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.”
“Wow, what a mess.”
“Exactly. We haven’t told Caleb yet about his friend—he’ll be in a wheelchair for weeks. The kids are already so freaked out from the s
torm and the power outages.”
“I can imagine.”
“I’m really sorry about your apartment. We’ll do whatever we can to help. I don’t think Max meant most of those things… .” She petered out.
“There’s no need to apologize to me. It sounds like you’ve had a hell of a week. For some reason Max has a way of getting under Emma’s skin. She doesn’t act that way or say those kinds of things to anyone else.” Nick wondered if he was betraying his girlfriend in speaking so candidly, but he also believed he was doing his part to repair the Feit family relations. Plus, it felt good to talk about the Max-Emma rivalry with someone who probably understood it as well as or even better than he.
Alysse shrugged. “Classic sibling stuff. Do you have any?” Nick shook his head. “Ah. Well, I was a hundred times worse with my sisters.”
“But that was when you were kids, right?”
“Yeah, but still. Those childhood relations die hard. I want so badly for Aimee and Caleb to get along. Max thinks I coddle them, that I interfere too much when they’re fighting. But he’s not exactly an expert on sibling harmony, is he? I feel like the kids were taking notes tonight. Hopefully they didn’t quite put together that their father and Emma are related in the same way that they are.”
“I think it’ll be a few years before your kids start criticizing each other’s major life choices,” Nick said. “Anyway, maybe that all sounded harsher to us. Emma and Max are so used to it.” Though truthfully, Nick had never heard them go at it quite like that.
“Maybe.” Alysse didn’t sound convinced. “And Max is still really wrapped up in being the older brother. Ever since their parents moved abroad, he feels this huge responsibility, like he has to take care of Emma, well, at least until she’s married and settled.” She glanced down. “Oh gosh, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s okay.”
“Sorry, I guess I’m more exhausted than I realized.” She patted her belly pooch.
“I’ll give you a pregnancy pass. The bottom line, I think, is that Max and Emma are just very different people.”
“Yes, and not always so accepting of each other’s differences.” Nick handed Alysse a platter to dry. “Look at that, you’re quite the scrubber. Max isn’t so reliable on the tough stains.”
“You sound like an ad for dish soap.”
“What can I say, I guess I’m just a boring suburban housewife and mom.”
“By the way, Emma found out yesterday that her best friend’s pregnant, hence the anti-procreation remarks.”
“You mean Annie Blum?” Alysse said. “Gosh, that was fast!”
“Exactly.”
“You know, I read an article the other day about the earth’s population. It’s seven billion now, and they’re saying it could reach ten billion by 2100. Ten billion! That really makes you think about bringing new people into the world, doesn’t it? Especially when they’re saying we’re going to have more and more crazy storms like this one.”
“Huh,” said Nick.
“Sometimes I feel guilty being pregnant.”
“Well, I guess I won’t be out of a job anytime soon.”
“Good point: All my baby making is keeping you teachers employed. I’m a job creator, as the politicians like to say.” Alysse giggled girlishly.
Nick handed off the last dish, then wiped his hands. “I’d better go check on Emma.”
“Thanks for helping. You’re a mensch.” Nick took the comment as a kind of olive branch; it was a given that Alysse would’ve preferred Emma to be with a Jewish guy, but maybe she wasn’t quite rooting for Nick’s ouster, either.
Nick found Emma facedown in bed. He tapped her on the shoulder and she turned her head, revealing eyes swollen from crying.
“Nick, the landlord left me a message. I was too upset to tell you before.”
“Oh God, what does that asshole want?”
“No, not Luis, Shelley. She must’ve called when my phone was dead. She said she checked in on our place and things were floating.”
“What do you mean?”
“Floating. As in, the water was a foot high. She said we were lucky since most of it’s receded by now and other places on the street had flooding up to five feet. A foot of water in our home and we’re lucky, can you believe it?” Nick wasn’t sure what to believe; he pictured a pile of his stuff all scattered like flotsam across a wading pool. “Anyway, she has our mail. Like, thank God, all of our belongings are waterlogged but the catalogs and credit card offers have been spared.”
“That was good of her to call.” Emma gave him a look like Really?, but it was all he could think of to say. His head was reeling. “So that’s what’s been on your mind all evening, when you were laying into your brother?”
“I guess. And I don’t know, everything else, too.” Emma waved her hand, as if to swat it all away. “But also, I’m sick to death of Max treating me that way, like I’m a complete imbecile.” Nick began rubbing circles into her back. “And yeah, yeah, I was an asshole, too. I’ll apologize.”
“You know, they’ve actually had a hard time this week, too. Alysse has basically been running a soup kitchen out of their home, and Max was up all night in the ER with Caleb’s friend, who broke both legs from a downed tree.”
“Shit, really?”
“Yeah. But, Emma?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m always on your side. You know that, right?”
Her brow was knit, her eyes distracted, but Nick detected a hint of a nod.
Chapter 28
Emma had passed out by nine p.m., so it didn’t surprise her that she was tossing and turning by three, and though she willed her body to reverse course into sleep she was wide awake by four. So she tiptoed downstairs, stretched out on the family room couch, and, taking a chance on one of the four remotes, pressed Power in hopes of finding a distracting TV show. Dora the Explorer clicked on from the DVD player—not what she’d had in mind. Emma eyed the remotes, clueless, and wary of screwing up the entertainment system and giving her brother the satisfaction of yet another grievance against her, she resigned herself to the cartoon. Dora and a monkey sidekick had set their sights on an ice-cream truck, which they were now busy chasing to Coney Island. Emma preferred the show’s sparkling ocean and golden sand version of Coney Island to what she imagined the storm-ravaged beach looked like now, post-Sandy. All the talk of ice cream eventually made her peckish, so she wandered into the kitchen to forage.
The cabinets were stocked with Tupperwares of grains, canned vegetables, and beans, and an entire shelf of herbal teas. Where were the snacks? Emma wondered. The fridge was a disappointment, too—there weren’t even any leftovers wedged between the fresh produce and organic yogurt. The freezer featured bags of peas and chicken breasts, not a pizza or pint of ice cream in sight. Emma kept searching, thinking Alysse must have a weak spot, that surely a pregnancy craving had made her cave and buy something processed or yummy for middle-of-the-night noshing. Finally, in the small space above the oven, which Emma used a footstool to access, she hit on her treasure: the kids’ Halloween pillowcases. Gold mine!
Emma returned to the couch carrying a handful of chocolates. Dora was now venturing across a crab-infested sand dune, and Emma set about stuffing her face with the fun-sized treats, filling her pockets with the wrappers. She didn’t even bother to keep the TV volume low; everyone sleeping was upstairs, and she had the whole downstairs, four large rooms, to herself. This was the life! Growing up, Emma had taken it for granted that her four family members might all be under the same roof but each in separate spaces, doing their own things. Now, it seemed incredible that they’d had so much space. Any apartment Emma had lived in as an adult could fit in its entirety in this family room. No wonder it felt like such a big deal to move in with a boyfriend in New York City; apartments were sized so that you couldn’t just coexist. If you were both home, you were necessarily together. In Brooklyn if Emma woke up at four a.m. to watch TV, she’d eith
er have to make the volume barely audible or use her laptop with headphones to avoid waking Nick. She supposed there were some perks to suburbia.
Emma was so absorbed in her candy consumption and in trying to estimate the house’s square footage that she didn’t notice her niece’s presence until the girl began cuddling up to her on the couch. Aimee wore pajamas covered in unicorns and she smelled like talcum powder.
“Hi,” she said simply. “May I please have a Milky Way?”
Emma hesitated before remembering that it was Aimee’s candy supply she’d been siphoning from. “Okay, but don’t tell your mother.”
“Thanks. This is a good episode. They walk across the boardwalk”—bud-wuk—“to get Boots’s floatie and then they go swimmin’.”
“Aw, man, did you just spoil the ending?”
Aimee grinned wickedly. She kicked her bare feet against the couch cushions. “Mommy says I can watch one show a day.”
“Oh yeah? That’s good, so you won’t become a couch potato.” Aimee squirmed and repeated the phrase “couch potato” quietly to herself. “So tell me, besides watching Dora the Explorer in the middle of the night, what are your hobbies?”
Aimee looked thoughtful. “Painting. And dancing. And mac and cheese.”
Emma laughed, tearing open another candy bar. Aimee’s gaze followed the chocolate’s trajectory from hand to mouth. “Oh, what the hell,” Emma said, and tossed a second Milky Way to her niece. “We’re gonna brush our teeth after this, okay? We’ve got to cover our tracks.”
“Also I like the Torah and Cat in the Hat.”
“So you’re into the classics. And what are you gonna be when you grow up?”
If We Lived Here Page 28
