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On a beautiful mid-April Sunday, Toby and Andy walk a few paces behind the twins. They had started doing “Family Weekends” once a month after he was pardoned, and this one had involved an afternoon in Georgetown by the river and ice cream near Dupont Circle. Since he’d started at Columbia, he took a late train down Friday night and an early one up Monday morning, sleeping in Andy’s guest room for those three nights. It was a comfortable arrangement, and the kids loved the time together.
Now they are headed back to Andy’s house, having decided to take the Metro. Huck and Molly were obsessed with trains, and were counting the days until their next visit to New York, where Toby promised to take them to the Transit Museum. The seven-year-olds were playing some game involving jumping from side to side, their matching Orioles caps zig-zagging back and forth across the sidewalk (Molly still liked the bird; Huck still liked what she liked).
Andy taps his arm to get his attention. “Hey Toby, when we get to the station, do you mind sticking with Molly? I’ll go ahead with Huck, we can meet up on the platform.”
The request catches him off guard. “Why aren’t we all sticking together?”
“Because Huck likes walking down the escalator and Molly prefers standing still, and since both of their parents are here I thought we could divide and conquer.”
“She doesn’t like to walk at all? Our daughter, who we regularly have to stop from sprinting into traffic, doesn’t like to walk down escalators?” If Andy had said Huck didn’t like walking down escalators, he wouldn’t be surprised, but this was a rare side to their daughter.
Andy shakes her head and shrugs. “It started a little while ago. It’s not that big a deal, but this is a long escalator and Huck gets a little restless.”
Toby shakes his head, still not quite believing it as they walk towards the station entrance. “How long?”
“Yeah, it’s about a two minute ride. See you down there.” Andy takes Huck’s hand at the top of the staircase, letting him lead the way. Watching her brother disappear into the ground, Molly freezes. Toby, noticing her hesitation, kneels beside the little girl.
“What’s the holdup, Smalls?”
“I don’t like it, it’s so up high, what if I fall?” The words pour out of her as she looks at her dad, eyes shining out from under her baseball cap. That she doesn’t object at all to his nickname for her (“I’m not small, Daddy!”) shows him she is fully preoccupied/
Toby makes a mental note to let Andy know there’s a difference between “preferring to stand still” and “completely terrified of escalators” as he tries to think of a solution to the problem at hand. Molly is rapidly getting to a place of panic, and the line for the elevator is fairly long -- anyway, if memory serves, neither twin would step foot in an elevator since getting stuck several months earlier between floors in the Rayburn building. He looks into her eyes. “How about we try this. I’ll stand on the steps in front of you, and I’ll hold your hand the whole time.” Noticing her bottom lip quivering, he adds, “I’ll even turn around so I’m facing you, okay? You can just look at me, and that way you won’t be able to see down the escalator.”
“You’ll be okay going backwards, Daddy?” Her brow is knitted with concern, a look he knows she gets from him.
“I’ll be okay. I’m pretty brave.” He gives her a wink, and Molly nods, reluctantly agreeing to the plan.
He stands, knees cracking, and grabs her hand. Once there’s a break in foot traffic, they approach the escalator, and step onto it together. Some quick and awkward maneuvering gets Toby down a few steps, facing Molly, who has her eyes screwed shut. He takes a deep breath, mentally cursing whoever designed the metro system with these escalators. Why can’t they have stairs like his subway?
“Hey, Moll, it’s okay, see? I’m right here in front of you.” She opens one eye, then the next, giving a child’s best imitation of a death grip to his left hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Her eyes are still watery but she manages a small smile. “Daddy, will I be brave like you when I’m a grown-up?”
“You know, I think you’re brave already.” She gives him a skeptical look straight from Andy’s playbook, and he chuckles. “You’re scared of the escalator and you’re still going down it. In my book, that’s super brave.”
She contemplates this. “Okay, but you have to tell Huck I’m super brave if he calls me a scaredy-cat. Promise?”
“Promise.”