By teols2016
"Where is he?" Taylor Thomas queried.
Her sister, Abigail, looked around again.
"I don't know," she replied.
The nine-year-old girls were waiting outside PS 41 in Greenwich Village. School had just let out and they wanted to go home. After much negotiating they'd earned the right to make the ten-minute trip on their own. The caveats were they had to stay together, and they had to keep an eye on their six-year-old brother. If they violated either of these conditions, their unsupervised walks would be delayed another year with no avenue for appeal.
Taylor crossed her arms, frowning. There were still plenty of kids around with school aides watching everything. The twins had only gotten out of class ten minutes earlier, but she hated waiting. Matthew wasn't her responsibility.
"I'm learning to draw cartoons in art class," Abigail began. Her current life goal was to write books and do all the illustrations herself.
As she spoke, she interrupted her own narrative every so often to say "good-bye" to friends or teachers who walked past them. Taylor let her go on, catching every fifth word and nodding at random intervals. Even at her age, she recognized how different they were.
Both girls had long, red hair, pale skin, and freckles. Their noses were small, and they were even losing their baby teeth at a similar rate. But, for all their similar physical traits, the twins varied widely in personalities. Abigail was outgoing, happy to befriend anything with a pulse. While she was far from friendless, Taylor was quieter and more reserved. They both liked to read with Abigail preferring fantastical tales while Taylor preferred more realistic narratives and non-fiction.
Matthew finally emerged from the school building and located his sisters.
"Hey, guys!" he said, brushing some stray brown hairs out of his face.
"Come on," Taylor said. "Let's go. We've been waiting."
September was always an exciting month for Matthew. Starting kindergarten and then first grade presented a wealth of new opportunities to explore. Plus, his birthday was October 2, now three weeks away, and he was always giddy about this in the days prior. The twins, whose birthdays were August 12 and 13, were past their annual euphoria.
Matthew was growing quickly, having broken the four-foot milestone over the summer. His brown hair, matching his father's, no longer looked like anyone had needed to challenge it with a comb, but he was probably due for a haircut. He was proving to be very curious, his blue eyes always exploring his surroundings, though he wasn't always paying enough attention.
"Be careful!" Taylor cried, grabbing her brother's arm before he stepped off the curb. She pointed towards the red letters on the traffic light.
"Don't walk," she recited. "We have to wait."
A car passed them, and the red letters then disappeared. A few seconds later, "WALK" appeared, illuminated in green letters.
"Now we can," Matthew said, leading the way across the street.
Taylor sighed as she and Abigail followed.
They'd made it half a block when they saw blue lights up ahead. Moving closer, they saw police cars blocking the street. As they approached the intersection, a uniformed police officer intercepted them.
"You can't go this way, kids," the officer said. "Bad car accident. The block's shut down."
"We need to go this way to get home," Taylor protested.
"Can't let you through this way. You know another way?"
Taylor tried to recall the alternate route their father had shown them. They were to use that in case they couldn't go the regular way.
Meanwhile, Abigail was studying the street sign visible over the officer's shoulder.
"We're on 11th Street and 8th Avenue," she said.
The officer nodded, his smile suggesting he was impressed, but Abigail was ignoring him as she continued speaking to her siblings.
"We can get to Monique's store from here," she said, pointing down 8th Avenue.
This idea was met with universal approval. As they turned to head down 8th Avenue, they noticed an ambulance approaching the barricade the police had created in the street.
"Is everyone all right?" Taylor asked as the ambulance was waved through.
"I'm sure everyone will be fine," the officer said. "You guys know where you're going?"
"Yeah," Abigail replied, leading the way down 8th Avenue.
Taylor stood there, staring as the ambulance moved further down the block.
* * *
They needed to walk two blocks over and then turn in the same direction they'd originally come before being diverted. Half a block up, they entered Mallard's Book Corner, which was as far from any street corner as one could get in Manhattan.
"Hey," Frank Norris said as they entered. "What brings you guys here?"
The kids came to the bookstore after school about once a week, but he always acted like this was happening for the first time. He was sitting behind the register and, with no customers to attend to, had been perusing his iPad.
"They closed the street because of a car accident," Taylor explained. "We decided to come here instead."
Frank nodded. In his mid-forties with black hair which was growing white, he described himself as "a drifter without the drifting" with "little chattel" and "the smallest and cheapest apartment in Manhattan". He'd been working at the store for almost ten years and held a second job as a custodian for the New York City School District.
"Where's everybody?" Matthew queried.
"Lizzie's between the shelves somewhere," Frank replied. "Monique's in her office in the back. She isn't feeling well."
"What's wrong?"
"Not sure. Nothing to worry about though."
* * *
Monique Vasquez sat behind her desk, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Another wave of nausea, the second of the day, was waning. She hadn't vomited yet, which she was grateful for, but the urge was still there. Monique was ready for this day to be over, though she couldn't picture tomorrow being any better.
The large, thick, beige envelope lay on the desk in front of her, half of it covering her computer keyboard. Monique felt it staring back at her, its message clear. She had to open it, for everyone's sake. She couldn't believe it had come to this.
A soft knock on her office door became a welcome distraction.
"Come in," Monique said, tearing her gaze away from the envelope.
The twins and Matthew entered.
"What are you doing here?" Monique asked, managing to hide her current discomfort with a smile.
"They blocked our way home," Taylor replied, recounting their encounter with the police officer.
"Okay. I'll text your dad and let him know where you are. Go upstairs and I'll be up in a bit to find you some snacks."
She needed to pee and knew this would be at least a ten-minute scenario. But she couldn't wait.
As the kids scurried up the stairs just outside her office, Monique took hold of the joystick of her wheelchair. She maneuvered around her desk and into her private bathroom.
The bathroom was almost as big as her office, she having split the hundred-and-eighty-square-foot space in half when she inherited the store. It contained a sink and toilet and was big enough to accommodate her wheelchair as well as the support rails she needed to get on and off the commode on her own.
Monique pressed a button next to her chair's joystick and the buckles for the straps over her legs, waist, chest, and shoulders simultaneously released. Feeling the straps loosen, Monique reached out and grabbed the nearest rail for support. In another minute, she managed to lift and scooch herself from her wheelchair onto the toilet seat. She then lifted herself twice more until she managed to pull her pants and underwear down. Relief then came as Monique tried to keep her mind from wandering back to the envelope. She'd have to open it soon and the thought washed a sense of shame over her.
* * *
If Lizzie Travis realized how often she'd been summoned to Monique's office to strap her boss's legs back into her chair since her hiring, she didn't say anything. She'd been at the store for almost six months. Monique only knew this fact from the records she needed to keep as the transition had felt that seamless. A tall woman, she had sharp brown eyes and long, graying red hair which she usually kept tied back in a simple ponytail. So far, she was good with the customers, something Monique needed with everything that'd happened.
"How are you feeling?" Lizzie asked, having not missed Monique's discomfort since the earlier mail delivery.
"I'm okay," Monique replied. She was feeling a little better, though that was sure to shift again.
Lizzie nodded and went back into the store. Monique moved her chair to her private elevator. The building's second floor was an apartment which, until recently, she'd called "home". Now, she spent about half her time there. The one-bedroom apartment was sparsely furnished and modestly decorated with a small kitchenette and another, even larger bathroom with a handicapped-accessible shower. Monique was still paying off the building loans she took out for the extensive renovations she commissioned when she took over the bookstore. Now, she and Jefferson were paying off a similar loan for similar work done on his house, even though he'd insisted he could just cover those costs. Monique had refused this option, insisting they needed to do things this way for their relationship to work. While not full of himself, Jefferson still owed his affluent life to his family's fortune.
The elevator opened onto the apartment's main room. Monique found the kids sprawled out on her two olive green couches, their shoes, jackets, and backpacks littering the floor.
"School can't be that hard," she remarked. "Move your stuff so I can get by and see what I've got for you guys to eat."
As the kids slowly rose and moved their things, her phone, in a cradle attached to her wheelchair, chimed and vibrated. Glancing down, Monique saw a reply from Jefferson, acknowledging her report of the kids' whereabouts.
Thanks. I'll let Anya know. See you tomorrow.
Monique remembered Jefferson had some sort of business dinner to attend that evening, though she couldn't configure such a scenario being necessary in the working life of a law professor. Sure, he took on an occasional client seeking a defense attorney, but none had ever required a dinner meeting. Maybe he had to meet the dean.
Monique's kitchenette had been largely untouched during the renovation. Not being much of a cook, she saw no need to expand this. The space was just big enough for her chair while preventing anyone else from entering.
"I think I've got some yogurt in here," Monique said, pulling open the refrigerator door. "Yes, I've got strawberry, vanilla and ... blueberry."
Hearing the kids' requests, she retrieved the small, plastic containers and, clutching them to her chest, put her chair in reverse. The cold soon made her skin tingle beneath her sweater.
"Watch out!" she called as she gingerly eased the joystick back, hoping she could keep both her arms steady. She'd struck the wall by the kitchen's entrance on more than one occasion. This time, young torsos and appendages were the bigger concern. She was grateful not to feel any impact.
"We'll have pizza tonight and then I'll take you guys home," she said, remembering Jefferson's nanny went off-duty at 5:30. He'd planned to pay her overtime to watch the kids while he was at his dinner.
Following Monique's instructions, the kids retrieved their own spoons and juice containers from the kitchenette. Monique couldn't help thinking how big this room looked as these tiny figures moved through it.
"Not happening," she said, catching Matthew eyeing the bottle of Sprite in her fridge. She left it to Jefferson to monitor their sugar intake and didn't contribute to it with soda.
"Please," Matthew said.
"No," Monique repeated. "You're awake enough and you've got that apple juice in your hand already."
Matthew put the apple juice back on the fridge shelf where he'd found it and turned back to Monique.
"No," she repeated. "It's that apple juice or water."
Resigned, Matthew grabbed the apple juice again and closed the refrigerator door. As he joined his sisters at Monique's dining table to consume his afternoon snack, Monique's phone chimed again with a text from Anya. The nanny also acknowledged the kids' whereabouts and asked if Monique wanted her to pick them up.
"No," Monique dictated to her phone, her words appearing on the screen. "I can bring them later. Thank you."
Sending the message, she turned her attention back to the kids.
"I'm going back downstairs," she reported. "I'll be back to check on you in a little while. You can watch TV for an hour, but then you're doing homework."
"What if we don't have any?" Abigail asked.
Monique raised an eyebrow. Abigail knew better than to say anything else.
"One hour," Monique repeated. "Come get me if you need anything."
She took her elevator back down to her office and pulled her wheelchair back behind her desk. She sighed as she came face-to-face with the envelope again. Taking a deep breath, she pushed it aside and logged back into her computer and pulled up her e-mail. As she reviewed her new messages, eight which came in while she'd taken the kids upstairs, she considered when she would tackle the documents. She'd have to do so soon.
Even though Monique was an independent person, moving around Greenwich Village with ease and familiarity, people still noticed her and what she was doing, where she was going, and what she was buying. It'd been that way all her life and she usually didn't mind. This was different. She hadn't even told Jefferson.
Monique glanced at the envelope, now near the edge of her desk. What would people say if they knew?
In her late thirties, Monique had long brown hair which she liked despite it being a pain to manage with her chair. She always had to make sure it wasn't between her back and the cushion. Some of her friends compared her to the actress Ashley Jud, though her chair tended to spook men who might otherwise make the same comparison. Thankfully, that fact was no longer an issue.
Thinking about Jefferson and their last two years together, Monique again wondered where he was going tonight. What sort of dinner was this? She wasn't upset that he hadn't asked her to come, but she was curious why he never suggested her joining him as being an option. He'd often asked her to accompany him to work-related events.
Monique felt another growing wave of nausea. Yes, she was curious, though there were other things she needed to focus on first. She cast another glance at the envelope and decided it would wait until tomorrow.
| Author Notes |
Cast of Characters:
Jefferson Thomas: NYU law professor. Uncle/adopted father of Abigail, Taylor, and Matthew. Monique Vasquez: Jefferson's girlfriend. Owns and manages a small bookstore in Greenwich Village in New York City. Abigail Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Taylor. Older sister of Matthew. Taylor Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Abigail. Older sister of Matthew. Matthew Thomas: nephew/adopted son of Jefferson. Younger brother of Taylor and Abigail. Frank White: long-time employee at Monique's bookstore. Lizzie Travis: new employee at Monique's bookstore. Anya Motkova: Jefferson's live-in nanny. Feedback, especially recommendations for additions/subtractions/revisions are always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy! |
By teols2016
Previously in "Dulcius Ex Asperis":
NYU law professor Jefferson Thomas and bookstore owner Monique Vasquez have adjusted well to their new lives and relationship, established in the previous book. Now, now opportunities and challenges present themselves.
"So, how did Mahanoy impact Tinker?" Jefferson Thomas pressed, standing behind the lectern at the front of the classroom.
While he'd never considered himself a legal nerd like his friend Eric, he had been looking forward to presenting this topic. Mahanoy Area School District v. B.L. was decided by the United States Supreme Court the previous summer. It hadn't even been added to the course textbook yet and he'd tasked the students with reading up on it alongside the usual assignment.
By contrast, Tinker v. Des Moines Independent Community School District was in any book remotely related to the First Amendment. Decided in 1969, it was a landmark ruling. With Associate Justice Abe Fortas writing the majority opinion, seven of the nine justices of that time determined a school had a right to regulate its students' speech when said speech had the potential to cause disruption to normal operations. Of course, Tinker never accounted for social media or cell phones with cameras.
"Let's hear from Sarah Hennis," Jefferson said, selecting from the names he could recall on the spot.
He waited a few seconds.
"Mahanoy address a student's off-campus speech and actions," a male voice said.
Jefferson knew this was Sarah's sign language interpreter, the woman being Deaf. He believed the man's name was Lewis Dodson.
"The Third Circuit Court of Appeals admitted the student's posting was 'crude, rude, and juvenile,'" the interpreter continued, "but they ruled that, since the post was made while the student was at an off-campus location, the school had no standing to discipline her for it under Tinker. The Supreme Court agreed with the Third Circuit, upholding their ruling, but Justice Breyer was careful to write in the majority opinion that this case should not be considered as precedence to determine when a school had a right to regulate off-campus speech. They overruled that part of the Third Circuit's ruling."
"How will courts determine which off-campus speech can be regulated in the future?" Jefferson asked.
"The Supreme Court is leaving that to the lower courts to decide in future litigation."
"Which means," Jefferson said to the class at large, "we have exciting things coming in the world of Constitutional Law. I hope you all will be paying attention."
He doubted more than a quarter of the class would, but he still felt it was prudent to suggest the idea.
"That's all for today," he said. "We'll pick up with Lee v. Weisman next week."
As the students packed up their books, he pressed the button on the upper-right corner of his watch.
"6:02," the electronic voice recited.
Jefferson was short on time. He was supposed to be at dinner at 6:30 and still had a few things to do first. Of course, he'd been given an early-evening class to teach this semester. Further complicating matters was the dinner arrangements hadn't been his to make.
He grabbed his briefcase from the chair behind the desk next to the classroom's lectern.
"Up," he said.
His guide dog, a tall yellow Labrador Retriever named Presley, sprang to her feet and stretched. As usual, she'd been sleeping with her back against the wall behind the desk and lectern. Having been paired with Jefferson six years ago, she was very used to his classroom lectures. She'd become bored by them five years and eleven months ago.
"You finished?" Jefferson queried. The dog usually had a stretching routine at the end of every class.
Presley shook, her collar tags and harness jingling, and came over to her handler. Jefferson found her leash and harness handle.
"Forward," he directed. "Find the door."
Pausing in the open doorway at the front of the classroom, Presley led him down the corridor towards the elevator.
"Steady," Jefferson reminded her.
Presley learned every semester's new class schedule within a few days and she knew when their day was just about finished. Like all guide dogs, she thrived on routine.
They headed up to Jefferson's office. Jefferson kept Presley in her harness as he planned on staying less than five minutes. He was supposed to be at Da Raffaele in just over twenty minutes, and it would be a fifteen-minute drive, if Manhattan traffic cooperated. Thankfully, Monique and Anya had the kids taken care of and he'd fed Presley during the earlier break in the class.
He skimmed through his Outlook inbox as quickly as his screen reading software enabled him to without missing an e-mail's subject line. Satisfied there was nothing requiring an urgent response, he engaged his computer's shutdown process and jumped up from his chair before his screen went dark.
"Come on," he encouraged and Presley fell back into step on his left side.
He almost ran into Eric Nelson on his way out of his office, his friend barely able to jump out of the way.
"In a hurry, huh?" Eric asked, falling into step behind and to the right of Jefferson and Presley. "What's this dinner all about, anyway? Sounds mysterious."
"I'll tell you when I know," Jefferson replied. Apart from the name of the people inviting him, he didn't know much more.
"The kids are okay, right?" Eric asked.
Jefferson could not figure out how a mysterious dinner invitation correlated with the twins or Matthew being in some kind of jeopardy. But Eric had been his lawyer when he applied to be their legal guardian and later when he officially adopted the three of them. Plus, he and his wife, Amy, were close with them. His concern was valid, if misplaced.
"They're fine," Jefferson said, stopping to look back towards his friend. "Monique's with them."
Eric nodded.
"Well," he said, "I'll bug you tomorrow then. I want to know what's going on. I've also got some news of my own."
His tone made it clear he too could keep things a mystery.
* * *
Jefferson's Uber pulled up outside Da Raffaele and he couldn't resist checking the time on his watch. It was 6:29. He'd actually made it, even with stopping to let Presley relieve herself outside the law school building.
"Get out on your right and the door is straight ahead of you," the driver said.
Not many drivers, taxi or Uber, showed this sort of consideration and Jefferson appreciated it.
His phone chimed as he entered the restaurant. His ride was completed and he elected to give the driver, Gustave, a twenty percent tip.
"Can I help you," the host asked.
"I'm meeting Tobias Sterns," Jefferson explained.
"Yes. Mr. Sterns was just seated. Can you follow me?"
"Sure."
Jefferson instructed Presley to follow and soon reached a table set for five. Tobias Sterns, who'd been speaking to someone, stopped the conversation.
"Jefferson," he said. "Glad you could come. How have you been?"
"Good, thanks," Jefferson said as the host guided his hand towards the pulled-out chair. He and Tobias Sterns hadn't actually seen each other in almost two years. At first, that was Jefferson's doing, but then Covid prevented future meetings. Still, they'd kept in touch.
"I believe you know Robin Walker," Tobias said, sitting as well. "And this is Denise Yang, our newly-elected Third Vice Chair.
The two women exchanged greetings with Jefferson. Robin Walker had been his first contact in the Manhattan Democratic Committee and he'd heard of Denise Yang before, even if he couldn't recall having met her on any previous occasions.
"Steven's on his way," Tobias explained. "He texted me ... something about construction."
"Will you keep me in suspense until then?" Jefferson queried.
He'd known Tobias Sterns for twelve years. Even though the man was the Committee's chair for the past eight years, Jefferson was comfortable being blunt when speaking with him. And today, Tobias had invited him.
"Let's order drinks first," Tobias insisted. "I have no intention of drawing this out as we'll have a lot to talk about no matter where this conversation goes."
Jefferson agreed, having reviewed Da Raffaele's online menu during lunch.
Steven Esparza, the Committee's Second Vice Chair, arrived just after they'd given their drink orders. Waiting for him to then receive his cocktail furthered the wait, leaving Jefferson to keep wondering why he was meeting with almost the entire Committee's leadership. The most prominent missing person was State Senator Robert Forster.
"I'm glad we could all sit down," Tobias said when Steven Esparza's drink order arrived. "Jefferson, you know I don't mince words. We invited you here tonight to talk about the Congressional seat. You know Murphy's pushing eighty and he feels ready to retire."
Jefferson nodded. He'd voted for Adam Murphy for as long as he'd lived in Greenwich Village. He was starting to see where this was going, but he'd let Tobias continue. For one thing, he wasn't sure how to react if his intuition was right.
"You've been a generous supporter for many years, both financially and in terms of advocacy," Tobias said. "We all understand what's happened in your personal life over the past couple of years, but that does not discount your efforts and the connections you've made on our behalf."
For wanting to get to the point, Jefferson thought he was taking is time. The three Vice Chairs didn't seem to mind. Why were there three of them here anyway?
"Jefferson," Tobias said, "the party would like to know if you would be interested in running for the seat."
Despite this topic having suggested itself in his mind, Jefferson was still momentarily stunned. Sure, he'd been interested in politics since high school, but he'd never considered actually running for something. He'd been content with donating to and volunteering to support people who shared his ideas.
"Jefferson," Steven Esparza jumped in, "we could win the seat with almost anyone. We have kept it for decades. But we recognize the national tone. Despite everything that happened, recent Presidential elections have shown that voters don't want Washington insiders. Other elections have followed suit. When was the last time you were in Washington?"
Jefferson had to smile at this.
"A conference for Constitutional Law scholars three years ago," he replied.
"That was held at the Kennedy Center, right?" Denise Yang asked.
"Yes."
"Jefferson," Tobias said. "You have an appeal here. Sure, you have money, but who doesn't. The district's median income is six figures. But, people like you. You have ideas. You have a story."
"What about the primaries?" Jefferson queried, now understanding why Senator Forster wasn't here. As the Committee's elected leader, the man would not pick a favorite candidate anytime soon.
"We haven't decided whether to hold those or simply have our convention and pick the nominee there," Tobias explained. "This here will probably be our only serious talk about the idea until mid-November."
Knowing the mayoral election was heating up, Jefferson had been surprised the group had even asked him to come to this dinner. He'd considered their invitation having something to do with that, but he doubted it. He was already supporting Eric Adams and that election was just two months away.
"You're no stranger to politics," Tobias pointed out, "but no one can get away with calling you an insider. It won't be easy, especially if the party votes to hold a primary, but we think you can make it."
He then noticed the waitress approaching.
"Let's eat something," he suggested.
They placed their orders.
"I'll have the salmon," Jefferson said when the waitress prompted him for his order. At the moment, it was the only item he could recall. Good thing he enjoyed fish. He did wonder why it was simply called "Salmon". But he quickly focused on more important matters again.
"I need to talk to Monique," he said when the waitress was gone again. He wasn't even sure how many people at this table knew of Monique. Partially thanks to the pandemic, the number of events she'd attended with him could be counted on one hand. She voted, but she'd never had a strong interest in politics.
He also thought of the kids. They'd had plenty happen to them. Could he turn their lives upside-down again? How much would be expected of them? He'd have to talk to them as well.
"Of course," Tobias said. He was probably the only person here who could recall who Monique was. Or he'd done his research.
"There are a lot of things that need to be discussed with a lot of people," Robin added. "Like Tobias said, this is a preliminary discussion."
"You'd still like an answer from me sooner rather than later," Jefferson figured.
"Not tonight," Tobias said.
He halted the conversation again as their food came.
"Think of this as us planting the seed," he then elaborated. "As you can tell, we are taking this idea very seriously."
Jefferson wondered if this dinner would come to haunt them once anyone else made an attempt to get this nomination. The Republicans wouldn't care as they had the same quiet dealings going on in situations like this.
"What does Adam Murphy think of this?" Jefferson asked.
"Adam is ready to retire," Tobias replied. "I think he's already picked his favorite fishing spots upstate. If we present a suitable successor, he'll give his endorsement."
Jefferson was sure his name had not yet been presented to Adam Murphy, even if he had supported the man's campaign's in the past. That fact could sway the aging Congressman to his side.
"Let me think about it," he said, ready to focus on his fish.
â??
| Author Notes |
A sequel to "Par Angusta Ad Augusta".
Cast of Characters: Jefferson Thomas: NYU law professor. Uncle/adopted father of Abigail, Taylor, and Matthew. Monique Vasquez: Jefferson's girlfriend. Owns and manages a small bookstore in Greenwich Village in New York City. Abigail Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Taylor. Older sister of Matthew. Taylor Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Abigail. Older sister of Matthew. Matthew Thomas: nephew/adopted son of Jefferson. Younger brother of Taylor and Abigail. Anya Motkova: Jefferson's live-in nanny. Eric Nelson: Jefferson's NYU colleague and best friend. Amy Nelson: Eric's wife. Feedback, especially recommendations for additions/subtractions/revisions are always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy! |
By teols2016
Previously in "Dulcius Ex Asperis":
NYU law professor Jefferson Thomas and bookstore owner Monique Vasquez have adjusted well to their new lives and relationship, established in the previous book. Now, now opportunities and challenges present themselves.
Monique woke with a start when Presley bowled into the bedroom and licked her hand, which had been resting near the edge of the mattress. Sure, Jefferson never turned on any lights on the rare occasions when he came home late, but that didn't matter now. With the dog out of her harness, any apendidges within tongue range were fair game.
Monique groaned.
"Sorry about that," Jefferson said, moving across the room towards the closet.
"It's okay," Monique said, withholding a groan. Studying the luminescent dials on the alarm clock, she realized it was almost 10:00. She must have just fallen asleep after at least an hour of metaphorical tossing and turning. Her mind had just begun to settle.
"How was your dinner?" she queried, wondering what else had gone on to keep him out so late.
"Fine," Jefferson replied. "The kids give you any problems?"
"No. We did fine."
It was times like this that Monique was thankful her store and his home were pretty close together. Rerouting her nurses at the last minute wasn't such a logistical nightmare.
"You were out late," she remarked.
She wasn't going to bring up what she was really thinking about. He sounded tired. Plus, she hadn't counted on being woken by Presley ... or maybe she'd hoped not to be woken by Presley.
Jefferson changed and climbed into bed next to her. Monique rolled over, listening as he set his alarm and got comfortable. The latter seemed to take a while.
"Good night," he said.
"Good night," Monique returned.
Jefferson lay in the dark, listening to her breathing as she went back to sleep. He also heard Presley settling into her dog bed in the corner.
His mind was still racing. He knew he couldn't wait to tell Monique about the dinner. He could put it off tonight since they were both tired, but the conversation couldn't be postponed beyond twenty-four hours.
His mind flashed through the past two years. He'd known Monique that entire time, but their relationship hadn't progressed right. They'd been physically separated throughout the pandemic and she'd only begun staying over again two months ago. The two had never had a serious discussion about their future, the idea of marrying, etc.
If he decided to run and actually won the Congressional seat, he'd spend weeks and months out of every year down in Washington. Sure, he could easily afford to get a small apartment just for himself down there. But the kids would need to stay in New York. He had to keep his New York residency, so that made the most sense. But someone would need to be there for them when he couldn't be. Sure, he had Anya, but she was their nanny. Right now, the woman on the other side of his bed was the most obvious choice. She would probably agree to do it, but would she feel obligated to do it?
Jefferson released a long breath and continued staring at nothing.
* * *
Anya Motkova was a machine ... more than one person had called her that. As usual, she rose from her bed at 5:00 and dressed for jogging. The rest of the brownstone's occupants had yet to be woken by this routine and her slipping out through the front door. Thirty minutes later, she was back and taking a shower.
By 6:00, she was again emerging from her mini apartment on the ground floor. Tying her long, blonde hair into a ponytail, she crossed the den and found Jefferson in the kitchen, waiting for the coffeemaker to finish his first cup of the day.
"Good morning," Anya said, retrieving a mug for herself.
"Morning," Jefferson returned with a yawn. He figured he'd gotten maybe five and a half hours of sleep before giving up on any further prospects.
"You are staying home today, right?" Anya queried, retrieving and filling her tea kettle. Though her English was very good thanks to her collegiate studies, her Russian accent and dialect still slipped through here and there.
"Yeah," Jefferson confirmed. He had no Wednesday classes this semester and chose not to keep office hours that day, allowing him to stay home. With the kids in school, most of the day was pretty quiet. He wondered how quiet and relaxing things would be after he and Monique talked.
"I will do the shopping today," Anya reported. "Do you want to add anything else to the list?"
"Let me put at least one cup of coffee inside my body before I think about that," Jefferson emplored.
"Yes."
The coffeemaker finished filling Jefferson's mug and he took it out. As he added milk and sugar, he heard Anya setting her kettle on the stove.
* * *
Monique's nurse, Elaine Williams, arrived at 6:30. Jefferson was in his home office, checking his e-mail and Anya had gone into the basement to start a load of laundry. Elaine had a key, so their presence wasn't needed for her to gain entry into the house.
The nurse made her way up to the third floor, where Monique was still lying in bed.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning," Monique returned, still deep in thought.
Their routine proceeded as usual. Elaine checked Monique's vitals and then helped her out of bed and into her wheelchair. Monique had yet to shower at Jefferson's house and she wouldn't start with that today. But, the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom had been renovated enough to let her use the toilet and sink.
When she was done in the bathroom, Elaine helped Monique change into slacks and a light sweater.
"Would you like help with breakfast?" the nurse inquired.
"No," Monique declined. She wasn't sure she could eat, even if she probably ought to consume something.
"Okay," Elaine said, putting Monique's dirty clothes in a laundry hamper in a corner of the bedroom. "Have a nice day."
Monique nodded and maneuvered her chair out of the bedroom. At the end of the hallway was something she'd initially found shocking. During their year-long, Covid-induced separation, Jefferson had gotten an elevator installed. With a city inspector reviewing the plan on-site almost a year ago and Jefferson, Anya, and the kids relocating to his parents' second house in New Hampshire for two months, he had a working elevator in his house so his girlfriend could come and go at will. He rarely used it himself and the kids were forbidden from using it.
They had been dating for about nine months when the pandemic hit. They'd never talked about moving in together and spent most of their nights together in her apartment. At first, Monique was angry he'd done this without consulting her. But she ultimately realized that, as stupid and impulsive the idea had been, it was his house. She'd come to suppose, on some level, that this was his way of expressing faith in their relationship. After all, they'd talked almost every day during the pandemic.
Conceding to this, she nonetheless forced him into splitting the costs of other necessary handicap-accessible renovations, particularly in his master bathroom and the ramp at his front door.
Riding the elevator down to the ground floor, Monique thought about the envelope again. It was still sealed and still on her desk, though the risk of it going over the edge was less precarious. She'd have to open and address its contents today , even if it would be another major expense in the long run. Not for the first time, she considered just shredding the thing and calling it quits. She wouldn't be the first and, yes, nothing lasted forever.
Monique sighed. Growing up, she'd enjoyed playing The Game of Life. This situation had never come up at any point in that game ... at least not under these circumstances.
* * *
The kids left for school with just the usual fuss and resistance. Anya headed to the grocery store soon after, offering no resistance. Jefferson had been tempted to ask when she planned to return, but he didn't want to tip her off to anything through such an out-of-the-ordinary action. He decided to just hope she wouldn't interrupt anything.
They sat across from each other at the large dining table just outside the brownstone's kitchen. Jefferson had another cup of coffee in front of him while Monique had a tumbler of tea attached to her chair, a straw situated near her mouth for easy access. Neither had eaten anything, being too preoccupied to worry about digesting anything.
"So," Jefferson said, "I assume you are curious about where I was last night?"
Monique considered the choice of words. Sure she was curious, but just because it came off as mysterious when he first told her about it.
"I assume I can rule out another woman," Monique agreed, too distracted with her own thoughts.
Jefferson managed a weak chuckle. He then took a deep breath and drank some of his coffee. He frowned. This cup's milk-to-coffee ratio was off.
"Is everything okay?" Monique asked, noticing his discomfort. "What happened at that dinner?"
For a moment, she considered the possibility of it having to do with another woman.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jefferson said. "Monique, my dinner was a meeting with the leadership of the Manhattan Democratic Committee."
"What did they want?" Monique asked. She was sure it was something about fundraising. She got enough of those e-mails herself ... all because she'd signed up to support a cause endorsed by First Lady Michelle Obama. She wasn't even sure what it was anymore. Her e-mail address had been passed along ever since.
"They're floating my name for Congress," Jefferson explained. "Adam Murphy is looking to retire and they asked me if I was interested in running."
Monique blinked, trying to place the name. She'd probably gotten e-mails from him at some point.
Jefferson described the dinner as quickly as he could. After their initial pitch. Tobias Stern and his vice chairs reviewed some potential campaign staffers and endorsement opportunities.
"Nothing's definite until after the mayoral election in November," the leader had finished. "They are interested in having me."
Monique was definitely not expecting this. Sure, Jefferson was active within the Democratic Party. She'd been his date to a few fundraising dinners and similar events. He'd told her about candidates he supported, those being anywhere from presidential down to School Board contenders. He'd never talked about running himself.
"Are you even interested?" Monique asked, deciding to focus on that last thought first. "You've never said anything ..."
"I know," Jefferson replied. "I mean, I've thought about it, but who hasn't fantasized about things like that? It was never serious before."
"So, you are now thinking about it?"
"Of course, I am. I mean, I definitely never dreamed someone would put an opportunity like this right in front of me."
Monique could admit he was making good points. She also realized why he was talking to her about this so soon in the decision-making process.
"What are you expecting from me?" she asked.
"I know we never really talked too much about ... us ... our future," Jefferson said, "but I'm looking to keep things as 'us' for the long haul."
"I'd like that too."
"This would become a number in the equation of 'us'," Jefferson explained. "If I do this, I would like your support, especially just between us. Then, there is the whirlwind standing one and a half years ahead of us, and that's only the beginning of how this would affect everything."
Monique knew he was now including Abigail, Taylor, and Matthew in his "equation". Despite her position seeming to be secure, they were less likely to be pushed out of his life than her. Still, they too had needs.
"You'd need my help with the kids," she concluded, "during the campaign and beyond, if the first part goes favorably."
"Yeah," Jefferson said. "I'd be gone much more ... pretty much a hundred percent more."
"What about Anya?"
Monique couldn't help thinking about the fact that, despite attaining U.S. citizenship, Anya had been born in Russia to Russian parents. She was going to St. Petersburg for Christmas in a few months.
"I'm not looking to kick her out, assuming she'll want to stay," Jefferson said. "But it would be three against one."
Monique nodded. Those numbers were off. They'd definitely need Anya.
"What did you tell them?" she asked. "At the dinner, I mean."
"That I need time to think about it," Jefferson replied. "They're focusing on the mayoral election anyway, so they're not pressing yet."
Monique couldn't help wondering about something else.
"What they did," she asked. "Is it even legal for them to ask you like that?"
"It isn't illegal, but someone will claim they're rigging the election. We're in a solid-blue district, so it's always a matter of which Democrat wins it. Adam Murphy's been their guy for over fifteen years. He's looking to leave, which is why they're looking for who's next. It will make some waves, but I'm not sure how high they'll be."
Monique wasn't sure what to make of that.
"You will think about it, right?" she asked. "I mean, you haven't made up your mind in just twelve hours?"
"Of course not," Jefferson confirmed.
"Then I need to think about it as well. And, you need to talk to Anya and the kids."
Jefferson wondered how she could think he had any other options.
Monique took a couple deep breaths.
"Okay," she said. "Let me know if you want to talk again."
| Author Notes |
A sequel to "Par Angusta Ad Augusta".
Cast of Characters: Jefferson Thomas: NYU law professor. Uncle/adopted father of Abigail, Taylor, and Matthew. Monique Vasquez: Jefferson's girlfriend. Owns and manages a small bookstore in Greenwich Village in New York City. Abigail Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Taylor. Older sister of Matthew. Taylor Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Abigail. Older sister of Matthew. Matthew Thomas: nephew/adopted son of Jefferson. Younger brother of Taylor and Abigail. Anya Motkova: Jefferson's live-in nanny. Elaine Williams: one of Monique's nurses. Feedback, especially recommendations for additions/subtractions/revisions are always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy! |
By teols2016
Previously in "Dulcius Ex Asperis":
NYU law professor Jefferson Thomas and bookstore owner Monique Vasquez have adjusted well to their new lives and relationship, established in the previous book. Now, now opportunities and challenges present themselves.
With all that happened in the last eighteen hours, Jefferson forgot Eric having mentioned he wanted to talk until his friend texted him. With Monique having left for the bookstore, they agreed to meet at the former's home with the latter bringing lunch.
Eric arrived around a quarter to noon, carrying several plastic cartons.
"Brought you Philadelphia Rolls," he announced. "Your favorite."
"Thanks," Jefferson said as Eric set the food on the table and settled himself in a chair.
"What's going on with you?" Jefferson queried as his friend open his own container of Spicy Tuna rolls. "You seem very mysterious yesterday."
Eric paused and then grinned.
"Congratulate me," he said. "I'm a dad all over again."
"Really?" Jefferson asked, surprised more than anything else.
"Yeah, Amy just started in her second trimester, so we've begun telling people."
Jefferson knew the couple's first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage. They'd already done everything but place an ad in the New York Times when it happened three months into it. The couple had been much more careful ever since.
Eric nearly dropped the roll he had been bringing to his mouth. He'd been practicing using chopsticks and prided himself on his progress, even if it could be described as "slow" at best.
"Are you joking?" Jefferson asked.
"No," Eric replied, swallowing. "I thought the same when Amy told me."
"I didn't know you guys were trying."
"We weren't," Eric admitted, poking another roll with a chopstick.
Jefferson considered this.
"What happened?" he asked. He knew Eric and Amy were careful when it came to contraception. Selfishly, he was fishing for hints that he and Monique needed to adjust their own precautions.
Eric chuckled.
"Please tell me your parents had this talk with you already," he said.
Jefferson ate another of his rolls. Unlike his friend, he never bothered with chopsticks and used one of the plastic forks the restaurant provided.
Eric also took another roll, chewed, and swallowed.
"Keith was a surprise for us," he recounted. "We tried every trick in the book when we were trying to conceive. Took us almost a year before Sam was a reality. About three years later, Keith just popped up in Amy. To this day, I don't know if it was a defective condom or what. Now I'll have two kids whose origins require an investigation."
Jefferson flinched at the mention of faulty contraceptives.
"You and Monique are being careful, right?" Eric inquired.
"Yeah," Jefferson said, now more uncomfortable. "Always."
"Good. The campaign pregnancy worked for Jackie Kennedy, but I'm not sure how that would play today."
"You're assuming I'll run," Jefferson said.
"Will you?"
Jefferson had absolutely no idea.
* * *
Monique couldn't believe she was doing this. willing her body to cooperate, she slipped the blade of her letteropener into the slit of the large envelope's flap. Carefully pushing the instrument in deeper, she then concentrated on pushing it up.
The paper gave. Seeing the corners of the documents inside, Monique felt a fresh wave of queeziness. Understanding she needed to keep going, she pushed the letteropener across.
Three sharp knocks on her office door interrupted her work.
"Come in," Monique said, setting the envelope and letteropener on her desk.
The knocker tried the door, but it didn't open. The metallic thuds reminded Monique she'd locked the door. She hadn't wanted anyone to walk in on her.
"Hang on," she said. "I'm coming."
She maneuvered her chair around her desk. Reaching the door, she fumbled with the lock, needing two tries before she was able to unlock it. She settled her shaking arms back on her chair's armrests as Lizzie opened the door.
"Hey," the tall redhead said, "I'm going to lunch."
"Okay," Monique said. "I'll head up front to watch the register."
She moved forward and turned left to enter the store as Lizzie exited through the building's rear door.
As she moved along the shelves, Monique reflected how so much had changed. Two years ago, she'd had this store with three employees. Frank and Kathy Quigley were inherited when she took over the place upon her mother's retirement. She had a rotating roster of college students serving as a third worker. Back then, they often all ate lunch together in the store, Monique sometimes footing the entire bill. Business had been decent despite the competition from the chain stores and online retailers. Monique had managed to avoid buyout offers from more than one major corporation. She loved her work and her customers. She didn't want to leave for the better life she'd been offered. Plus, the offers sometimes came with a definition of "better" she didn't agree with.
Situating herself behind the register, Monique set one hand on her stomach. The envelope on her desk might as well be on the counter in front of her.
Her life only improved when she met Jefferson. It had been almost a cliché with her noticing him entering her store with the twins and Matthew surrounding him. They were a new family then, the kids having just moved into his brownstone. They'd all seemed so nervous and tentative back then.
"You okay, Boss?" Frank queried.
Turning her head, Monique saw him working further down the counter. Like so many other businesses, they'd established a curbside pickup option for customers to pick up orders with Monique teaching herself enough website design skills to set up a payment venue on the store's website. The site had first been set up by one of the graduate students working under her for a semester or two. Apart from updating the information about the store's inventory, Monique hadn't touched it much until the pandemic.
"I'm okay," she told Frank. "Just thinking."
It was a reasonable response which didn't invite suspicion. So much had changed in the bookstore alone, starting with the staff. After they were all ordered to lock down by the Mayor and Governor in March of the previous year, Kathy decided to retire. The following summer, she relocated to Columbus, Ohio, to be closer to one of her daughters and young grandchildren. Like all the businesses in the neighborhood, the bookstore took a hit and, while she was lucky enough to avoid going out of business altogether, she could no longer afford to retain a third employee, part-time or otherwise. She'd been lucky enough to find Lizzie, who'd lost her previous job when the cosmetics boutique she worked at went belly-up last fall.
Monique was still processing these changes and now had this new one to contend with. That alone left her feeling queasy. She'd never imagined the possibility of shuttering the bookstore. She'd never imagined raising her debt. Now, she had no other options.
* * *
Matthew, Taylor, and Abigail were surprised to find Jefferson at home when they returned from school.
"Dad?" Taylor asked. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you guys," Jefferson explained. In truth, he'd been feeling as stir-crazy in his office as he'd been at home. With his three classes over, he decided to use the kids to distract himself even though he'd have to return to the law school later to be present for his usual office hours.
He and Anya had made the kids' afternoon snack earlier and he set it out on the table for them, first inspecting it for signs of his and Monique's half-conversation that morning. He knew this was ridiculous, but he was not ready to tell the kids anything yet. He was grateful Anya was not one to pry when his routine changed.
"How was school?" he queried as they all sat down, Presley settling herself on the floor between Abagail and Matthew. The kids long knew better than to give the dog any of their food. As a guide dog, Presley knew better than to beg, but she could still be alert for AFEs ... accidental falling edibles.
"Fine," Taylor and Matthew chorused as they dug into the caramelized carrot and celery sticks their nanny often made.
Abigail was more eager to share, launching into an update about the cartoons she was learning to draw in art class. Jefferson nodded, thinking about how he'd once never considered having any kids. Now, he had trouble with the idea of leaving them behind for what was sure to be a year or more.
He glanced towards where he knew Matthew was sitting. Though he'd adopted the boy the previous year alongside his older sisters, their bond went to a depth no one, including Matthew, his sisters, or Monique, knew of. While the world believed all three kids were left orphaned by the actions of a drunk driver, that was technically not true in Matthew's case.
"Dad," Taylor said.
"Yeah?" Jefferson responded, focusing again.
"Is Monique coming over tonight?"
Jefferson wasn't sure.
"I don't know," he said. "Why?"
"I need help with my book report," Taylor replied.
"We'll see. Otherwise, I can help you."
Jefferson doubted his daughter needed help with a book report. She'd been advanced to the 5th grade in her English class. But she was close with Monique. Jefferson hoped she would nevertheless accept his help. It'd be a nice distraction from the fact he needed to figure out what to do about this new chapter.
* * *
To Jefferson's surprise, Monique did arrive at the brownstone late that afternoon. She sat down with Taylor in the den to help her with the report on "Treasure Island" by Robert Louis Stevenson. It was apparently completed by the time Jefferson returned from the law school for the second time that day.
"How did it go?" he queried, sitting on the couch Taylor had occupied earlier.
"Fine," Monique replied. She had the same suspicions about the child's motives as he did. But, Taylor did the work, so she didn't mind.
"It's funny," she said. "I sometimes still have trouble wrapping my head around when they call you 'Dad'."
Jefferson nodded. After taking in the kids following the car accident, he'd been their guardian until the previous fall. For the longest time, they called him "Uncle Jeff". With their consent, he'd formally adopted all three of them. The title "Dad" came about around the following Christmas. Jefferson, Monique, and Anya shared a joke it was started as a way of sucking up during the holiday season. They all knew the change meant more than that, for them and the kids.
"How was your day?" Monique asked.
"Fine," Jefferson replied. "Busy."
Monique nodded.
"Lots to think about?" she asked, moving her wheelchair closer to the couch.
"Yeah," Jefferson admitted. "I can't get it straight in my head."
Monique reached out and clasped one of Jefferson's hands in hers.
"You said they wouldn't want an answer from you at least until after Election Day, right?" she asked.
"Yeah," Jefferson confirmed, squeezing her hand in return.
"Well, I've come to one conclusion. We're trying to sort out too much too fast. We need time to see if we can even get it all straight."
She certainly couldn't figure out if she could take on a larger parental role while trying to keep her business afloat.
Jefferson looked at her.
"What are you suggesting?" he asked. He certainly hoped she didn't want to take time apart to sort all this out.
"We have to continue with our lives, regardless of what we now have to deal with," Monique said. "How about we each take some time to figure all this out and we talk about it maybe in a few weeks. For now, we continue as we were and just each take time when we have it to think."
Jefferson found this idea appealing. Since the COVID outbreak, they'd spent far too much time apart.
"Matthew's birthday is coming up," he said. "How about we talk after that?"
Monique smiled.
"I like that," she said.
Jefferson also knew she wouldn't disappear on him in the interim. She'd never miss one of the kids birthdays. Still, he'd take a chance.
"You wanna stay here tonight?" he asked.
"I've got a new nurse tonight," Monique said, "but I'm sure she'll come here."
In reality, she'd already made sure of that. She wasn't ready to talk about what she had to deal with, but she still wanted to be close with him.
"How's that going, anyway?" Jefferson asked, squeezing her hand again. He always liked the feel of her. It was somewhat a substitute for his being unable to see her.
Monique took a deep breath.
"It's going okay," she said. It had been a tough year, but she supposed she might soon be able to pare down her nursing staff to one or two people. At least she hoped she could. Something had to go back to normal.
"I love you," Jefferson said.
"I love you, too," Monique returned with another smile.
| Author Notes |
A sequel to "Par Angusta Ad Augusta".
Cast of Characters: Jefferson Thomas: NYU law professor. Uncle/adopted father of Abigail, Taylor, and Matthew. Monique Vasquez: Jefferson's girlfriend. Owns and manages a small bookstore in Greenwich Village in New York City. Abigail Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Taylor. Older sister of Matthew. Taylor Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Abigail. Older sister of Matthew. Matthew Thomas: nephew/adopted son of Jefferson. Younger brother of Taylor and Abigail. Margaret "Maggie" Thomas: Abigail's, Taylor's, and Matthew's biological mother. Died in a car accident in 2019. Stanley "Stan" Thomas: Abigail's, Taylor's, and Matthew's father. Died in a car accident in 2019. Frank Norris: long-time employee at Monique's bookstore. Lizzie Travis: new employee at Monique's bookstore. Anya Motkova: Jefferson's live-in nanny. Eric Nelson: Jefferson's NYU colleague and best friend. Amy Nelson: Eric's wife. Feedback, especially recommendations for additions/subtractions/revisions are always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy! |
By teols2016
Previously in "Dulcius Ex Asperis":
NYU law professor Jefferson Thomas and bookstore owner Monique Vasquez have adjusted well to their new lives and relationship, established in the previous book. Now, now opportunities and challenges present themselves.
October 2 was a Saturday. Any kid was thrilled when their birthday party could occur on the day of the actual occasion. Matthew was no exception.
Monique sat at a table in one of the Party Rooms at Jump-a-thon. The indoor trampoline center was about fifteen minutes from Jefferson's brownstone and on the same block as a bakery, yogurt shop, and pizzeria. Jump-a-thon's requirement that party food be provided by the families was easy to meet.
About twenty kids were running in and out of the room. For Monique, seeing them all wearing masks was depressing. Sure, she understood the health risks and required the same at her store. One reason she and Jefferson selected Jump-a-thon was their vaccine mandate for employees and their mask requirement for visitors. The Party Room was also big enough for kids to social-distance when they came in to eat later.
Jump-a-thon also had one or two employees who dressed up as clowns. With their masks on, Monique thought the clowns looked even creepier. And now, one was approaching her.
"Well, hey there," he said, beeping the bicycle horn he was holding in one hand. "How are you this wonderful day?"
"I'm fine," Monique replied.
"Which one's yours?"
"The seven-year-old."
Monique had no interest in conversing with this or any other clown.
The clown was about to say something else when he spotted a boy and a girl entering the Party Room. He headed in their direction as Amy Nelson came over and sat at Monique's table.
"You okay?" she asked.
"I don't like clowns," Monique replied.
The redheaded Amy nodded and adjusted her own mask.
"You didn't have to help," Monique pointed out. Amy's sons were well over Matthew's age and weren't even at the party. Yet she and Eric were present.
"I wanted to," Amy insisted. "It's not like we could have left it up to Jefferson and Eric."
Monique shook her head, laughing. She understood Eric's and Amy's devotion to the twins and Matthew. Eric had helped Jefferson with the paperwork to become their guardian and later their adopted father. Amy had helped orient him through the beginnings of parenthood. To the kids, they were "Aunt Amy" and "Uncle Eric".
"I suppose congratulations are in order," Monique said. In the fourth month of her pregnancy, Amy's baby bump was hard to miss.
"Thank you," Amy said.
"You doing okay?
Amy took a deep breath.
"It's nerve-wrecking for sure," she admitted.
"Anything I can do to help?" Monique asked. "Anything I should tell Jefferson to do to help you?"
Amy laughed and then turned her head towards the room's large windows.
"Looks like the pizza's here," she reported, seeing the delivery guy entering the lobby. "I'll go find Eric so he can help me get it in here. He's probably on one of the trampolines."
Monique couldn't help but chuckle. The scenario was perfectly believable and she could picture it.
"dulcius ex asperis," Amy added as she rose to her feet.
Monique stared at her.
"I studied French in high school and college," she said, "not Latin."
Amy had minored in Latin at Columbia University and liked to pepper her conversations with it. Monique had yet to figure out why she'd want to study a dead language, let alone have it qualify for the Columbia University ciriculmn's foreign language requirement.
"It means 'sweeter after difficulties'," Amy explained. "Yeah, it'll be tough, but things will turn out all right."
Monique nodded, hoping that sentiment could apply to multiple situations. Thanks in large part to the pandemic, the two women had yet to accomplish regular socialization. But, Amy had known Jefferson as well as Eric for about two decades, at least since they were all at Columbia. That had to count.
As Amy headed out to the lobby, Matthew entered the Party Room.
"Hey," Monique said. "Are you having fun?"
"Yeah," Matthew replied.
Monique supposed he was smiling by the way his cheeks bunched up behind his mask. She sighed. Sure, she saw him smile at home, but that wasn't enough.
"Are you okay?" Matthew queried.
"Yeah," Monique replied, "I'm fine."
"You don't look okay."
Monique had to smile at his perceptiveness. She'd been in the bathroom earlier and, while alone, pulled down her mask. A pale version of herself stared back in the mirror. The physical and mental exertions were taking their toll.
"I'm okay," Monique said. "This is your birthday and we are all here for you. Is your Dad out there?"
"Yes," Matthew replied.
"Go tell him the pizza's here," Monique said, seeing Amy and Eric talking with the delivery guy in the lobby. No, it wasn't a guy. It was a girl, probably college-aged with short, cinnamon-colored hair. Monique wasn't sure why this was important.
Matthew left the Party Room and Jefferson entered a couple minutes later.
"They've got staff rounding up the kids," he said as Presley guided him towards Monique. "For some reason, they don't think it's safe for me to walk through the play area."
Monique chuckled. She and Jefferson had been told the floor out there was literally part-trampoline. While eyeing Monique's wheelchair, the manager had expressed sure certainty she'd go right through any of them.
Jefferson slid into the bench next to Monique.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
"I'll make it," Monique promised. She wasn't sure if that was meant for him or herself.
"What's going on with you anyway?"" Jefferson pressed. "Something's definitely been on your mind."
Monique sighed. One could only hide their feelings of stress and anxiety for just so long.
"I'm thinking about the store," Monique explained. She knew Jefferson wasn't stupid. He knew she'd been struggling.
"Anything I can do?" Jefferson offered.
Monique knew he'd write a check for a few tens of thousands of dollars. She could never let him do that. Mallard's Book Corner had been in her family for generations and generations before her had always managed to keep it viable. Maintaining it had to fall on her shoulders alone.
"It'll be okay," she said. "Things are opening up, so there's hope."
Jefferson nodded. Monique wasn't sure if he'd been convinced.
Eric and Amy then entered with the pizzas.
"I better go lend a hand," Jefferson said and rose. "Come on."
Presley, who'd settled herself on the floor beneath the table with her chin on Monique's foot, didn't move.
"Come on," Jefferson insisted. "Let's go."
He added a short whistle. This time, the message seemed to have gotten through. Presley rose, shook, and moved to stand next to him. She then opened her mouth in a long, audible yawn.
* * *
Elaine Williams was on duty that evening. Monique would only have ever had discussed her store's struggles with one nurse. But Joan Anderson was no longer around, so she stayed quiet.
But, like Jefferson, the younger nurse noticed things.
"I just ate something that didn't agree with me," Monique explained when pressed.
"How are you feeling," Elaine inquired. She was on guard for further signs of illness.
"I'm okay," Monique replied. She'd had soup for dinner and her stomach felt fine at the moment.
Jefferson was already lying on the bed when Elaine helped Monique into it. He was watching the news on his iPhone. Monique glanced over as Elaine slipped out. It seemed a convicted serial rapist in California was exonerated by new DNA evidence after spending twelve years in prison.
"That's good," Monique remarked as the story moved on to an Illinois businessman who'd become a recluse in recent months.
"Harper Wexler turned a twenty-thousand-dollar loan into a billion-dollar defense contracting firm," the reporter was saying. "However, tragedy struck the family earlier this year when his fourteen-year-old son, Kelsey, was killed during an armed robbery ..."
"And there's the bad news," Monique said. One could always count on that.
"Yeah," Jefferson agreed, ending the livestream and setting his phone on the nightstand.
"What did you think of the party?" Monique said, in part hoping to distract him from inquiring about her again.
"I think it went well. Matthew seemed happy."
"He was."
Each now knew the other was thinking the same thing. They'd made an agreement.
"So," Monique ventured, "do we talk about it now or when?"
Jefferson sighed.
"Now is good, I suppose," he replied, not sure if he was ready. "Where do you want to start?"
Monique reached out and placed her hand on his chest.
"I think we should do it," she said. "All of it."
"You serious?" Jefferson asked, looking at her.
"Yeah."
Propping himself on his side, Jefferson stared at her.
"You're sure?" he asked
"Yeah," Monique repeated. "If you want to run for Congress, I'll be there for you. I'll be there for you through Election Day and beyond. We'll just need to make a plan."
Jefferson couldn't believe this. She made it sound so easy.
"Do you want to run?" Monique asked.
"I guess," Jefferson replied. "I mean, I want to change things. We all see the news and the mess we have for representation. I couldn't tell you what inicitive Adam Murphy ever took."
"I think you can make a difference. That's why you want to run."
Jefferson chuckled.
"You have such faith in my abilities, huh?" he asked.
"I do," Monique said, her tone opposing his a hundred percent.
Smiling, she rubbed his arm.
"You're strong, confident, and handsome," she said. "They'll love you and they'll listen to you."
She leaned as far forward as she could and, tugging him closer, kissed him. Jefferson kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her torso. After a few seconds, he moved one hand up to the neckline of her shirt. He tugged at it and Monique let him pull off the garment.
She reached between the cups of her bra and undid the clasp. As the cups fell away from her chest, she took Jefferson's hand and guided it towards her breast.
"You still have condoms, right?" she asked and kissed Jefferson again. Eric and Amy flashed through her mind at that moment and she knew she could not handle a baby of her own at this juncture.
* * *
Sex could only be a distraction for a little while.
The next morning, Monique was back in her office, reviewing the dreaded envelope's contents. Each document was emblazoned with the logo of the U.S. Small Business Administration and the words "Office of Disaster Assistance". Below ththis banner headline, "COVID Disaster Loan".
Monique had taken out bank loans before to make changes to the store. But this felt different. This was a loan from the federal government, designed for businesses like hers which would otherwise close once and for all under current circumstances. Sure, business had sagged before, but Monique and her team were always able to prevent a total crash. Now, she had no choice but to ask for help or give up. She'd never done either before and the choice hadn't been easy.
The first packet in the envelope was a copy of the initial loan application she'd filled out back in January, when the store's funds were almost depleted and she'd lost track of how many bills she was behind on paying. Despite her efforts, COVID restrictions prevented the required amount of foot traffic from coming. She needed money to stay open until things could get better. She couldn't even consider what she'd do otherwise, let alone where she'd live.
Monique read the application, recalling how she'd filled in every response. She was taking out a $400,000 loan to keep paying her bills, cover Frank's and Lizzie's salaries, and order inventory as needed. She was set up to repay the loan over the next thirty years with an interest rate of 1.3%. That was almost unheard of for a loan of this size in the private sector, but Monique's desperation overshadowed such favorable terms.
Flipping to the final page of the application packet, she saw where she needed to sign her name, affirming everything she'd submitted so long ago was correct. Setting this aside, she moved to the next item, a form for putting an SBA lean on her store/home as required by law.
| Author Notes |
A sequel to "Par Angusta Ad Augusta".
Cast of Characters: Jefferson Thomas: NYU law professor. Uncle/adopted father of Abigail, Taylor, and Matthew. Monique Vasquez: Jefferson's girlfriend. Owns and manages a small bookstore in Greenwich Village in New York City. Abigail Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Taylor. Older sister of Matthew. Taylor Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Abigail. Older sister of Matthew. Matthew Thomas: nephew/adopted son of Jefferson. Younger brother of Taylor and Abigail. Anya Motkova: Jefferson's live-in nanny. Eric Nelson: Jefferson's NYU colleague and best friend. Amy Nelson: Eric's wife. Feedback, especially recommendations for additions/subtractions/revisions are always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy! |
By teols2016
Previously in "Dulcius Ex Asperis":
NYU law professor Jefferson Thomas and bookstore owner Monique Vasquez have adjusted well to their new lives and relationship, established in the previous book. Now, now opportunities and challenges present themselves.
On a cool Sunday morning, Jefferson and Monique sat Anya down in the den to explain Jefferson's plan to run for office. The kids were upstairs, engrossed in their own activities and unlikely to interrupt the conversation.
As usual, Anya proved she wasn't stupid. She'd taken U.S. history and government courses as part of her collegete core curriculum. Jefferson considered she, a Russian immigrant turned citizen, might know more than some of the people currently in government.
"Depending on how the primary goes, any Democratic candidate is likely to hold onto the seat," he finished.
Anya's brows were furrowed as she absorbed all this.
"Obviously," Jefferson said, "I'd like it if you stuck around. Your responsibilities would remain largely the same. I wouldn't ask you to take on a parental role."
Anya nodded slowly and then seemed to remember her employer was blind.
"What about how it looks?" she asked.
Jefferson was confused. Sure, people had questioned the true nature of his relationship with the young, blonde, athletic bombshell wite illustrious accent. But, those who he trusted to know his real life understood the situation and Eric was the only one who sometimes threw out a teasing remark about it. Monique, once in the dark, knew better than to feel any jealousy. He and Anya slept a walking distance of two hundred feet and two stories apart. Her room came with its own bathroom, complete with shower. She rarely ventured up to the third floor as this was just his bedroom and home office. It was about as un-cohabiting as they could achieve while staying under the same roof.
"We've dealt with that before," Jefferson pointed out.
Anya shook her head.
"No," she said. "About the fact I am Russian? You can't pretend it would not be an issue."
"Uh,huh," Monique murmured in agreement. She hadn't known how to bring it up. Like Jefferson, she had no problem with Anya nor where the woman came from, but one couldn't miss the news. Nor could one miss Anya's regular attempts to avoid seeing such stories, leaving the room or changing channels. She seemed to avoid looking at news content on her iPad.
Jefferson took a deep breath.
"I might have to talk to some people about that," he admitted. "But, I won't let it bother you. You might have to undergo a background check at some point."
His intent was to not let it go any further than that. A background check seemed fair. Monique might have to undergo one too if she stayed at the house more. Anya was used to such checks. She'd had half a dozen employers before coming to Jefferson. All of them surely checked her out like he had. Plus, she was investigated when she applied for U.S. Citizenship.
"Your uncle's not a spy, is he?" Jefferson asked.
Anya laughed.
"No," she replied. "My one uncle works as a lawyer. The other owns an apartment building."
"Then we're fine," Jefferson said. He just had to explain all this to the kids at some point.
* * *
Sitting in his office at the NYU law school, Jefferson thought his world made sense right then. He also thought it was ironic that he felt this way after what he'd been through in the last two-and-a-half years. It had to have been easier than what he was planning to do next.
Despite it not being Halloween yet, he'd sent an e-mail to Tobias Sterns that morning, declaring his intention to run. Since then, he wondered if he ought to tell Adam Murphy. He had yet to figure out how he should phrase the explanation that he was running for the man's seat.
Perhaps the more pressing matter was he needed to sit Abigail, Matthew, and Taylor down and explain to them what was happening. Relocating them to the Washington area made no sense since he would need to maintain a presence in New York anyway. It'd be easier on them to stay in the same home and keep attending the same school. That didn't even consider the kids' unique history.
Jefferson and Monique had discussed this a little, working to figure out what their new dynamic would be and how they'd explain it to the kids. Jefferson could tell Monique was still holding something back. He'd have to continue to prod. He needed to know she could take on all these changes.
A calendar alert popped up and the screenreading software, JAWS, on Jefferson's computer immediately began reciting it. His student appointment was due to start in five minutes. After over a year of virtual learning, which made Jefferson feel detached and miserable at best, NYU began in-person classes again this semester. COVID proticalls were strictly adhered to and masks were required throughout the buildings, including for classes and one-on-one meetings between students and faculty. Jefferson opened the top drawer of his desk and set a fresh mask next to his keyboard.
Less than two minutes later, Jefferson heard a knock on his office door.
"Come in," Jefferson said and pulled on his mask.
The door opened and he could hear muffled footsteps crossing the threshold into his carpeted office.
"Good afternoon, Professor Thomas," a male voice said. "It's Sarah Hennis with Lewis Dodson."
"Have a seat," Jefferson invited. "Please shut the door."
Though in-person meetings between students and faculty were required to be literal one-on-one meetings, Sarah Hennis had fought with the administration for an exception due to her being Deaf. While Jefferson wasn't involvement in these discussions, he knew his name and visual impairment was drawn into the conflict after the student learned she was to take his Constittuional Law class. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
Sarah Hennis and Lewis Dodson sat across from him. Jefferson knew they were now all arranged in a triangle to remain as distanced from one another as the small office allowed.
"What's on your mind?" Jefferson queiried. After all, Sarah Hennis had requested this meeting. He waited as she signed to her intrepretor.
"Griswold v. Connecticut," Lewis Dodson relayed. "I'm not sure how far the issue of privacy extends from this to other cases."
Decided by the Supreme Court in 1965, Griswold v. Connecticut had been cited in almost every subsequent case which seemed to appear to broach the issue of privacy.
"What did the majority write in their opinion?" Jefferson pressed. He wasn't going to just give away any answers.
There was a pause, where he anticipated his pupil was thinking and signing.
"The Court held that the U.S. Constitution protects 'marital privacy' as a fundamental constitutional right," Lewis Dodson Office of the City Register. .
Jefferson nodded.
"And from where in the Constitution did the justices draw that right?" he asked.
Another pause. While never opposing her presence in his class, Jefferson had needed to adjust to the time it took for Sarah Hennis to sign her statements. Thankfully, his only embarrassing gaffe, wherein he'd questioned whether she intended to respond, came during a one-on-one conversation. She seemed to understand he couldn't see what she was doing and he became more patient over the course of a few weeks.
"The justices couldn't quite agree from where in the Constitution the right to privacy came from," Lewis Dodson Office of the City Register. . "All they could agree on is that it was in there somewhere."
Sarah Hennis emitted a sharp chuckle. Jefferson had never heard it before, but he didn't mind how shrill it sounded. To anyone who didn't understand that sound was not a normal venue for this woman, they would find this blare unnatural.
Despite the witty remark, Jefferson still needed an actual answer.
"So," he said, "where did ..."
"Hang on," Lewis Dodson said. "She's signing."
The interpreter too had needed time to adjust to being in the middle of this interaction between blind and Deaf. He had to have adjusted fine if he felt comfortable to interrupt a professor.
Jefferson waited. He wondered how often the interpreter needed to tell his client about things she wasn't otherwise aware of. Things had to be tough these days given they all needed to wear masks.
"The Justices never settled on a specific part of the Constitution to identify the right to marital privacy," Lewis Dodson interpreted. "Instead, they concluded it was implied in the Bill of Rights."
"Was that their only reasoning?" Jefferson pressed.
Silence followed. Jefferson waited, but no one spoke.
"Well," he prompted, feeling he'd waited long enough.
"She's not signing," Lewis Dodson replied, his tone more tentative now.
Jefferson knew how to get the discussion going again. Sarah Hennis was just another student.
"What does any judge in any court anywhere always have to consider in any of their decisions?" he asked. "What do you always have to use in any legal argument?"
If she didn't get this quickly, he wouldn't remain patient.
"Presidence," Lewis Dodson interpreted. "Stare decisis."
She was smart.
"And," Jefferson prompted, sure she was starting to make a connection.
"She's signing again," Lewis Dodson described. "It's frenzied. She's excited."
Jefferson nodded again and waited.
"The Justices pointed out previous cases where the Court recognized a person's right to privacy when such a right wasn't specifically spelled out in the Constitution," Lewis Dodson soon transliterated. "Like ... child rearing."
Jefferson heard an sharp intake of breath. He was sure he knew what that meant and didn't speak.
"That's what Justices did in later cases," Lewis Dodson interpreted. "They cited Griswold to identify other rights not spelled out in the Constitution. Pretty much anything tied to privacy."
"Like abortion and same-sex marriage," Jefferson said. There were plenty more examples available.
Once again, an student got to the answer on their own efforts. It was a little funny how an eager law student sometimes overlooked the central concept of Stare Decisis. They all needed to learn to settle down and think things through.
"You understand how that happened?" he asked.
There was only a brief pause this time.
"Yes," Lewis Dodson relayed. "Thank you, Professor."
Jefferson nodded as she and the interpreter gathered their things and exited his office. This was something he'd miss if he left this job.
* * *
Despite saying nothing to the kids yet, Jefferson and Monique resolved for her to start taking a bigger role in their lives. They decided Halloween would offer an good opportunity for a first step.
The Big Apple had offered unique trick-or-treating opportunities for decades. As a child, Monique had hit up the local business around Mallard's Book Corner, many owners coming outside to offer her candy on the sidewalks when it wasn't feasible for her to enter in her wheelchair. For every year for as long as she could remember, she'd had candy ready at the bookstore, handing it out like the dry cleaner's and boutique law firm on either side of her. This year, Lizzie was in charge of the sweets' distribution as Frank was helping with an event at the one of the schools he worked at.
Jefferson's neighborhood offered a more traditional experience, or at least more like what was shown in popular culture. Having skipped the routine in 2020, everyone anticipated things being somewhat more normal this year.
2019 had been Jefferson's first Halloween with the twins and Matthew. While Monique had seen the girls dressed as Elsa and a witch while Matthew dressed up as Spider-Man, she'd been at the store during the actual trick-or-treating and they hadn't stopped by. That had been fine with her and Jefferson, their relationship not even six months old then, but things had to be different now.
She'd gone with the group to buy their costumes, Jefferson refusing to relegate this to online shopping. After almost two exhausting hours, Matthew was a astronaught, Abigail elected to be a pirate, and Taylor chose to be a doctor. Jefferson got a set of plastic vampire teeth and a long, black cape for himself while Monique bought a robe and wand to go as Harry Potter's Hermione Granger. Anya was dressing up as a pumpkin for a party she was attending with her girlfriend and even Presley was included, receiving a pair of cat ears she detested from the very first moment.
Watching Jefferson's kids, as well as other children, weave their way from house to house, Monique was saddened to see so many still wearing masks. Sure, she too wore a mask since they passed so many people on the streets and sidewalks, but it put a damper on Halloween. Hermione Granger never wore a mask.
Monique and Jefferson stayed behind as the kids navigated stoops or short walkways to collect treats from decorated homes. Many residents were opening their doors to interact with the visitors, but plenty had just put out bowls with signs to commerate the occasion. Monique took it upon herself to read the signs and ensure the kids stuck to any given directions.
"Just two pieces each, guys," she said as Abigail led the rooting through a large, purple plastic bowl which seemed to be filled with Tootsie Rolls and Hershey bars.
"What about me?" Jefferson queried, having heard about the Hershey Bars. Hershey, Pennsylvania, had been a favorite vacation destination for his family when he was a kid.
Monique reached out and took one of his hands in hers. He squeezed it in return as the kids turned to rejoin them. She noticed the tips of his white, plastic vampire fangs poking out between his lips. She made a mental note to remind him to take those out when they got home. He'd already tried to nibble her neck earlier. It wasn't arousing.
"Oh," she said, feeling Presley's tail brushing against her leg. "She's wrestling off the cat ears again."
This was Presley's fifth attempt since they'd left the house. Jefferson was sure to pluck them from the dog's grip, whether that be teeth or paws, and would stick them right back on her head.
| Author Notes |
A sequel to "Par Angusta Ad Augusta".
Cast of Characters: Jefferson Thomas: NYU law professor. Uncle/adopted father of Abigail, Taylor, and Matthew. Monique Vasquez: Jefferson's girlfriend. Owns and manages a small bookstore in Greenwich Village in New York City. Abigail Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Taylor. Older sister of Matthew. Taylor Thomas: niece/adopted daughter of Jefferson. Twin sister of Abigail. Older sister of Matthew. Matthew Thomas: nephew/adopted son of Jefferson. Younger brother of Taylor and Abigail. Anya Motkova: Jefferson's live-in nanny. Feedback, especially recommendations for additions/subtractions/revisions are always welcome and appreciated. Enjoy! |
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