Bullseye (Michael Bennett 9)

“Maybe,” Sophie said, smiling. “But tell me again anyway.”

Before he could say a word, Sophie’s phone buzzed again.

“Hold that thought,” she said. “I’m getting a call. It’s a FaceTime. It’s Victoria.”

Matthew, drunk on vodka and victory, felt a skyrocket explode in his heart when he looked over his wife’s shoulder and saw his daughter’s baby-bunny-rabbit-cute face suddenly appear on the screen.

It was for her. All of it. She would have the best of everything, always. The best for the best.

He knew that he and Sophie had in many ways failed. What kind of parents would do what they did? They’d participated in such…utter darkness. But in his heart, he knew that Victoria made it worth it. She was the sunlight that made it all worth it. Her angel’s face burned away their sins with every smile.

“Mommy, Daddy! Did you sell them? Did you sell Aunt Soyi’s pretty pictures?”

“Yes, we did, Victoria. Every one,” Sophie said.

“Hooray!” Victoria said. “So are we going to Grandpapa’s? Will we swim, Mother? All of us? Will we swim in the ocean like last time, with the glasses? Will we look for Nemo and Dory?”

“Soon, baby, soon,” said Sophie.

“Can I have a pretty new swimsnoot? Pleease?”

“Of course,” said Matthew, smiling at his daughter’s face. “Heck, make it two!”

“Hooray!” said Victoria again.

Hooray indeed, thought Matthew as he finally got the champagne foil off and popped the cork.

Part Two

All in the Family

Chapter 17

“Dad, don’t do it. It’s not worth it,” Ricky said. “Please, Dad.”

“He’s right, Dad. We need you,” said Eddie, pretending to cry. “What will we do without you?”

“If this is good-bye, Dad,” said Trent, giving me a quick hug, “I just want you to know it’s been nice knowing you.”

“Exactly, and make sure you have your insurance card in your wallet,” said Jane.

“Ha-ha. Tee-hee. Very funny, you wisenheimers,” I said as we all did a Bennett family fire drill around the van out in front of Holy Name school the next morning.

All the younger kids were disembarking from the van for school, but Brian was switching to the driver’s seat. His road test was coming up, so for practice, I’d been letting him drive to his high school, Fordham Prep, in the Bronx.

The other kids, of course, were really helping out as usual by sharing their confidence in his driving skills.

“Don’t listen to them, Brian,” I said when we were finally alone in the van. “You can do this. Now, check your mirrors, okay? Don’t forget to look over your shoulder. Good. Nice and easy now, son.”

The van roared as Brian gunned it out onto 96th Street.

“Brian, no! That’s too much!” I screamed.

There was a violent screech as he slammed on the brakes. A box truck’s horn blew in my ear as it whipped around us close enough to almost shave off the side view mirror. More horns sounded over the pounding of my heart. Brian’s face was as white as a sheet. Mine was, too, as I swiped away the beads of sweat that were already gathering on my forehead.

Driver’s ed NYC-style was definitely not for the faint of heart.

“Don’t worry. Happens to everyone. You can do this, son,” I said.