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The name of the man she was going to see tonight was Mat, aka Matthew Allen, an Executive ADA from the Staten Island DA’s office. They’d met at a conference on DV, almost a month ago. When Mat had asked if he could see her again some time, perhaps over casual drinks, Olivia was about to brush him off, but something stopped her. It had been months since she’d broken it off with Tucker, and, at that point, anything ‘casual’, be that drinks, dinner, or even sex, suited her just fine.
Of course, the two current occupants of her living room were both convinced she was going out with Tucker. With Noah it was because he was too young to understand that Ed no longer being a part of his life meant he wasn’t a part of hers. With Barba… Olivia sighed. Well, with Barba it was… complicated. He never pried when it came to her personal life, and she still couldn’t find it in her to tell him that she and Ed had been over for months now.
It seemed easier that way. Mostly because she wasn’t ready to talk about it. The guilt over how she had ended it with Tucker still loomed over her head like a dark shadow. Being vague and evasive about it at work was one thing, but she knew the moment she told Rafael all the dams in the world wouldn’t be able to hold the flood of doubts she’d been trying to keep at bay.
And then, there was Barba himself, and that inexplicable sense of closeness that had crept into their friendship as of late. Maybe a part of her was afraid that, should she tell him, things might begin to change between them. Or maybe there was another part, the part that was not sure she’d be able to handle it if they didn’t.
She kept telling herself that those odd feelings that kept her tossing and turning at night were nothing more than the growing bond between him and Noah. The boy was like a gigantic magnet that way: the closer he got to Rafael, the deeper he pulled her. There were times when she’d find herself watching the two together only to realize she could no longer tell where Noah’s happiness ended and hers began.
Perhaps that was the real reason she’d agreed to go on a date with Mat. She needed distraction. She needed distance. But most of all, she needed to get that building tension out of her system before it was too late.
With another sigh, she rinsed the last of the coffee cups, stuck it into the dishwasher, and wiped her hands before heading into the living room to end Noah’s favorite playdate.
This Sunday, it was the 100-piece Disney’s ‘Dinosaur’ puzzle that Barba had brought for Noah. When she’d had the audacity of pointing out that something with 40 pieces or less would probably be easier for a five-year-old to put together, her son gave her a look of such unadulterated contempt she knew it was a losing battle.
Crossing the room, she sat on the carpet next to Barba. “Wow. I can’t believe you guys are done.” It had taken Noah—with only a little help from Rafael—nearly seven hours, during which she’d almost resorted to using physical force when she had to drag the two into the kitchen for a much needed lunch—and, later, dinner—break. “Or almost done,” she noted, pointing at the puzzle-piece-shaped hole near the left side. “Where’s Yar’s nose?”
“It’s riiiiiiight here,” chirped Noah, producing the missing piece from his shorts pocket and sticking the cardboard onto his own adorably wrinkled nose.
“Hey!” Rafael laughed. “I’ve been looking for that one! Give it here, you little thief!”
The boy’s grin only widened. “Or what? You’ll put me in jail?”
“Don’t mess with me, smartypants. I have the power. C’mon, put it back so we can finally finish this thing. It’s almost bedtime.”
The hand, along with the piece containing the grumpy lemur’s nose, disappeared behind Noah’s back. “Is ‘little thief’ a felony or mismeanor ?”
“Mis-de-mea-nor, ” Barba corrected him, watching the boy trying to mouth the word. “And that would depend on what you steal. And on what the prosecutor decides to charge you with. Either way, you’re going down, pal, because this particular prosecutor is in no mood to be lenient right now.”
“What’s ‘lenient’?”
“Being nicer to someone than they deserve,” Olivia interfered, shooting a sharp glance in Rafael’s direction. “Seriously? You’ve been teaching a five-year-old the difference between a felony and a misdemeanor?”
He shrugged. “He overheard me on the phone. Got curious.”
“Uh-huh. And the best way out of it you could think of was explaining to him what it means?”
“I know what it means,” the boy protested. “Felony is worse than misodem… that other thing.”
“And that’s all I taught him, I swear.” Rafael raised his hands in a surrendering gesture.
Olivia rolled her eyes.
Noah huffed. “No, it’s not. You also taught me about ‘classes’ and how they go like ‘ABC’.”
The surrendering hands dropped with a plaintive sigh. “Next time remind me to teach you about undercutting your own witness.”
“What’s ‘undercutting’?”
“Okkkayyyy, Amateur ADA club…” Olivia said. “The court is adjourned till next Sunday. Noah, if you give Yar his nose back, we can ask if Uncle Rafa wouldn’t mind taking this gorgeous that the two of you built together to have it framed so we can hang it in your room. How does that sound?”
Her eyes moved from face to face.
The face to her right happened to wear indignantly raised eyebrows. “Really, Liv? ‘Amateur’?”
“Just… work with me here, will ya?” she filtered through clenched teeth.
Rafael turned to Noah. “Your mom’s right. It would look great hanging above your bed. And I promise to pick the nicest frame I can find for it.”
The boy gave it a moment’s thought. “But if we hang it above my bed, we can’t build it again. Right?”
“True. But I can get you a new one next Sunday.” When no reply came for a long time, he spread his arms. “Look. I can either take it with me to have it framed or we can just disassemble the whole thing and build it again some other time. You choose.”
“What’s ‘disssamble’?”
“ Disassemble. It means taking something apart.”
“Mmmmmmmm…” It was a long thought process. “I choose….. Disassemble.”
“Hey! You got it right! That’s a tough word. Well done!”
Olivia watched him reach over to ruffle the dark curls on Noah’s head. The sheer amount of pride in the boy’s smile was enough to melt a heart. It suddenly dawned on her that what she'd always assumed was just Rafael using those fancy words because he was unaccustomed to being around children was apparently being done on purpose. Now that she thought of it, Noah’s vocabulary had been improving as of late. She remembered confessing to Rafael some time ago how Noah being behind in speech development had her fretting.
Without thinking, she found herself giving his back a grateful stroke and mouthing a soundless “Thank you.”
The only reply she got was a wry grin and… was that a wince?
Only now did she notice how pale he was. Even his eyes seemed to have lost color.
“You ok?” she asked, touching his forehead out of habit. “You look sick.”
“A bit of a headache,” he confessed with an attempt at a smile that turned into a pained grimace. “Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”
“You sure?” Olivia sounded doubtful. “It looks worse than ‘a bit of a headache’. ”
Rafael glanced at Noah, then back at her, before giving a slight nod in the kitchen direction. “Sidebar?”
“I know what ‘sidebar’ means!” the boy jumped. “It's when you and mom go to whisper about things you don’t want me to hear.”
“Ok, legal encyclopedia,” said Olivia, rising. “How about you disassemble the puzzle, brush your teeth, and put on your PJs? Uncle Rafa and I will be right back.”
“Do I have to?” Noah drawled in a whiny voice that spelled trouble. “I don’t want Uncle Rafa to go yet. Why can’t he stay a little longer?”
“You know why.” She pinned him down with a stern look. “And we’re not having this argument all over again. Puzzle, teeth, PJs. Now.”
“Fiiiiine…”
Olivia watched Rafael scramble to stand up. He looked a little unsteady on his feet, and the first step he took had him nearly tripping over the puzzle box. “Whoa!” She grabbed his elbow. “Dizzy?”
“A little. It’ll pass.” They proceeded into the kitchen where he made sure Noah was out of earshot before turning to face her. “I have migraines. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve had them since college. Usually, I take a pill for it as soon as the aura starts.”
“What’s an ‘aura’?” Olivia asked, feeling a little bit like Noah.
It seemed Rafael had the same notion. He managed a small smile. “It happens with certain types of migraines. Like a warning sign. There are different kinds: flashes of bright light, seeing a bunch of floating lines, numbness, tingling… stuff like that. For me, it’s always been seeing bright spots. That’s when I take Imitrex.”
“But…?”
“I’m fresh out. I was going to get a refill Friday morning, but there was a glitch in their computer system. Afterwards I got busy at court. Yesterday I forgot. Anyway, I should get going before it starts getting worse.”
She blocked his pass. “Will it? Get worse?”
“Yeah,” he admitted reluctantly. “And it isn’t pretty. I shouldn’t be anywhere near Noah when that happens. Lucy’s coming over anyway. You got a date. I’ll just head home and sleep it off.”
Olivia didn’t move. “Define ‘not pretty’.”
“Liv. I’ll be fine.”
“Still waiting.”
He sighed. “Aura was about an hour ago. By now it’s a full blown migraine. Even if I had Imitrex—which I don't—it wouldn’t be very effective at this point. I’m getting really nauseous…”
She could see where this was going. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because, Liv. It wouldn’t have made a difference. Unless I take Imitrex when I’m supposed to, it always gets bad.”
“I got Aspirin, Tylenol, and Advil. Any o’those help?”
“Sometimes. Not much. Got Reglan by any chance?”
“I… don’t think so? That for nausea?” When he nodded, she headed toward the front door. “A neighbor downstairs lives with her sick mother. She might have something. Lemme check. For now, the medicine cabinet’s in the bathroom, top shelf. Take whatever you think might help.”
She was gone before he could stop her and back within five minutes or so, empty-handed. “No one’s home. You take something?”
“Some Tylenol and Advil. Not sure I can keep it down, though.” He looked even worse for wear. “I should really get going.”
“Wait.” Olivia stopped him. “Can you go to your mother’s place? So you won’t be alone, at least?”
“She’s at a conference in DC. Liv, I’m fine. Really. I’ve been dealing with it for thirty years.”
“Well, I haven’t. If you insist on going home, fine. But you’re not taking an Uber. Gimme a minute to see what’s up with Noah and we’ll drive you.”
“Liv, there’s really no need—”
“Are you sick?” Noah’s voice sounded a lot closer than either of them expected. They swung around to find the boy standing near the kitchen counter. “You need to go to the hospital? I go to the hospital when I’m sick.”
“No, honey. He doesn’t.” Olivia ushered him out, stopping suddenly to look over her shoulder. “You don’t, right?”
“No, no. Of course not,” he assured her.
“See?” She kissed Noah on the head, nudging him toward his bedroom. “Let’s put on some warm clothes, so we can give Uncle Rafa a ride home.”
The boy hesitated. “Why can’t he stay here? If he’s sick, we should make him a cup of tea and give him some cough medicine.”
“It’s ok, Noah,” said Rafael. “It’s a different kind of sick. I just need to go home and sleep a little.”
“But who’s going to make you tea at home?”
Olivia stopped dead, realizing that Noah had a point. “Will the two of you excuse me for just a second?” Grabbing her phone, she headed toward her bedroom in determined, purposeful strides.
“Liv…” Rafael called after her. “Liv, you don’t have to—” The door slammed, and he part-leaned, part-fell against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers.
Noah gave him the kind of meaningful look that only a five-year-old can pull off. “Sidebar,” he explained in a somber voice. “With Ed.”
“Yeah. I got that.”
Rafael was going to say more, but just then his stomach gave that familiar twitch he’d been dreading, and he barely managed to ruffle Noah’s hair, force a smile, and mutter that he'll be back in a minute before rushing into the bathroom.
By the time Olivia came out, having canceled her date and Lucy, she found her son by the bathroom door with both palms and the side of his face pressed firmly against the wood.
“Mommy?” He looked up at her, scared, helpless, and teary-eyed. “Uncle Rafa’s really sick.”
“Oh, honey… I know. I know, sweet boy. C’mere.” She crouched next to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. The violent retching sounds that reached from inside the bathroom were making her own stomach churn. Taking a deep breath, she cupped Noah’s quivering face in soft hands. “Yes, Uncle Rafa is very sick. But you know what? He’s here, with us. We’re his friends, and we’ll take care of him until he’s all better.”
Noah sniffled. “‘Cause friends always help each other?”
“That’s right.” Olivia kissed his forehead. “Why don’t you go to your room and let me see what I can do for Uncle Rafa?”
Not that anything came to mind…
“I don’t want to,” the boy protested. “What if he gets really, really sick?”
“Liv?” Rafael called in a raspy voice.
She stood up, finding herself with her own palms against the door. “Right here,” she said softly. “How’s it going in there?”
“It’s… going.” More retching followed, then more silence. “Noah there?”
“Yes!” The boy rattled the handle. “Can I come in now? I wanna help!”
“Soon,” Rafael promised. “Hey, speaking of help, could you do me a favor?”
“Of course! You want me to read you a story? I know ‘The Giving Tree’ by heart.”
“Oh wow. You do? That’s impressive. And yes, I’d love to hear it, in a little while. But for now, could I trouble you and your mom for that cup of tea you’ve offered?”
Noah looked up at his mother with pleading eyes. Olivia nodded, smiling and stroking his soft hair. The boy turned back to the bathroom door. “With lemon? Like Mom always makes for me when my tummy hurts?”
“Yeah. Lemon sounds great. Thank you, Noah. Just make sure your mom helps you. No using the stove on your own.”
“He won’t,” Olivia chimed in. “Don’t worry.” Noah was already in the kitchen—which she suspected had been the point of the entire ruse—when she pressed a hand to the bathroom door. “Rafa?”
“Mmm?”
“Is there anything that I can do?”
She thought she’d heard a faint chuckle. “Trust me. You’re doing more than enough already. Both of you. Is Noah…?”
“In the kitchen, don’t worry. I’ll keep him away from the bathroom until you’re feeling better. Just… Please call me if there’s anything I can do to help.”
The only reply she got was more gagging.
*************************
She found her son rummaging through the kitchen drawers in search of teabags.
“Here, honey,” she said, fetching the jar along with a tall mug from one of the upper cupboards. “Why don’t you choose the one you think Uncle Rafa would like the most?”
“He likes coffee,” the boy reminded her with a reproachful look that made her laugh.
“That he does.” Olivia filled the kettle and turned the stove on. “Well, for now, he asked for tea. We’ll make him coffee tomorrow morning.”
Noah’s entire face lit up like a Christmas tree. “That mean he’s going to sleep here?”
“I dunno, honey. I think he should, but Uncle Rafa can be even more stubborn than you are. I guess we’ll talk about it when he’s feeling a little better.”
The boy gave it some thought. “You could order him,” he suggested. “You’re the squad commander.”
If only it were that simple. Olivia sighed. “I am, honey. But Uncle Rafa is not police, remember?”
“Yeah, but everyone does what you say. You’re the boss.”
She laughed again. “Not of you, apparently. Or you’d be wearing your PJs, like I told you.”
“I was going to! But then Uncle Rafa got sick, and I couldn’t leave him.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded, taking the teabag he’d chosen and tearing the paper off. “Tell you what. Why don’t I make tea for Uncle Rafa while you get ready for bed?”
Noah seemed to consider her offer. Everything was a negotiation as of late. “If I do, will you make me a cup of cocoa?”
“I might. If you promise to brush your teeth after with no fuss.”
“Deal.” The boy somberly shook her hand and bolted into his bedroom.
Olivia followed him with her eyes, making sure he didn’t stop by the bathroom door. Only then did she turn back to the stove where the ‘watched pot’ refused to boil.
With a sigh, she unlocked her phone and opened the web browser. The links she clicked after typing ‘how to help someone with migraines’ into the search window offered all kinds of suggestions, from herbal mixtures to acupuncture to neck massages. There was one thing that all of them had in common, though: sleeping it off in a very warm, completely quiet and dark place.
The couch in the living room was out of the question: the big window facing the street lacked shutters, so it was never completely dark; plus, it could get chilly at night. Noah’s room was dark, cozy, and always warm, but his bed was too small for a grown man, which was something she’d learned on her own skin after falling asleep there a few times only to wake up the following morning stiff and aching all over. The tiny guest room currently doubled as storage space, cluttered with boxes of stuff she’d been meaning to give away. Which only left her with one option, and Olivia heaved a sigh fully knowing how that conversation was going to go down.
Just then, a sharp shriek of the kettle pierced the air. Still flipping the browser pages, she made a lukewarm cup of cocoa for Noah, a mint tea with a few slices of lemon for Rafael, and a sencha sweetened with just a drizzle of honey for herself.
The doors to Noah’s room and the bathroom opened within seconds from one another.
Rafael barely had the time to hunker down when thirty pounds of pajama-clad relief rammed into him, nearly knocking them both backwards. Still dizzy, he awkwardly added his own arms to the fierce embrace that, in all honesty, was starting to feel like a chokehold.
“Are you all better?” Noah muffled into his shoulder.
Rafael stroked his back. “Not all. But getting there. I’m sorry I worried you,” he said, glancing up at Olivia who was looking down at the two with a fond smile. “Both of you.”
“Well, some of us aren’t done worrying,” she remarked, sighing as she inspected the spotless bathroom. “Rafa… For God’s sake… you didn’t have to clean.”
“Not my first rodeo,” quipped Rafael with a casual shrug. “That’s the upside of living with migraines for thirty years: you get really good at cleaning bathrooms. I used one of the spare toothbrushes I found in the drawer under the sink. And some mouthwash. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course, I don’t,” Olivia said, then looked at Noah. “C’mon, snuggle bunny. Why don’t you go drink your cocoa before you choke Uncle Rafa to death and your mom ends up spending another year house-breaking a new ADA.”
Noah giggled. “House-breaking. Get it? Like a dog.”
“Oh, I get it.” Rafael gave her a flippantly narrow stare that promised a swift and brutal retaliation.
He was still pale, but somehow seeing him smile made her eyes sting from relief and joy. When Noah barreled into the kitchen, she pulled Rafael onto his feet, keeping a hand under his elbow just in case.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, rubbing his upper arm. The bloody spots in his eyes where blood vessels had ruptured under the strain of gagging were making her heart squeeze.
“Well, on the plus side? I don’t think I got anything left to vomit.”
Olivia sighed. “And the headache? Any better?” When his only reply was a rueful smile, she shook her head. “I was just reading about migraines. The things people describe… I can’t even imagine living with something like that for thirty years.”
“People live with worse things,” said Rafael with a small shrug. “I don’t get as often as I used to. I think my first year at Harvard was the worst. Now it barely happens once a month, if that.”
“Still—”
“Mom?” Noah’s cheerful voice reached them both from somewhere inside the kitchen “Did you tell Uncle Rafa that he’s staying with us tonight?”
Her mouth closed, and she dropped her head with a stifled snort. “Leave it to a five-year-old to approach a delicate topic with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.”
“It’s ok,” said Rafael, to her surprise. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask if I could take you up on your old offer to sleep on your couch tonight.”
Despite everything, Olivia found herself laughing. “That was easy. I had a whole speech prepared.”
“Oh, you did, did you?” He gave her a semblance of a smirk. “Sorry to disappoint. If it helps, I’d love to hear it some other time. When I don’t feel like tearing my head off and tossing it out the window.”
His last words just made her feel more helpless, and feeling helpless wasn’t Olivia’s strong suit.
“Well, the couch is out of the question,” she said in a tone that brooked no argument. “The only room I can get warm and dark enough is mine.”
“Uh, no, Liv. I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
“You’re not kicking me out of anywhere. I’m vacating it for a sick friend. And you don’t get to argue. Not unless you want me to cuff you to that bed.”
Rafael raised a bemused eyebrow. Olivia heard what she just said. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know.” He laughed softly. “But I do wish you could see your face.”
Her cheeks did feel hot.
“Ok, then,” she changed the subject. “Let’s go have that tea you’ve asked for. You sure you can keep it down?”
“Only one way to find out.” He started toward the kitchen when Olivia caught him by the arm.
“One more thing.” Only now did he notice that she was holding something in her hand. “Here. I read that keeping the head warm when having a migraine is important.” Before he knew what was happening, she pulled the black, woolen hat she wore in winter over his ears. “Now you can have tea.”
Noah nearly tumbled out of his chair laughing when Rafael walked into the kitchen wearing his mother’s hat. “You look silly, Uncle Rafa.”
“Well, have you tried arguing with your mom?”
“Yeah! All the time!”
Rafael grunted. “I guess you’re better at it than I am.”
“Not really.” The boy fidgeted. “She always wins.”
“Yeah. I’ve noticed.” He took a small sip of his tea, feeling it burn its way down his acid-eroded esophagus. “This is very good, Noah,” he said, trying to hide a wince of pain. “Thank you.”
“Mom made it. I only chose the tea bag.”
“Well, you’ve chosen a very good one. I like mint.”
Noah’s face split in a proud smile.
***************************
The first time Olivia woke up to check on their patient, she opened the door to her room just a crack, shaking her head when she saw her son curled in a ball at the foot of the bed under the blanket he’d dragged from his own bedroom.
Gently picking him up, she took the sleepy bundle back to his bed, but as soon as she tucked him in, Noah opened his eyes, blinking. “I want to stay with Uncle Rafa. What if he feels sick again?”
“I don’t think he will, honey,” Olivia whispered, bending over to kiss his cheek. “You’ll see. In the morning, he’ll be all better.”
At least that was what the internet said…
“But mom… I didn’t get to read him ‘The Giving Tree’. He really likes it.”
“You mean you really like it.” She mussed his hair.
“Well yeah. ‘Cause Uncle Rafa is the giving tree.”
That gave her pause. “What do you mean?”
The boy turned on his side, pulling the blanket up to his ears with a yawn. “He always does things for us and he’s always happy.”
Olivia shook her head with a gentle smile, her heart breaking a little for reasons she was way too tired to figure out. “You’re a real groupie, you know that?”
“What’s a ‘groupie’?”
“It’s… someone who’s a big fan of another person.”
“Oh.” Noah’s eyelids began to droop. “I wish Uncle Rafa never left,” he murmured, already half-asleep. “He’s a good friend.”
“Yeah,” Olivia whispered into the void of his dark room. “He is.”
A better friend than I deserve, she almost added, gently stroking her son’s back. They’d been friends for what… five and a half years by now? And she still knew almost nothing about him. She didn’t blame him for never telling her he’d been suffering from what looked like rather debilitating migraines for thirty years. If anything, she blamed herself for never caring enough to ask. Whenever they talked, it was mostly about work or the things that she needed to talk about. Come to think of it, their friendship had always been somewhat one-sided.
Well… luckily, she had years ahead of them to make it up to him for all the times he’d listened to her problems and she hadn’t even bothered to ask him about his life. And she wanted to: she wanted to know about his childhood, his years in Harvard, his first cases. She wanted to know about him, the real him: not her friend, the ADA, but the man that her son saw, the person that hid behind that always composed, slick exterior and fancy suits.
When she closed the door to Noah’s room, she peeked into her bedroom again. In the deep darkness, she could barely make out Rafael’s sleeping form under the layers of blankets that she and Noah had piled on top of him to keep him warm.
At long last, she lay back on the couch and was out like a light in seconds.
The same story repeated itself three times: she’d wake up and go and check on Rafael, find that her son was there again, carry him back to his own bed.
On the fourth time, she relented. Bringing her own blanket, she moved Noah a little deeper into the large bed, curled her body around him to keep him from accidentally toppling off the edge, and pulled him close.
“I think Uncle Rafa is feeling better,” Noah murmured, half-asleep.
She kissed his head. “I hope so.”
“Can I read you ‘The Giving Tree’?”
Olivia sighed. “If you’re very, very quiet.”
“Ok.” She could barely hear the words as he started reciting his favorite book. “Once there was a tree… and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come… and he would gather her leaves… and make them into crowns and play king of the forest…”
He fell asleep after that, curled into her soft embrace, and Olivia stayed awake for a long time.
After a while, she heard Rafael stir in his sleep and call her name… or maybe she just imagined it.
“I’m here,” she whispered all the same, reaching over to touch his hand.
His warm fingers curled around it. Whether or not it was on purpose or just in sleep, she couldn’t say.
There was a long, pitted scar she’d never noticed that crossed his palm.
The last thought that filled her mind as sleep swaddled it in a soft blanket was that she was going to start being a better friend by asking him how he got it.
That… and many other things.