Free Monkey in the Middle by Stephen Solomita

a History Channel documentary about the potential for catastrophic tsunamis on the east coast of the United States. The baby is wide awake and restless; his kicks and thrusts make little eruptions on Sofia’s abdomen, leading them to exchange the usual joke about Jonathon being a space alien about to claw his way out of the womb. Then Epstein sits alongside his wife and takes her into his arms.
    They remain that way for some time, listening to each other breathe, watching giant waves rip through Manhattan’s skyline. In fact, as Epstein knows, to reach Manhattan, the tsunami would have to pass over Brooklyn. But Epstein isn’t bothered by predictions of doom. He’s a relentlessly optimistic man, undaunted by the cop experience, a man not given to questioning his choices, especially his choice of the woman sitting next to him. He’s only sure that he has to have her.
    â€˜How come,’ Sofia asks, ‘you always know what I need?’
    Epstein thinks for a minute before saying, ‘You’ve got to think that way, think about what people need. You have to take care of the people you care for.’
    â€˜Is that the way you’re gonna think about our son?’
    â€˜Yeah, what he needs, not necessarily what he wants.’ Epstein leans over to plant a kiss on Sofia’s left cheek. ‘But what I really think is there’s no right way to raise a kid. There’s better ways and worse ways, but it’s mostly a crapshoot.’
    Sofia considers this for a moment, then says, ‘If I don’t have the baby first, I want you to take me to midnight mass on Christmas Eve. I don’t give a damn if you have to take me in a wheelchair. I want to go.’
    â€˜To St Patrick’s Cathedral?’ Epstein asks. ‘In Manhattan?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    Epstein’s first impulse is to reject Sofia’s request out of hand. The logistics, the crowds, the possibility that she’ll go into labor during the Offertory? Fuck it. But Epstein ignores this impulse. To his thinking, problems are to be solved, not dismissed. Sofia is a religious, not to mention superstitious, woman. He knew that when he married her.
    First thing, he’ll have to park in a bus stop, there being no other possibility on that section of Fifth Avenue. That means using his ‘ON OFFICAL POLICE BUSINESS’ placard, a technical violation but one likely to go unpunished on Christmas Eve. And there’s his aunt Marie, who was confined to a wheelchair before her death. Most likely her son, Andy, has the wheelchair stored in his garage. Andy’s a pack rat. He has trouble throwing out coffee grinds. And as for Sofia going into labor? While still a rookie patrol officer, Epstein delivered twins girls in a Lower East Side tenement. If necessary, he’ll deliver Jonathon himself.
    â€˜Consider it done,’ he tells his wife.
    Billy Boyle picks Epstein up an hour later and they drive to a strip mall on Route 4 in New Jersey. The wrong strip mall, as it turns out. There’s no Italian restaurant among its dozen businesses. Epstein tells Billy Boyle to drive on, try the next one. Instead, Boyle uses his cell phone to call information. He asks for the phone number of Villa Napoli in Teaneck, then calls the restaurant for directions. Epstein’s annoyed, but says nothing. Much more than rabbi and underling, he and Billy Boyle are in it for the long run. Epstein has already taken the captain’s exam and he’s certain he aced the test. Just as he’s certain that when he moves up, Billy Boyle will come along. Even if Epstein has to call in every favor he’s ever granted.
    Ten minutes later, they walk into Villa Napoli to find Dave Flannery already eating. Flannery is hugely overweight and he sits with his chair pulled away from the table to leave room for his gut. Epstein looks over at Billy Boyle’s lumpy face. The man’s slash of a mouth is pulled into a predictable