Rating: PG

Summary: A visitor.

Spoilers: Nope.
 

MICHAEL:

November 20, 2000

I got to come home Saturday. I've been asleep nearly the whole time.

And my dad's worried I'll try and escape.

Like I'd have the energy.

But I do feel better. I'm just dragging my ass, that's all.

And Dad says I have to stay home this week, or he'll fucking kill me.

Considering how I did the last time, I guess I'll listen to him.

And I'm still so sleepy...
 

ALLY:

I'm supposed to meet with Frohike this morning. He's coming in to talk to Michael's boss in the center and to get his assignments.

I don't do well with stress on Monday morning. There's the stress of my missing files-yeah, I have the backup, but I'm still upset about it. Langly's trying to trace what happened, but we don't have answers yet.

There's the usual stress of trying to get two teenagers out the door, with all parties reasonably intact, and dealing with a sleepy, grumpy Langly, who doesn't want to get out of bed, let alone out the door.

My major worry this morning, however, is whether or not Frohike will find a parking space. On this campus, it's a bigger challenge than you'd think.

He's a few minutes late, but he does catch up to me. It's cold and raining this morning, and he's clad in his usual cold weather attire-leather jacket, corduroy hat, and fingerless gloves. I never did understand the fingerless gloves.

He doesn't know I know about the blue bunny jammies.

I chose to meet him an hour and a half before my first class so I can help him navigate the campus; it's not huge but the walkways were designed by somebody who did too much acid before becoming an architect. Some of them don't lead where you think they should-for example, the one that looks like it leads to the social sciences building actually bumps you into a heating duct. All my practice navigating the mess in my home and in the offices did not prepare me for this.

First stop is in Letters, and we find Michael's English teacher, a one Casey Steinert, who is also a short redhead like myself. Michael has described her as hyperactive, but she's anything but this morning. She's on the phone when we walk in; it sounds like she is talking to some kind of medical person on the other end. Something about her son. She holds up her hand in an 'I'm sorry' gesture, and then asks if she can help us while she's on hold.

She comes back on the line. "No, you don't understand. My son can't hear. He was deafened during an attack of meningitis two weeks ago...fine. Thank you." She hangs up the phone and I hear her mutter 'fuck you, asshole.'"

She apologizes to us, asks what she can do for us. Frohike tells him what the situation is, and can she provide him with an assignment for one, possibly two weeks.

This woman looks totally frazzled. "Michael Frohike. Kid with pneumonia...oh, forget it. He can do the final assignment and I'll just average what he has. By the way," she's foraging through a teal-colored backpack, "here's his last assignment. You might want to read it. It's good. Kid can write." I notice that she's written 20/20 at the top of the page; this must be her scoring system.

I hate to pry, but then, she didn't make a lot of attempts to be private during her phone conversation. I introduce myself, and tell her what my former occupation was. I tell her I know a number of people she could contact. I half expect her to be offended, but this woman is drowning, and she's grabbing on to my words like a lifeline. I give her my e-mail, and she gives me hers. I promise to send her information tonight. She excuses herself, says she's got a class to teach, and hurries on as she tells Frohike to relay to Michael to get well and not to worry about her class.

"She looks like she's having a rough day," Frohike says softly as we leave.

We hit the calc instructor in the Math-Science complex. He lists off what problems are due and hands Frohike Michael's last exam. I notice it's got a 98 at the top. He's pleasant enough, but he'll never be Mr. Personality. So what. I think he gets enough of that from his writing instructor, who appears, under normal  circumstances, to be a rather vibrant character.

The Java teacher's not in. Frohike leaves him a note; he's got a mail slot on the door, and requests that the instructor phone or e-mail him with any assignments for Michael.

"I suspect he's doing well. I know the kid can program," I tell Frohike. He just nods.

Last stop is his astronomy instructor. We notice the astronomy instructor has the same surname as the writing instructor. He's not in, but perhaps I can relay a message to him via her, if in fact they're related. I'm sure she'll tell me if he's not. And he's got an e-mail address posted on his office door. Michael probably has it, but Frohike copies it down, anyway.

Next stop is the tutoring center. I've never been here-if I get stuck, I've got more collective IQ in my reconstructed garage than most people have in an entire corporation. It's a large room broken apart by partitions, and the place is totally jammed. We ask where we can find the director.

She's in her office, and when Frohike explains that Michael is sick and won't be in this week, she almosts bursts into tears.

"He can't do that! People ask for him! What am I gonna do?" I remember Michael indicating that she was intensely labile. He wasn't kidding this time.

Frohike nods with some sympathy, but makes it clear that he's not backing down. We leave and the woman looks like he ruined her day.

My class isn't for half an hour and I offer to treat a very tired-looking daddy to some Java Centrale, which he accepts. I don't think he's slept much lately. Worrying about your kids will do that to you.

That, and getting out of bed every time they whimper, which I have a feeling is the case with Papa Frohike. I know he didn't leave the kid's side the entire time he was hospitalized. Okay, so it was only 48 hours, but that's enough to pound you into the ground.

We grab some double macchiatos and have a seat. The place is mobbed; there's not a lot of room to spare, always a problem on rainy days here. I feel somebody accidentally bump me with their backpack.

It's Kelly Martin, and she apologizes profusely. I then introduce her to Frohike.

"You're Michael's dad. He's told me about you. How's Michael doing?"

"Better. He's home," Frohike tells her.

"When's he coming back?"

"When he's well." Firmly. "Maybe next week."

"Can you ask him to call me? I've got some questions. If he feels well enough."

"I'll do that," he promises her. "I haven't cut off his phone privileges. Yet."

"Well, anyway, nice to meet you. You coming to class, Ally?"

"I'll catch up to you."   I want to finish my macchiato. Kelly's off.

Frohike's quiet for a few moments, sipping his espresso.

"He's doomed."

"What?"

"Did you see her?"

"Yeah. She's a cute kid, Frohike. Michael tutors her and they're in one class together. What's the big deal?"

Frohike gives me a look as if I'm totally clueless, which, I confess, I generally am. He doesn't say anything, but it occurs to me...

"He's crushing on her?"

"To put it mildly."

"Well, Frohike, she's a girl, he's a guy, they're together a fair amount and they've got hormones. Things happen."

He shakes his head. "They're so damn young."

"We were, too."

He looks wistful, worried and sad all at once. "I know."
 

MICHAEL:

November 21, 2000

I'm actually sort of bored. I'm still dragging ass but I don't feel so shitty. I've moved on to the sofa, which is about as far as Dad is allowing me to travel at this point. I've got one of the laptops from the office, so I can log in anytime I want, and I've got all the Biker Mice cartoons, but I feel sort of...useless. I think that's what I feel.   Ally gave Dad the calc book last night, I could do some problems I have due.

What the fuck. It's not like I have a whole lot of anything else to do.

I don't have a writing assignment except my journal, which sort of shocked me. I guess Casey's human after all. She liked my last assignment, which was even more of a shock. I thought it was a real lame piece, the way I wrote it and all, but she loved it.

My dad didn't say anything, but I think he read it. I noticed when he came home, he just came and gave me this monster bear hug, didn't say anything,
and moved on.

The Java assignment was real easy. And it's not due till next week. I did it in an hour and a half, which shows how out of it I am. That's about twice as long as it should have taken me.

Luke sent me e-mail, just told me to keep up with the reading. I'm gonna miss a trip on Friday night, but he's cool with that. He also said thanks for getting him and Casey some references.

What's he talking about?

Whatever. I work a few calc problems, and they're not hard, but I don't have as much energy as I thought I did. I'm asleep again pretty fast.

When I felt real crummy, being all bundled up in my sweats on the sofa and just sleeping the day away was kind of nice, but it's getting old real fast.

I don't feel so bad now. I felt really horrible when I was taking the pills they sent me home with. Erythromycin, and they just ripped up my stomach.

Fuck it. They pumped me full of IV stuff in the hospital, anyway. I quit taking them.

I'm sort of half awake later when the phone rings. It's probably Dad checking up on me, making sure I haven't gone and done something crazy like walk down to the mailbox in the lobby.

He's driving me nuts. I love him and all, and he takes real good care of me, but give a guy a chance to breathe, for Christ's sake.

I wonder if I'm ever gonna be able to take a deep breath again. It's better than it was, but I still get tired. And that's walking from the living room to my room.

So I'm shocked as shit when it's Kelly. She's got a test tomorrow, and she's kind of stuck. Do I feel well enough to help her if she comes to my place?

Oh, yeah. I definitely feel well enough to do that.

Maybe it won't be such a boring day after all.
 

I try to make myself somewhat human looking-I haven't shaved in days, and it feels real weird to do it again. Dad's not home, so I can hang in the shower without him screaming at me to quit using up the hot water. The shower's great, but I notice every time I get in, I start coughing up all the junk in my lungs, and it's GREY. Gross.

I'm still hacking away when I get out, but the hot water felt good. I haven't put a pair of jeans on in days, and that feels weird, too. I put the sweatshirt Juliet and Byers gave me back on, though. It's this grey polarfleece stuff and it's real soft and comfy. Not to mention that it's the newest thing I own. I'm back on the sofa until Kelly gets here, reading the MAD magazines that Ally and Langly sent over. At least they appreciate quality reading material.

I'm nodding off-AGAIN-when there's a knock on the door.

Oh God. She's here. At my house.

And I'm scared to death.

She's at the door, all damp from the rain, and she looks so cute. She's got her hair in a ponytail today, and when she pulls off her sweatshirt she's got on a blue T-shirt with long sleeves and those tight jeans that make her little ass look so damn delicious.

And she's alone. With me.

Oh God.

Fortunately, she takes out her calc book and we start working on the problems. We're sitting on the sofa, she's so damn close and she has no idea how much I'd like to just put my arm around her and pull her in closer and...

Don't go there, Frohike.

She'd scream and run, anyway.

Thank God the sweatshirt is long enough to cover up what Mother Nature is doing to me.

We work for a while, and I'm getting tired, but I don't want her to go. I ask her if she works tonight. She says no, she works on Wednesday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. So I ask her if I can make her some coffee, and she says okay, sure.

If she wants anything else, she's out of luck, because this is as much as I can cook.

I don't make the worst coffee in the world, I think that's Langly's job, but it's not great, and I hope she doesn't mind. She tells me it's fine, the stuff in her mom's diner is what she drinks usually and she says it's bad but she's used to it.

I ask her if she likes cartoons. She says she doesn't usually have time to watch, but she likes Animaniacs.

A woman after my own heart. We laugh at Yakko, Wacko and Dot.

She has no idea how much I want to just get in bed with her and get her naked and laugh our asses off there. I've never laughed in bed with anyone before, but I hear Ally and Langly, and they're always laughing themselves silly when they think nobody's listening.

It sounds nice. Like a private joke that only two people can share.

This is the first time I ever heard her laugh. Kelly's real serious at school. And she's got this amazing laugh, it's like music and it just rolls over you.

Problem is, she's laughing at Goodfeathers right now.

I want to make her laugh.

I also want to pull her on the sofa with me, put her mouth against mine, and taste her. I want to know what her little tits feel like when they're pressed up against me. I want to know what she feels like when I'm sliding myself inside of her...

I throw the blanket over me. This is ridiculous.

Animaniacs is over. I ask her how her sister is, and she says she's okay. She always looks bummed when she talks about her sister. I tell her I'm sorry. She says it's okay.

"Tracy's just not too intelligent, that's all. She lost this baby, but how much you want to bet that in six months, she'll make the same stupid mistake?"

"Can't tell you. I don't know Tracy."

"Yeah, well, I do, and she's like my mom. I love my mom, but it's like I'm the mom and she's the daughter, know what I mean? I mean, everytime there's a problem, she's like, 'oh, Kelly, you know what to do, handle this.' And I'm tired of it. I'm only 18 and a I feel a hundred."

"You don't look a hundred."

"Thanks. Right now, I have to focus on my schoolwork totally. I can't make my mom understand this. She thinks I can just do it without working hard, and I know she's proud of me, but she doesn't get it. She's like, oh Kelly, just stop by the diner on your way out and pull some things from the walk-in, I forgot to do it last night. Yeah, because she was in such a hurry to get out and drink with her new boyfriend. I swear, she'd do better if she gave up men. If you want to call the males she hangs with men. Her new one is 27 years old, can you believe it? I mean, he was 9 when I was born!" She closes her eyes. She's sitting cross-legged on the floor, and she looks so unhappy. "I feel like I've never been a kid. Isn't that bizarre?"

"Nah. I started living on my own at 16. My mom kicked me out."

"That sucks. Why'd she kick you out?"

I'm not ready to go into all this. "I...had some trouble at school, and she didn't want to deal with it. So she threw me out of the house and told me to not come back. And I didn't. I never did."

"So what'd you do?"

"Lived with some friends, fixed cars, did some computer work here and there. I got by." She doesn't need the gory details right now. I don't need to look like a total loser here. "I did get my GED eventually."

"That's great. I wish Tracy would think about going back to school. I keep trying to tell her she can do it, but it's like she just doesn't care. She works in my mom's diner and goes out and that's all she does. It's like she has no goals." She sighs this big sigh. "I have to get out of there, Michael. School is my only ticket out. This has to happen for me. I have to make it happen for me. I wish I could afford to move out and get a different job, doing something in medicine, but every time I tell my mom I wanna do this, she freaks out. I hate to tell her this, but once I do my lower division stuff, I'm outta there. I'm gonna use my scholarships and go to a university and make it happen."

She looks real desperate. This is a feeling I know well.

"What kind of medicine do you want to do?"

"Surgery, I think. I'm not real sure yet. All I know is, I have to do it."

"Maybe I could help you."

"How?" She's skeptical.

"Well, you know Ally Langly, right?"

"Yeah, she's nice."

"Ally works for this doctor at Georgetown. Maybe you ought to talk to her."

She pushes out her lower lip-God, she's adorable. "Maybe I'll do that. All I know is, I'm so sick of working for my mom and dealing with all the drunks and getting my ass pinched..."

Well, it's such a pinchable ass, I want to tell her, but I don't think she's
going to appreciate that.

"And I need some experience to get into med school. They look for that. When I was in high school, I did some volunteering at Planned Parenthood, so I have some clinical stuff, but I need some research stuff, too. My mom gave me so much shit about volunteering. She's like, why are you working if you're not getting paid for it? Trying to tell her I needed this on my med school apps was like talking to a wall. For some reason, she just thinks I can say I'm going and it'll happen like magic. She doesn't understand how competitive it is out there."

"You can do this, Kelly."

"Thanks. You're about the only one that tells me that."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. You're the first person who takes me seriously on this."

"What about your advisor?"

"My advisor just tells me what to take and not to get below a 4.0. So much for encouragement."

I'm going to tell her she'll be a great doc and all that, but I burst into this coughing fit. Yep. My timing is perfect.

"I'd better go soon. I have a lot of studying to do and you look like you need some rest."

"Rest is my life these days. My dad has a death threat on me if I leave the apartment. He's driving me nuts."

"Yeah, but at least he cares about you. And he's the parent and you're the child, and at least he acts that way. My mom cares about me, but she's such-she's such-she's such a...BIMBO! Oh God, that's terrible. I shouldn't talk that way about her."

"'S okay. I'm not gonna tell if you don't."

"Did I tell you I met him yesterday?"

"No, you didn't." Shit.

"He was having coffee with Allison, and I almost knocked over Allison's drink, but he seemed nice. Quiet. You look like him."

Oh God. Now she knows. I'm surprised she hasn't gone screeching out of here already.

Then again, I kept my hands off her. All afternoon.

I can't believe it myself.

After she leaves, I'm gonna have to call Dad and see how long he's gonna be, because I really need to raid his collection right now.

I've had the blanket on for ages. And I needed it, believe me.

"Dad's okay. He just acts like an old mother hen since I've been sick."

"Maybe that's what you need right now."

"Maybe. Most of the time, though, it's like he expects all this stuff from me, and then when I get sick, he's like, no you can't do any of it now. I have no idea what he wants from me half the time. Like I'm supposed to kick in a certain amount for rent, but I don't know how I'm gonna come up with it this month, I missed work this week-"

Keys in the door. Shit.

And it's Dad.

I say hi. He looks over at me, like he's not sure what I've been up to. At least I'm on the sofa. He says hi to Kelly, who has this look like it's time to exit stage right. Dad asks her how she is and all, she says she's fine, I was helping her with her math.

Then he tells me it's 7:30 and it's bedtime.

Oh Jesus! Right in front of Kelly.

I'm gonna die.

Kelly says she'll see me when I get back.

"I wasn't aware you were planning to have company," he says to me, in this father-type voice.

"I helped her with her homework!"

"Uh-huh. And what else?"

"Dad, I didn't touch her!"

"Really."

"Really. I didn't. She needed some calc help, and we did that, and we watched Animaniacs."

He shakes his head. "She's very young, isn't she?"

"She's 18."

"And you're 24. And I don't want to find out you took advantage of her."

"Jesus Christ!"

"Michael, you both are so young, and you've got so much you both have to do. Don't do anything stupid." He heads for the kitchen and pours himself three fingers of J&B.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad." He's really pissed me off now.

And I can't even borrow one of the videos.

Sometimes he can be such a bastard.

END OF PART 17