent's cruel little secret, would life ever go on? Would it ever be the same?

Now that reality is staring both of them in the face, they have to work together to explain to us why this agreement was even made in the first place and how, out of all of the other arrangements in the world, this made the most sense; they have to own up to the fact that they never honestly stopped loving each other.

The attorney clicks his pen repetitively and opens up a fresh sheet of paper on his legal pad. "Someone has to say something. We have been sitting here for 20 minutes, and no one has said a word."

This morning is the first time that the four of us have been in the same vicinity since the tumultuous fight that occurred on New Year's Eve. Our blissful reunion had ended just as quickly as it began. There was no slamming of doors, no vulgar remarks, and none of us were physically injured. Hearts were just broken, and distance was placed further between us than it had been before, making this situation far more real and not the fairytale that we had conjured up in our heads.

I remember Evelyn texting me after the fight at our mom's apartment, cussing at me, and telling me how much my plan sucked. This entire thing was my idea in the first place. Now that we were getting sued by our parents and the state of New York, my plan, indeed, did suck. It was evident that our parents did not want to be together; they did not want the two of us to get stuck in their love triangle. This was the whole reason that the custody agreement was set in motion in the first place. Our parents were looking out for us. That is what parents do: they look out for their children.

Well, that's what they're supposed to do.

Their intentions may have been good; it was just the way that they went about it that was wrong.

Until October this past year, my dad and I were against the world. To my knowledge, he was the only parent that I had. He never talked about her — my mom. Our mom, I think to myself, as I look across the table at my sister, a plea for help and forgiveness written across her face. Our mom that we both look so much alike — that I act so much like, minus a few things. Cue the mental illness passed down from my father's side and nasty drinking habit passed down from my maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather.

But I was strong like her — Olivia Benson. Captain Olivia Benson, the first woman captain of the Manhattan division of the Special Victims Unit. The woman that didn't take shit from anyone, the woman that learned long ago that a man on her arm did not define her worth. The woman that had told herself her entire life that she wasn't allowed to be happy; the woman that no one ever thought would be able to raise a daughter and a son and still work full time and somehow manage to keep them all alive long enough to the point that they were on the path of doing extraordinary things.

My dad never talked about her; he never kept pictures of her around the house. It was probably a good thing, I had first thought, because I looked like a miniature version of the woman that ripped his heart from his chest, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it long enough for it to stop beating. Evelyn and I were both blessed with her natural olive skin and soft brunette hair, which both of us had done our best to cover up with a mediocre highlight job. We both had her same build; tall, real tall, like tall to the point that I'd get stared at if I wore high heels. Evelyn was blessed with the thin Benson gene, while the curse of the curvy Stabler gene had haunted me since puberty, though having kids had brought out hidden curves that our mom had grown to love and accept. We both had his eyes; Olivia described them, a piercing shade of blue, the same shade of blue that could break her heart all over again if she stared too long at either of us.

How could she look a judge in the eyes all of those years ago and tell him that she didn't want me?

Apparently, I have the story wrong, and that's not how it happened, but that's just one of the many reasons why we are here today.

Life was easier when there weren't two other people out there that wanted to know me as much as I wanted to know them. Three, if you count Noah.

Okay, maybe not easier, but lighter. Life was much lighter when I didn't have to worry about pleasing a whole other family that was pretending to love me.

The attorney stares at the four of us again before diverting his attention to the blank paper before him. He taps his pen a few times and lets out an exaggerated sigh, undoubtedly growing more flustered as the moments tick on. "Look. I'm doing this as a favor. If you all want to amend this…."

"I don't," my dad parrots back, assertive in his tone. He crosses his arms over his chest, creating a small crease in his baby blue button-up dress shirt. He clears his throat and straightens his tie, and leans back in the leather office chair.

"…if everyone but Officer Stabler wants to amend this, someone has to say something. Anything. I need to be able to convey to the courts that you girls did what you did because you did not know the terms of the agreement and that you're serious about amending this thing."

"I am not serious about amending this. We were acting in their best interest when this agreement was established. Olivia and I set this agreement in place so that we never had to speak to each other again — let alone be sitting in the same room as one another." He shakes his head. "We wanted to avoid this exact situation at all costs." He folds his hands in front of him as he finishes his rant. From the corner of my eye, I offer him a death glare that daggers right through his chest. Noticing how visibly upset Evelyn and I have become with his spoken words, he turns his body to face me and places his hand lovingly in mine. I pull away and cross my arms over my chest, mirroring his image from moments ago. "Aurora Marie Stabler… look at me." He places his hand on my shoulder as I wince once more. "Honey, look. I know that you want to be able to spend time with your brother and sister. I know that you want to have the chance to know your mom… to spend the occasional holiday breaks and summers here. But, with everything that has gone on, this change might be too much for you."

Everything that has gone on, I've learned, is my dad's polite way of saying the phrase bipolar disorder diagnosis. The tension in the room can be cut with a knife, and to break it, I scoff loudly and roll my eyes as far back as they will go. It's always been about him and protecting his heart. It's never been about me. I smack my lips loudly, and huff as the echo from my actions fills the enclosed space that the five of us have been shoved into. The noise startles the attorney and jolts him back into an upright position in his chair. He clicks his pen again. "Captain Benson, a little help here?" When she doesn't have the courage — the words — to answer, he tosses his pen down on the table in front of him, watching as it bounces a few times before it finds its final resting place. "We want to be able to put this in front of the judge before the girls leave for Knoxville next week." He cannot stop us from spending time together once we cross state lines. "I have to have this on his desk by Wednesday afternoon at the latest so we can hold a trial before the weekend."

"I have to get back to work," Olivia replies. "I can't stay past noon today." Evelyn throws her hands and slams them down in front of her. "Is there something I can sign that proves I was here and that I'm okay with an amendment?"

"Mom," Evelyn sighs. "This is reallyimportant. This is about your children, for God's sake! Work can fucking wait."

"Evelyn Margaret," Olivia seethes.

"Language," my dad replies at the same time.

"I'm just saying," she begins. "You should have just married SVU."

My dad bellows a loud laugh, shaking his head as he does so. "What's so funny, El?" Olivia asks.

"Oh, Liv, it's been the same song and dance since I've known you. You can't be away from work for more than an hour before you start to get the itch to go back."

"Fuck you."

"Language!" Evelyn and I parrot back at the same time.

"Screw you, Elliot Stabler. You haven't been in my life for seventeen years. I've always put Evelyn and Noah before anything else."

"Don't let her fool you," my dad replies lowly. "Her one true love will always be her career."

"Oh, and you think you're so perfect, huh, Stabler?" she diverts her attention to the heavy snow falling outside the window. "Is this really where you want to do this? Here, in front of him and our girls?"

"Look around, Olivia! That's exactly what we are supposed to be doing here today! We are being sued. Your shield is being threatened. If you want to go toe to toe and give into this bullshit, then be my guest. His and her children were your idea and…."

"Officer Stabler," the attorney interjects in a low tone.

"And what, Elliot?" Her eyes look at him once more as his gaze meets the door. Her mouth curls into a sly grin as she says, "you couldn't stand to be married to a woman that didn't fit your mold of a 1950s housewife?"

"Captain Benson."

"No, I couldn't stand to be married to you—just you, Liv. I couldn't stand to be married to any version of you. I couldn't let our daughters grow up with you as a role model."

"Right. Because you did a great job with Aurora. The girl is 18 years old and has a rap sheet the size of a children's book!"

"That's enough. Both of you," the attorney states. There was no way we were getting out of here anytime soon, and if we did, none of us would be fully intact. "Let's start at the beginning," he says, changing the subject. He runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair and looks at my mom. "Captain Benson," he begins, pressing the red button on the tape recorder before him. "Let's start with the night you met."

"The night who met?" She pulls Evelyn from her trance. I register that she's thinking the same thing I am.

I wish I were anywhere but here right now.

We tried our best, but we failed.

There's no hope for the two of them. They wholeheartedly do not want to be together.

They don't love each other anymore. I don't think they ever really did.

Fuck, I need a cigarette. I bite the inside of my cheeks — a bad habit I'd picked up since I stopped smoking three weeks ago. The attorney offers my mom a small smile. "The night you met your hus — "

"Ex-husband," my father emphasizes.

"Elliot," the attorney seethes.

"Dad, shut up," I whisper loudly, kicking his foot under the table out of frustration.

The cheek-biting turns into nail-biting as the attorney says, "how did the two of you meet?"

"You know how we met," my dad rapid fires at him.

"I know I do," the attorney nods, "but I need the story from one of you. I need something to give to the judge to mend this… pardon my French, girls… this fucking disaster of a custody agreement. I don't know one attorney that would have been okay with drafting a document like this…."

"Why don't you ask your boss?" Olivia says inaudibly under her breath. My dad doesn't pick up on it.

"Both of you are acting like children." He shakes his head and looks at my sister and I. He can read the hurt that we both convey outwardly on our faces. He can see the disappointment and the utter failure that paints our faces without as much as saying a word directly to either of us. "You loved each other, right, once? You loved each other enough to lie in bed, make love…."

"Gross." I try to rid the image from my mind.

"You two loved each other enough to bring these girls into the world, right? Swallow your pride, and tell me what happened. I am not doing this for either of you. I am doing this for those girls that love you both so much, despite this wall that you have built between them. They should be able to live as normal lives as possible. They're sisters, for God's sake. You both owe them that."

I see Olivia close her eyes and take a deep breath. She and my dad are both too stunned to speak. As she picks her jaw up off the floor, she exhales profoundly, and with her eyes closed, she says, "it all started the day of my partner Amanda Rollins' wedding rehearsal at St. Michael's Church. I'd been partners with her for nearly six years and had known her husband, Sonny Carisi, for just as long. Elliot was Carisi's best man." I see Evelyn reach out and grab ahold of her hand. Without hesitation, she squeezes it as if they've always done that action during unrest. "It was love at first sight."