CHAPTER 1

Andrew Sullivan walked briskly down the street, deftly avoiding the thousands of other New Yorkers who shoved and jostled their ways to the subways and bus stops, hurrying to get home. Sunlight faded as the sun dipped down behind the buildings. The sound of the street traffic was a mild roar in the back of his mind as he tried to decide what he was going to do next with his life.

He felt empty inside. After twenty years of raising his brothers and sisters and making his millions, he had no more goals, no more reason to push himself to ensure there was enough money to pay for the next college education. His youngest sibling, Patrick, had just graduated magna cum laude from Columbia and gone off to make a life for himself as a marketing assistant with an advertising firm.

No one needed him anymore. What was Andrew supposed to do with his life now? He didn't need money. He had more than enough for ten lifetimes. He didn't need to be a father anymore. His brothers and sisters were grown, some with families of their own, and others starting on their own life paths. He had no more loose ends to tie.

He felt a curious flatness inside. What did a person do with his life once his goals were met?

He unknotted his red-and-black power tie. He wouldn't need it anymore, not it or the army of suits that resided in his closet. Yesterday, he'd sold his stock brokerage firm and would never again have to look as though he were going to a funeral. Neither would he have to worry about going to the office, nor about other people's money. Maybe he should marry, as his sister Colleen urged, and have lots of little Sullivan babies.

My God, what am I thinking? He'd just divested himself of the last of his siblings; he didn't want another family to raise. He wanted to have fun. When was the last time he'd had fun? Either he had a stock proposal to put together, a PTA meeting to attend, groceries to buy, or school counselors to deal with.

The time had come for him to kick up his heels. After all, he was thirty-seven years old, and had just spent the last twenty years being both a mother and father to his brothers and sisters. He wanted to feel like he was back in high school again–with a cool car, a hot chick, and nothing more on his mind but avoiding cops, getting drunk and getting laid.

Or he could go back to school and get his high school diploma, too. Right. He could just see himself sitting in a classroom with a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, trying to understand the economic necessity for the Battle of Hastings. No way!

He turned down a side street. Kids in leather jackets leaned against buildings, holding up doorways, with cigarettes dangling out the side of their mouths. That could have been his future–aimless and wandering–if he hadn't been saddled with his six brothers and sisters to care for after their parents' sudden death. He'd been seventeen and Patrick barely two. But still, he felt a moment of longing for the carefree adventure of youth. He felt like an old man. Thirty-seven and halfway to the grave. He had nothing left to accomplish.

Lights twinkled in a vest-pocket park situated between two towering apartment buildings. Drew entered and looked for a place to sit on one of the benches lining the path that surrounded the grass. He needed time to think. He needed time to plan his future. When was the last time he'd sat in a park by himself without a brood of siblings to watch?

Sobbing broke the silence. He turned, trying to see who was crying. The park was small and intimate, with fruit trees and a fountain at the center. Near the fountain an older woman sat, her hair covering her face, her hands over her eyes. She sobbed piteously.

Drew sat next to her. "Are you okay, ma'am?"

"I lost my job!" the woman cried.

She was neatly dressed in a hideous green dress that looked like jungle foliage. Though her clothes looked worn, they were neat and cared for. A mangy dog sat at her feet, scratching its ear and shaking its head.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Andrew said in the soft voice he had used when his younger siblings were hurting over real or imagined problems.

"My own father fired me." She raised her face. "And after all I've done for him."

Beneath the blotchy, puffy skin, he could see she was an attractive woman. Well-cared for. Not the type he expected to find sobbing in a park. "Tough break."

"Tell me about it." She rubbed her nose and honked into a tissue. "What am I supposed to do now?" She absently patted the dog's head. "And Cupid needs a flea dip." The dog shuddered and bounced away, scooting his rear end on the grass. "Everything was fine one day. The next day we have this tiny little disagreement, and I'm supposed to know how asparagus grows. Now tell me, how am I supposed to know that?"

Drew was lost. He had no clue where this conversation was going. He patted her on the shoulder. At least he could be sympathetic. "What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm sort of a couples coordinator." She wiped her eyes.

Copyright © 2004 by Miriam Pace and Jackie Hamilton