Chapter Text
When Sonny Carisi moved into his apartment seven years ago, he could barely afford this comfortable one bedroom. It was just right for a cop living alone, working long hours. The building was small – only six apartments in all. The neighborhood is quiet, residential and tree-lined, close to a supermarket and the subway. He had a little help from his parents at first, and worked hard to repay them whatever was loaned, though they insisted it was a gift for his promotion to detective and finding a home at the one-six. He was kind to his elderly neighbors across the hall, Mr. and Mrs. Gold, when they needed groceries, help rearranging furniture or reaching something up in a high cabinet or closet. He would offer to walk their dog, Goldie whenever he could, exchanged recipes and meals with Mrs. Gold, and grumbled over Islanders losses with Mr. Gold. When the Mrs. passed away, and Mr. Gold and Goldie went to live in Vermont with their son, Sonny never got to know the new neighbors for more than a nod and smile in passing. By then, Jesse was an infant and Sonny had somewhere else to spend a couple of evenings a week now.
He tapes up box after box, labeling them “SI” for storage in his parents’ garage, “trash” for curbside pickup, “D” for donation to a thrift store or “home” for its place in his new life with Amanda and the girls. They had done a walk through, he and Amanda, considering which of Sonny’s pieces would replace her well used things. The living room is an easy decision. Where Amanda’s used couch and coffee table are sagging and scratched from living several lives, Sonny’s still look close to showroom new. Along with the throw rug, side table, chair and ottoman, two lamps and a bookcase, this living room furniture is getting a shot at family life, too, just like him. A set of dishes and bowls, his KitchenAid stand mixer which he got for half the price because of its tangerine color, and his dining room set are also moving with Sonny to the Rollins apartment, to join the rest of the cookware and bakeware he’d moved there over the years.
Sonny is pleased with his progress mid-afternoon. He hates having to spend a weekend away from his girls, but he’s really getting things done. Handing over his keys to the building manager one week from today is the goal. It will mean his life is officially entwined with Amanda’s for better or worse, just how he’s always wanted it. Sonny is driven by his excitement, leaving behind the loneliness this place signifies, and becoming a legitimate, bona fide, lawful resident of the one place that has felt more like home than any place he’s ever lived. He grabs his phone off the counter, a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and sits on the couch to call Amanda.
“Hey, babe! How’s it going?”
“I’m chuggin’ along. Livin’ room and kitchen are done. That’s a huge chunk.”
“Wow! Good for you! I can still call Sienna or Liv to watch the girls for a little bit if you want some help.”
“Nah. I got this. I can move faster on my own, ya know? But, if you can, please confirm the movers for next Friday.”
“I’ll call as soon as we hang up.”
“I miss ya, and the kids. It’s weird not bein’ there on a day off.”
“It is. I miss you too. What time are you coming back?”
“Is it ok if I don’t know? I kinda just wanna push through until I hit a wall.”
“Yeah, sure it is. Just promise you’ll come home, ok? Don’t spend the night there. I’ll massage your achy muscles and keep you warm tonight. It’s supposed to get really cold.”
He can hear the smile in her voice, and it warms him in ways he cannot put in words.
“Deal. Lemme get goin’ before I lose steam,” he chuckles.
“Ok. I love you.”
“I love ya, too, Amanda Rollins. I can’t wait to hand over these keys.”
“I’ll see you later, babe.”
Sonny doesn’t immediately get up. He takes a moment to look around at this space from where he sits. How many nights did he spend out here on this couch, or that chair, drinking to numb the empty feeling in his chest, refusing to go to bed alone again. This couch definitely beats Amanda’s couch in comfort, but he’d chosen her worn lumpy sofa time and time again when it meant being close to her and those babies. And oh, those babies! He looks at the pile of frames awaiting bubble wrap on the coffee table depicting some of the best days of his life over the past years with Jesse and Billie and their mother. These pictures are their only presence here, flat and two dimensional. All of these photos are very poor substitutes for the giggles and shrieks, the hugs and kisses, the questions and stories, the spills and tears. They sustained him, gave him hope. The memories of the moments in these pictures filled the silence here with all the love and life there.
He stands and moves to the kitchen. Miss Raw Food and that firecracker of an activist, he tried entertaining them here. Dinner, cooked in the wrong pots and pans because what he really needed was in another apartment, was adequate at best the few times he tried. Attempts made at romantic meals eaten across from beautiful eyes that just weren’t blue fell short. Laughter that was too delicate or polite was cacophonous to his ears when his brain expected to hear the deep joyful unabashed sounds of Amanda Rollins that soothed whatever hurt his soul. Crayon-drawn artwork of stick figures with hearts and stars on the refrigerator once brought a comment of distain and questioning as to why a young, attractive, single man had other people’s babies gracing his walls and shelves. It made him resent the asker and left him unable to explain the unspoken bonds that made up the better parts of his life. He did try to make a life here, in this tidy handsomely decorated place, but each attempt made Sonny feel dishonest. He is ready to leave it behind.
Sonny saved the bedroom for last. On the surface, it seems there’s the least to pack up here, but he feels uneasy and heavy in this room now. Maybe he always had. He opens dresser drawers, and the closet door flipping on the light in there. He moves through, making quick decisions. His “cop” clothes - inexpensive suits, colored button downs and matching ties – are packed into boxes marked for donation. Summer clothes are folded into a couple of suitcases destined for storage in Staten Island until the weather warms up. On and on it goes until everything has a new designation.
Sonny wipes down the dressers and end tables with Pledge. The bedroom furniture will also replace the mismatched things in Amanda’s bedroom. After Sonny and Amanda had made love that first time in her apartment, she made a point of telling him that no one had ever been there in that bed with her but Jesse, Billie and Frannie, and Sonny on the occasions he stayed to comfort or care for her. Sonny thought it was strange she’d bring that up, not realizing how much he appreciated the significance after it was said, and even more the one time he and Amanda fell onto this mattress half-dressed and tugging at whatever clothes remained. He remembers the conversation had here in this bed once they were sated and wrapped in each other.
“I used to think you had a secret family,” Amanda giggled.
“What? What are talkin’ about?”
“I’ve only been here like three, maybe four, times and not anytime recently. I used to imagine you had someone squirrelled away in here.”
Sonny chuckles and shakes his head at the memory. Amanda can always captivate and disarm him with the strangest comments.
“You’re insane, ya know that, right?”
“Would it have been that crazy? We’ve both seen people do worse things,” she shrugs.
“Amanda, please tell me your kiddin’. I’m not a squirrel-away-women kind of guy.”
“Well actually… you sort of actually were, right? I mean... I don’t know…I guess I tried picturing you here with…her. When you were dating…but no one would TELL me. I’d picture you, you know, cooking or just watching tv, or…in here…”
“Stop. Don’t. Listen to what I am gonna say and neva, eva doubt or ova-think or worry, ok?”
“Ok.”
“I’ve lived here for seven years and the only person who has eva made it into this bed with me is you. Ya understand me? Just you.”
“Is that even possible, Sonny?”
“Yeah. Possible because its’ the truth. No one until you were here with me afta Cole. I was shakin’ so bad, and ya washed my face and my hair, and got me into this bed. Ya climbed right in behind me without askin’ and spooned me all night through a couple of nightmares and a bitch of an anxiety attack.”
“I did. I remember it too clearly,” she said pulling him closer.
“Afta that, afta all our ups and downs, our late night talks on the phone or FaceTime or texts, it felt… disrespectful to what you mean to me… to entertain here.”
“Ever, Sonny? Really?”
“Really. I mean, you were always here with me in way. Those nights, havin’ conversations, I’d come in here and get comfortable. Sometimes more comfortable than otha times, ya know? It made being in this bed, in this space, less lonely.”
“Oh, Dominick. I wish…”
Sonny remembers cutting off that thought with a kiss, and they’d never discussed it again. He has no reservations about beginning this new chapter of their life together, sharing space together, in this bed that has only ever held Amanda. This bed, that will become the center of their family life together, will hold all of them including Frannie.
Yes, Sonny Carisi is finished with this place, this place-holder. He is ready to embrace the chaos, terror and joyful calamity of being a family, a husband, a father as much as he is ready for all the love and laughter and dreams come true. He thinks on the man he was when he first entered this apartment and who he is as he exits. It’s easy to walk away from the things not meant for you, he thinks. After carrying boxes and bags to the designated piles in the living room, Sonny picks up his phone and taps Amanda’s name.
“Hey.”
“Hey. I’m heading home. Should I pick up dinner on the way?”