If We Lived Here
Page 27
“Great. Let’s locate our storm benefactors and track down some breakfast.”
Chapter 26
As it turned out, Annie was not the fun-loving party hostess she’d been for the previous two days. “My cell phone’s dead, all our good food is rotting, and I’m fucking freezing,” she complained to Eli, who comforted her as if these problems were unique to her. Emma knew Annie would’ve been melodramatic even if she weren’t pregnant, and she steered clear of her all day.
By Wednesday, day four of being stuck inside, even Annie and Eli’s six-room apartment was starting to feel cramped. Emma awoke early, hoping for some alone time, but Eli was already up and dressed, setting the table with a platter of peanut butter sandwiches and a bowl of apple slices. Emma knew this was the last of the fresh fruit. He’d also mixed up a pitcher of lemonade from the powder Annie had insisted they buy at Fairway for their picnic. The spread almost made up for the lack of coffee.
After everyone ate, Eli explained his plan: “I went down to the storage unit and found our old rain boots. Thank God for flashlights and intuition, right? Our newer ones are up here, so that’s enough pairs for all of us. Apparently there are makeshift charging stations above Fourteenth Street. So let’s venture out for a walk to the wonderful land of electricity. We can power up our phones and maybe find some decent food.”
“And hot coffee!” said Emma, thinking it was a great idea. She craved fresh air and space. Although she’d half decided she could move past Nick’s slip-up, she was feeling claustrophobic with all that had been revealed in the past few days.
But Annie snapped, “And then what? Ems and Nick can go crash with Gen uptown”—Yeah, right, Emma thought—“but what are we supposed to do? Come back to this dark, freezing place? They’re saying the power could be out for a week or more. I want to go to my mom’s.”
“And get there how, honey?” Eli asked. Emma was impressed by how patient he sounded; Annie really had found the right guy for her.
“We’ll figure something out, right?” Which, as they all knew, meant Eli should figure something out. And miraculously he did: Within an hour he’d worked his magic (or connections) and found a car service that, if they could get themselves up to Midtown, was willing to drive them to Westchester. God knows how much money Eli had offered.
“The car can take us another three blocks to my brother’s, right?” Emma asked. A couple of months ago she would’ve dreaded the thought of crashing indefinitely with Max and Alysse, and might have even opted instead to stay in a dark, cold apartment with a dwindling food supply. But now Emma was sort of looking forward to it (though Max didn’t yet know she was coming). They likely had heat and light, yes, but Max was also one of her few loved ones who hadn’t recently betrayed her.
As they marched north along the dark, ravaged streets of NoHo, then the Village, and then Chelsea, Nick felt like he was in a dystopian video game. The few other pedestrians were all headed in the same direction, everyone on the same journey, off to face some final enemy and reap the ultimate reward. Nick was handicapped by the too-small boots—Eli had seemed embarrassed admitting they were size 8.5—and the noises they made as he walked with pinched feet were like a soundtrack: squish, suck, squish, suck. Nick thought of their home in Red Hook as of another land and another time, left behind in the quest for—what?—light, power, dry earth, civilization, peace. His despair at imagining all their things still packed in boxes on the floor of their street-level apartment, maybe now ruined, was punctuated by waves of lightness; he had the clothes on his back and his girlfriend at his side and the strength in his legs to walk forty blocks north. He and Emma had persevered through some big battle, and although who knew what other villains lurked around the corner, at least they were moving forward, trudging together away from the worst of the wreckage. Nick felt equipped to crush this game.
Annie’s complaining interrupted Nick’s fantasy. Apparently she didn’t feel she had the strength to walk: “I’m getting blisters,” she whined. “Honey, will you carry me?” God, that girl could be grating. After three full days cooped up with her, Nick kept catching himself spinning violent scenarios targeting Annie, her generous hospitality notwithstanding. He didn’t know how Emma, or for that matter Eli, put up with her in large doses. He felt a new respect for the guy he’d previously pegged as just out for a trophy wife, a guy who was now lifting his full-grown pregnant wife into a piggyback.
“Let me know if I can relieve your burden,” Nick said, patting Eli on the back.
“Thanks, dude. I think I can stick it out. Luckily we’re less than ten blocks away.”
“Fewer than,” Emma whispered, elbowing Nick. He smiled, and didn’t mention that distance could be an exception to the less-versus-fewer grammar rule. “Wow, look.”
She was pointing to Macy’s, the flagship store that took up an entire avenue block. What was arguably the city’s epicenter of commerce and capitalism was now, at ten a.m. on a weekday, dark and deserted—an incredible sight. Emma had once dragged Nick inside Macy’s to shop for couches, but he’d felt so overwhelmed by the crush of shoppers and sheer quantity of merchandise that he’d fled down the street to Sbarro. Now, all across Herald Square people were trekking together toward safety and power, talking to one another and taking in this strange new iteration of their city. No one was checking a cell phone (they were probably all dead) or brushing past others in a race to get somewhere important. Everything had slowed. Nick gaped like a tourist, in awe.
It seemed as if the whole world order had shifted. After weeks of distress over whether or not to tell Emma about his lapse with Genevieve, and if so how exactly to broach it, she’d found out on her own. When she’d discovered the text messages, Nick couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been not to have deleted them; but now looking back on it, he wondered if perhaps he’d saved them on purpose, partly hoping Emma would stumble upon them and bring everything out into the open. Because when that had finally happened, it hadn’t spelled total disaster. He and Emma had talked it through like adults. Nick wasn’t exactly sure where he stood with her, but there she was by his side now. And in a way he’d never felt better about the two of them.
In the spirit of camaraderie, he approached Eli. “So the other day you mentioned how your company might be able to help fund my school’s new tutoring initiative.”
“Oh yeah, man. Though now is probably not the best time to ask.”
“Right, no, of course. I figured the chances were probably pretty slim.”
“Nah, I mean right now, as in today. When no one has power and the whole city’s flooded, I don’t think I can call the board together to discuss your after-school program.”
“Oh, right.” Nick laughed nervously. He knew this kind of conversation was called fund-raising, but to him it felt like begging. He inhaled sharply, trying to shore up his confidence: “Well, when business is back up and running, I’d love to talk. Ten thousand would be great. Twenty thousand would be even better.”
“Look at you, driving a hard bargain. I didn’t think you had it in you, buddy.”
“Whatever I can do for the kids. We could mention the sponsorship however you’d like. And maybe I’d lay off on teaching my class about the evils of Wall Street.”
“Really?”
“No, probably not.”
Eli laughed. “That’s cool. Well, I’d say it’s as good as done.” He shook Nick’s hand and then hoisted Annie higher on his back. “Fuck, you’re heavy, honey.”
“She starts gaining weight that early, huh?” As soon as he said it Nick realized his error.
Annie glared at him and then at Emma. “Ems, did you tell him?”
Eli craned his neck to face Annie. “So then you told Emma?”
Simultaneously they said, “But you promised.”
“Shit, sorry,” said Nick. “I fucked this up.”
“So did everyone else, apparently,” Eli said. “I guess I’m the only one around here who can keep a secret.”
Eli rolled his eyes and patted his wife on the butt. “Of course you did, naughty girl. Oh, well, now that it’s out, we may as well tell the world. Hey, world,” he shouted. On any other day a guy screaming on a street corner in Midtown would be either ignored or scorned, but now in the midst of the biggest natural disaster ever to hit the city, several people actually turned to look. “My wife’s pregnant! We’re going to have a baby!”
A group of people clapped; someone whistled.
“Congrats, dude!”
“Woo-hoo!”
“Hey, a hurricane baby. Name it Sandy!”
“That’s as good a reason as any to drink!” one guy yelled, and then pulled a beer from his backpack. He popped it open. “To the baby!”
Among the cheers and huzzahs, someone barked, “Whoop-de-fuckin’-do. Shut your goddamn piehole!”
“So we’re still in New York City after all,” Eli said. He yelled out, “Whoop-de-fuckin’-do yourself, dude! Screw you!” and then set off in a run to escape any consequences of the retort, Annie still hitched on his back.
They’d been passing homemade charging stations all through Manhattan, Good Samaritans with electricity who’d strung power strips out their windows for passersby to juice up their electronics. On Christopher Street they’d witnessed an argument between one man charging a large pink dildo and another wanting to plug in his iPad; the fight over which device was more essential devolved into a battle of pseudo-ethics, iPad Guy citing Aristotle and Dildo Guy citing “my motherfucking libido.” Nick insisted they stay to watch the outcome: Unsurprisingly, Dildo Guy eventually won out.
A block before Times Square they found a free power strip and plugged in their phones. Nick checked his e-mail, which was mostly junk. He scanned a Celebrate Halloween with Style! newsletter from something called Big Apple Fun (oh, right, today was Halloween); it was full of party tricks, like how to give guests a fright: “Try strobe lights; or better yet, turn off all the lights and hand each person a candle when they arrive.” Jesus, Nick thought, the image of people huddled in the dark with candles no longer sounded like a fun Halloween party gimmick. He moved on to an e-mail from Carl, subject line, Wish you were here! The attached photo was of Carl in his Hoboken condo, donning flippers, a Speedo, and a sun hat, his baby wading in water that was already up to Carl’s ankles. Jesus, Nick thought again.
He heard Emma on the phone. “There’s no way you installed it last winter,” she said in the impatient tone she reserved for Max. “You hired someone to install it, right?”
“Psst,” said Nick. “Don’t antagonize him. We’re asking for a favor, remember?”
She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, that’s awesome that you guys have a backup generator. Congrats on your foresight. Is it possible we could come crash at your place for a couple of nights? Nick and I could babysit and give you and Alysse a break.”
“There you go,” Nick whispered.
An hour later the car service showed up. When the driver opened his door, people all around pounced, spewing sob stories and begging for a ride. “Mr. Eli Silber?” the driver called out. Nick felt embarrassed as Eli pushed past the crowd and shook the man’s hand, acting as if he’d won some award. The four of them piled into the car, and with a slam of the door separated themselves from the community of people in the streets.
“Peace out, New York City,” Eli yelled. “I can’t wait to get out of this shit storm.”
It was possible Nick was imagining the hostile, jealous glares from the throngs outside, but he slid down in his seat nevertheless, his stomach swirling with equal parts shame and relief as the car peeled off, ferrying them out of the storm-ravaged city.
Chapter 27
As 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 bur
sting 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.”