If We Lived Here (27 page)

Chapter
27

A
s Nick and Emma fidgeted on Max’s doorstep, Nick took an inventory of their appearance—their slick, grimy skin made it clear that they hadn’t showered in days, their clothes were matted with dirt, and Emma’s hair was doing that frizzy-wavy thing she hated. They probably smelled, too.

“You made it!” Alysse appeared at the door and ushered them inside. “I’ll tell you right away that I’m feeling very self-conscious. At fourteen weeks I always just look fat, not pregnant.” Emma might’ve found the comment narcissistic, but to Nick it was a kindness for Alysse to ignore the fact that he and Emma looked like homeless people.

“You look great, Alysse,” Nick said, then he blinked at Emma until she added, “You really do.”

“Before you two tell us everything, I bet you’re dying for showers. I set out hand towels and bath sheets, plus sets of clean clothes. Nick, I think Max’s things will fit you all right. Sadly I don’t have your long legs, Emma, so my jeans will probably be capris on you. But those are trendy now, right? Aimee wanted you to borrow one of her sundresses. When I tried to explain how size might be a concern, she threw a fit, so I said you’d wear her barrette. I hope that’s all right.” Her chatter continued as she led them to the spare room, what had been the Feits’ office during Emma’s childhood. Nick knew the bed would be made with sweet-smelling sheets and that toothbrushes and little bottles of water would be set out for them; it felt nice to be mothered, even by a woman his own age. “Max and the kids are down at the school gym trick-or-treating. Trees have been toppling everywhere, and half the houses still don’t have power, so they moved the whole production inside. It’s a sad approximation, but at least the kids will get their sugar high. If you ask me, I’m not sure why we’re encouraging our children to celebrate a pagan holiday, but Max was insistent.” This one was new to Nick—Halloween’s incompatibility with Judaism. “All right, I need to start dinner so I’ll leave you two be. I hope you’re up for burgers. Don’t worry, Nick, I’ve got a veggie one for you.”

 

Under the shower’s steady stream, the water running cloudy with his body’s grime, Nick felt happier than he had in days. “Yoo-hoo.” Emma stepped into the tub and pressed herself against him, a pleasant surprise; they hadn’t showered together since the beginnings of their relationship.

“Pretty great, right?”

“Yeah,” she said, “except look at all the bath products: nontoxic, dye-free, and a hundred percent organic. Also, zero percent fun and probably smell like armpits.”

“I bet they smell better than you do right now.” That began a splashing fight, which quickly led to kissing. The tub had those no-slip treads in rainbow colors, which were surprisingly conducive to shower sex—Nick made a mental note to buy some. He put his hand over Emma’s mouth to shush her moans, which were maybe meant to reach and shock the ears of a certain sister-in-law. This thought conjured up an image of Alysse in Nick’s mind, which he couldn’t shake as he pressed himself into Emma’s back. He found Alysse not at all sexy, although maybe there was something alluring about her plump arms and efficient smile. Jesus, he thought, there was no accounting for desire. He came quickly, then slid down to sit in the tub, letting the water pound against his shoulders. This was what water was supposed to be: refreshing and restorative and safely confined to a specific space, not out of control and wreaking havoc on an entire geographical region.

The two of them patted each other dry with plush towels, then Nick pulled on Max’s track pants and NYU Law T-shirt. “Hey, gang,” he said, attempting an impression of Emma’s brother, “how about a friendly game of Wiffle ball? Afterward I’ll whip up flaxseed pancakes and cups of Sanka for everyone.”

“I don’t know, Max-y,” Emma said in an approximation of Alysse’s voice, modeling her pair of elastic-waist jeans. “I reserved the morning for family Torah study, and I think we better find a way to include some v-e-g-g-i-e-s in our meal.” They fell onto the bed giggling. “We’re both terrible at impressions, you know,” she said. “Also, I think these are maternity pants.”

“Holy shit, is it nice to be dry and in clean clothes in a warm place,” Nick said.

“I know.”

“And together with you.” He was practically bursting with the sentiment.

They lay there luxuriating in their simple good fortune, until the silence was pierced by a squeal: “Auntie Emma! Mr. Nick!” Little footsteps came padding down the hall, until Emma’s niece appeared, beaming, in a beige bodysuit adorned with leafy vines. “I’m Eve!” she shouted, leaping into Emma’s arms. “But I ate my forbidden fruit and lost my serpent.” She pronounced it
suh-print
. “I filled my whole bag with candy!”

“Good job, kiddo!” Emma gave her a high five. “Who knew the Garden of Eden was so great for trick-or-treating?”

“Mommy says come down to dinner when you’re ready.”

“Yum yum,” Emma said, tickling her niece’s spandex belly. “Let’s go eat.”

In the kitchen, Spiderman, né Caleb, latched onto Nick’s leg. “Hey, buddy,” Nick said. “I would’ve thought you’d be dressed as Adam.”

Alysse raised her eyebrows. “Someone had a meltdown when he realized his costume was supposed to make him look naked. So we switched plans last minute.”

“Spiderman and Eve, my two beloveds.” It was Max, who crouched down to hug his kids, and then righted himself to plant kisses on the cheeks of Emma and his wife.

Nick shook his hand and marveled: Max was the ultimate day-to-day guy and he seemed to relish the role. “Thanks for the clothes, man. I’m feeling very styling.”

Alysse served Nick the same packaged veggie burger he ate several nights a week, but it was the first warm food he’d had in days, so it tasted gourmet. Aimee and Caleb seemed less interested in their burgers than in their candy hauls, which they were now inventorying aloud, talking over each other and unfazed by the fact that no one else was paying attention. “So let’s hear your hurricane tale,” Alysse said.

Nick and Emma tag-teamed the telling of the events of the past four days. (They skipped the Gen part, of course—and in editing that out of what would become their official Sandy story, to be told and retold again and again in coming months, part of Nick felt that maybe his slip-up hadn’t happened at all.) Emma finished with their walk uptown that morning: “You could just feel the fact that everyone had been through something tough, and there was this amazing spirit—we were all in it together. It was like a cheesy movie, but it didn’t feel cheesy at all.”

Nick thought she’d summed it up well, conveying precisely how he’d felt, too. But Max snorted. “It sounds like you think this whole thing has been romantic,” he said. “You do know there’s been billions of dollars of damage. People have died.”

“Yes, of course. All I’m saying is that out of this awful disaster came some moments that were kind of wonderful.” Emma squeezed Nick’s hand.

“Okay, sure. Can you pass the ketchup?”

Nick sensed Emma wasn’t going to let her brother’s comments go, and he was right: “Max, believe me,” she said, “I know this has been devastating. While you’ve been up here safe and sound with your backup generator, our neighborhood has been totally pummeled. Our apartment might be ruined. It’s possible we lost all of our stuff.”

“But you guys have renter’s insurance, right?”

“Well, it was on my to-do list. There’s been a lot going on, you know.”

“Unbelievable.” Max shook his head. “Maybe that’s what you get for moving to Red Hook. Did you think that would be romantic, too?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been out there. It’s all industrial warehouses and run-down lots, right? A total shithole.” Nick saw Alysse wince at the last word, but she said nothing. The kids, meanwhile, had stopped talking about trick-or-treating and were now spellbound watching their father and aunt. “Plus, it’s totally cut off from the rest of the city. I don’t know what you were thinking, moving all the way out there.”

“When were you last there, like a decade ago?” Emma said. “The idea of you knowing anything at all about neighborhoods in New York City is totally laughable.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ve put in some cool dive bars and overpriced coffee shops, just like every other crappy area of Brooklyn that’s supposedly now hip. My point is, leave it to you, Emma, to seek out some difficult, cutting-edge housing situation so you can revel in how complicated and hard your life is.”

Emma scoffed. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. And only someone who lives in boring, yuppie Westchester would think Red Hook is cutting-edge.”

“Em.” Nick placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder, but she shook it off, not looking away from her brother. For the third or fourth time that meal, Nick instinctively reached for the beer that he assumed would be in front of him; once again he withdrew his hand, empty. The adults all had glasses of water, and the kids had mugs of milk. It was a novelty, to eat dinner without drinks. Although maybe it was like any other eating ritual people accustomed themselves to—keeping kosher or swearing off meat. Still, Nick thought a bit of booze could do this party good, loosen everyone up, and take the edge off this argument that didn’t seem to be dissipating.

“After everything we went through trying to find a decent place to live,” Emma fumed, “are you actually blaming me for not checking the height above sea level of a potential apartment? Are you holding me responsible for not foreseeing that the biggest hurricane in the city’s history would swoop down a week after we moved in?”

“I’m just saying—”

“What
are
you saying exactly, Max?”

In the brief silence that followed, Nick tried again: “Hey, guys, Spiderman and Eve are looking a little put out. Should we change the subject, maybe ask them about their friends’ costumes?” Alysse smiled pityingly at him, and both sets of siblings ignored him. He squirted a ketchup smiley face onto his plate and tilted it toward Caleb, but still couldn’t win the boy’s attention.

“What I’m saying,” Max went on, “is that isn’t it notable, and maybe not such a coincidence, that it always seems to be you having the problems and me bailing you out? Maybe if you grew up a little and didn’t change course every two seconds, maybe if you stuck with any given career long enough to make some real money and be able to live—”

“Oh, so that’s it, I don’t make enough money for you, Max? I don’t have the right career? Is that what growing up means to you? Well, I have news for you: There are other ways to be an adult than becoming a fancy corporate lawyer, popping out a new kid every couple of years, and slinking back home to live in your parents’ house in the suburbs.”

“You know, you’re just like Mom and Dad, doing whatever pleases you and never even considering how your actions affect anyone else. They were so giddy about their stupid Spanish bakery idea that they were practically going to give away the house to the first people who expressed interest. It was totally childish and irresponsible.”

“So you did them a big favor by taking it off their hands?” Her sarcasm seethed.

“Yes, to keep the house in the family, Emma. You think I was thrilled to move out to the suburbs in my mid-twenties? No, but I felt certain responsibilities and obligations. Sometimes there are decisions to be made, and someone’s got to make them. It’s not always about what you want.”

“Fuck that, Max. It’s bullshit, and you know it.” Alysse’s chair squeaked as she stood up suddenly; taking her plate, she excused herself to the kitchen. Emma was oblivious. This verbal battle was spinning out of control, and Nick worried that at any moment Emma would throw out the fact that Max had no clue what she was dealing with: namely, infidelity. Instead she said, “You think you’re so mature and responsible, but I think you’re too scared to even consider what it is you want in life. You hide behind being a self-righteous prick because maybe you’re terrified to discover that what you actually want
isn’t
to be the good little Jewish boy with the picture-perfect family.”

Alysse had reappeared, her face inscrutable. “So, who wants dessert?”

“Dessert!” Aimee yelled. “Candy, candy, candy!”

“You can each pick out two pieces from your pillowcases,” she told her children. “But none of those chocolate creams. They’re dairy, and you just ate meat.”

“Two whole pieces of candy on Halloween? Lord Almighty,” said Emma. “And you,” she said to Nick, her voice trembling, “why can’t you ever show that you’re on my side?” She fled from the table in a huff. Nick, shocked at the accusation, stayed put. He suspected she’d want to be alone; or no, if he was going to be honest with himself, he wanted to give her time to cool off before going to face her. This conversation had confounded him, each sibling accusing the other of absurd things, both of them responding cruelly and irrationally.

Max got up calmly, kissed his wife on the forehead, and said, “I’ll clear my plate later,” before stalking off in the opposite direction from Emma.

“Well,” said Alysse.

Nick felt awkward and a little panicked. At a loss for what else to do, he began clearing the table with Alysse. They did so in silence while the kids whined for more candy, and Alysse eventually gave in, sanctioning one more lollipop each.

At the kitchen counter, she handed Nick a sponge. “Here, you wash and I’ll dry.”

It was a relief to be assigned a task. Watching the suds gather in the sink as he stood beside Alysse, Nick thought about how both of their partners, in insulting each other and each other’s way of life, had by extension insulted the two of them, too. “I don’t know what to say about what just happened,” he offered eventually. “It’s been a tough few days. I’m sure it hasn’t been a breeze out here, either.”

“I think we’re all just tired.” Alysse dried and stacked several plates before continuing: “A lot of our neighbors have their power out, so we’ve been hosting people for meals all week. And then last night some kids were out playing and a tree came down. It fell on this little boy, one of Caleb’s friends. Max took him to the hospital so his mom could stay with her other two kids. The dad was out of town, and the airports are still shut down so he can’t get back. Turns out, the boy broke both legs. Anyway, so Max was up most of the night—I think he came home around four, and then our kids are up by six.”