Rating: PG

Summary: Gizzie wrote the second part...actually, I rewrote it, so it's not as good as if Giz did it...

Spoilers: Nope.
 

This day is taking forever.

I take a nap, but I'm more awake than I was the past couple days. I think it's been a couple days. I'll have to check on that.

Dad's there, typing away into his laptop.

He asks me if I'm feeling better. I don't say anything to him.

I don't want to talk to him right now.

I put on my headphones to my CD player and crank it up. It's a cool player. Like I said, put Langly in an electronics store, he does good.

But he's still a bastard.

I listen to music until the cartoons come on. At least I get Bugs Bunny and Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain here.

That kills an hour and a half.

Every now and then, Dad asks me if I'm okay or I need something.

I'm not talking to him.

He's pretending to work during the cartoons, but when Bugs is on, I see him sneaking looks at the TV.

Then I remember that when I was real little, he used to watch Saturday morning cartoons with me. I'd get up real early and my mom wouldn't want to wake up, so Dad would get up, make me some toast and give me cereal (Cocoa Puffs-my favorite), and we'd watch the cartoons.

Dad always did like Bugs.

That was a real long time ago. Like twenty years.

Look, I can forgive him a lot of things. I know why he went to prison now. I know why he did the things he did. I've seen stuff, and I bet I'd do the same thing.

But I hope I never have to.

And it doesn't make it hurt less. He wasn't there to show me how to drive, shave, or use a reversing drill.

Figuring them out on your own doesn't always work so great. I mean, I learned to do all of them.

But there's always gonna be this monster hole in my life where there's No Dad Around.

At least he's trying, though.

But I'm still pissed at him.

Dad tries. But not Mom. You can tell. Sure, I can come see her now. I've done better. As long as I'm not totally fucking up, I can see her.

At least with Dad, even if I fuck up, he's there.

So why the hell did he call my mom?

It's not like HE's in for any big reconciliation with her. No way. Like I said, there's too much between them that's come and gone. And it's not like Leslie's gonna accept Dad. She still thinks my mom's a total victim here and that it's all Dad's fault.

And Leslie still thinks I'm pond scum.

So what the fuck was she doing here?

The cartoons are over, and Dad says to turn on the news. (I've got the remote-ha ha). It's either that or Montel Williams, so I flip to NBC local news.

Nothing much happening. Lots of talk about getting ready for the inauguration.

Time to go back to the headphones.

I pop them on, but as soon as I start up Barenaked Ladies, Dad starts calling at me. He tells me he wants to talk to me.

I tell him to fuck off.

He comes over and pulls the headphones off me and tells me I'm gonna listen.

I first get the standard issue Dad lecture about watching my mouth. He ought to tape it, he says it to me so many times. Just start the tape whenever he feels like telling me I ought to have more respect.

For what?

For my parents? My country? My school? What?

If it deserves respect, it gets it.

Right now, respect goes out to Kelly and Ally's dog Tiny.

I miss Tiny. Tiny's cool. I bet she misses me. She'll probably try to love me to death when she sees me next time.

So nice to be popular with a large mutt.

But at least Tiny respects ME. Right now it's a real short list of people who respect me.

So why the fuck should I respect them?

"Michael. I think you should see your mother this Christmas."

WHAT?!

He's out of his fucking mind.

"At least call her when you get home and tell her how you are."

"I don't think so." I'm gonna put my headphones back on now.

"Michael. She loves you. She's worried about you."

"She has a mighty strange way of showing it!"

"I think you should try to repair the damage that's been done. As should she. She wants to."

"Not likely."

"Yes, likely." He's losing patience with me. I don't care. I'm losing it with him. In a hurry.

"Look, she threw ME out!"

"I don't think she intended it to be a permanent arrangement."

"Right. I'm sure."

"Michael, you have to admit, you did put her through a lot."

Okay, I've had enough of this shit.

"And what about what she put me through? Huh? I was a kid!"

"She knows that. I think she's tried to learn a lot in the time you two have been...apart."

"How the fuck can you stick up for her? She threw you out, too!"

He looks sad, but too bad. "And I deserved it. I made a choice. I have to live with it."

"Yeah, but I had to live with it, too! And Les!"

Jesus fucking Christ, why am I sticking up for Leslie?

"Michael. I've said it before. I'm sorry. More sorry than you'll ever know for all that happened. Believe me, had things been different, I would have been there."

I believe him. So what.

"It's too late for me to undo the damage I inflicted on your mother. That was over a long time ago. It's water under the bridge, lots of dirty water. But not for you. Please try to forgive her, Michael. I'm serious about this. Don't make some of the mistakes I did."

I think I'm already there. I wonder if I'm making all his mistakes.

Scary thought.

"I just wanna know. She throws you out. She doesn't let you see me and Les. She throws me out. What's the deal with forgiving her?"

He looks real sad. "Michael. Trust me on this one. You need to do this."

"I don't think so."

I put my music back on, but he holds up his hand.

"It's not just your mother. I've done wrong with others, too."

"You mean, like DEE?" I remember the name from the night he's talking to Byers in the kitchen.

He looks like I just hit him hard in the face.

Too bad.

"Who told you about Dee?" He looks real defensive.

"You did."

"I don't recall that."

"You oughta be more careful what you say. Walls have ears, you know."

"Walls have bugs. Little pitchers have big ears. You always did. Your mother and I couldn't say anything without you finding out-"

"Cut the crap. Tell me about Dee."

He's in pain.

Good.

Why the hell should I suffer alone?

Takes him a long time to pull it together. I obviously hit a sore spot.

I feel better about this.

"I met Dee...a long time ago. Right after I was released from Club Fed. I'd actually gotten a job through my parole officer. She worked there."

"And?"

He glares at me, like I'm rushing him or something.

Too bad. He threw one on me. My turn.

"Dee was ten years younger than I was. A very talented programmer. Brilliant woman. And kind and sensitive. Not to mention incredibly lovely."

Not to mention, of course.

I wonder if she had big tits. Dad's into big tits.

Maybe that's why he married my mom.

"We had wonderful days together."

And nights, I bet. But he's such a prude with his kids, he won't say this.

"But then...things began to fall apart after a couple of years. Events transpired."

"What kind of events?" He's not getting off the hook that easy.

He really looks pained now.

Good. Paybacks are a bitch, but so fun.

"Dee...had gotten pregnant. I didn't know about it. She didn't tell me...she wasn't sure she wanted children at that point in her life."

"Did she know you had kids already?"

"Yes. She also knew I had no contact with them. This disturbed her a lot. She always thought I should fight your mother on that."

So why didn't you, you cowardly bastard?

You could've.

"So don't tell me there's another Frohike running around out there, fucking up everything."

"No. There isn't. She miscarried. She didn't tell me until after the miscarriage. She almost died, and I had no idea what was going on.""

"Did you want this kid?"

"I would have accepted this child in my life and loved it very much." Typical Catholic dad response.

Good thing he didn't have it. Because then he'd have a kid he wasn't pulled away from and he'd never have come after me.

"It was the beginning of the end. She left me. No explanation. She just felt...she had to go."

"So what'd you do?"

He looks real embarrassed. "Nothing."

"You did NOTHING?!"

Christ, he's an idiot!

"I did nothing. For eight years. Finally, I called her."

"And she told you to get lost, right?"

"No." I think the dude's gonna cry.

Serves him right. I've cried enough.

"No. She was waiting all that time for me to call her, to come after her."

"So what took you so fucking long?"

"Michael, watch your mouth! I don't know. Fear. Guilt. Self-loathing. I
didn't deserve her."

"We were making the first steps towards coming together again. It was slow, and painful, but it was starting to work. I felt more alive than I had in years."

"Okay. So then what?"

Now he really looks miserable. "Not long after we began the long trek back, she was killed...by a drunk driver." He covers his face with his hands.

I think he's crying.

And then he packs up his stuff and runs out.

Score one for me.

So why do I feel like such an asshole?
 

It's late. I should be sleeping-it's after lights out.

But Dad's not here.

I figured he'd be back. But he's not.

This is freaking me out.

As mad as I am at him, I need him here.

Goddammit, this is so like him. Always bailing when it gets ugly.

And I feel the tears start to come out of my eyes. I'm trying to stop it.

I can't.

I'm crying about my mom. How much she hates everybody and everything, especially me. How she can't forgive my dad. She's so bitter. It scares me.

It scares me to think maybe my dad is right about her. Maybe I should try and make things up with her.

I have no idea how.

More tears.

I'm not as sick as I was, but my chest is still tight, and the way things have been going the last couple days, I feel like I can hardly breathe again.

Some nurse with ears that hear everything is coming down the hall. She's probably watching my monitor and seeing it go wild. She probably wonders if I need some oxygen.

I don't need oxygen. I need drugs.

God, why was I born?

I stuff my face in the pillow. I don't need anybody seeing me like this.

I'm crying for my mom and my dad and their anger and their cowardice and their misery. And how I was part of all that misery.

Is this what being a Frohike is all about?

Because if it is, it really sucks.

My chest is so tight, I wonder if it's possible to have a heart attack at 24.

Why does it take my dad so long to get it together?

Am I gonna be like him?

More tears. I want to stop crying, but I can't.

Somebody walks in my room. Maybe they brought some Demerol for my IV. I hope so. I don't give a fuck when I've got Demerol running around my veins.

I feel this big hand on my shoulder. I think it's Dad, but then I realize the hand's too big. And it squeezes my shoulder in a way Dad doesn't.

You would think, in a secured hospital, after lights out, a guy would be able to have a little privacy to wallow in his own misery.

What the fuck is going on?

It's not Dr. Bergman. He's got small hands like my dad, even smaller in fact. And that's not his touch. And he's been in to see me today already.

I'm freaking out. Did somebody give me Attilla the Hun for my night nurse?

I look up, and I really freak out.

It's Langly.

Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.

This is all I need right now.

Langly. My default Older Brother From Hell. He who makes my life a living hell whenever he's around.

And I'm sobbing my eyes out, and he sees it.

I am totally fucked. He will NEVER let me hear the end of this. Langly's not a photographic memory person, but he NEVER lets anything go.

"Quit touching me!" I hiss this at him.

He laughs a little. "Hey, relax, Junior. Just came by to see how you were hanging."

"You know, Langly, for a bright boy, you're awfully fucking stupid sometimes. Visiting hours were a long time ago."

"Yeah, but I got off work late."

"Don't you have something to work on at TMB?"

"Christmas issue's almost ready to go. I'm cool."

"So go home and see your wife."

"She told me I should come see you."

God, he actually listened to her?

This has to be a first.

"Hey, Junior, I talked to your dad. He told me what's going on. I just thought you'd like to talk to somebody who doesn't share your DNA."

Oh God. This is rich.

"You know, asshole, it's not like you're exactly a poster child for family stability, you know!"

"That's why I thought I'd come talk to you."

"I've talked enough today. Get the fuck out of here, Langly."

He doesn't. He sits down next to me, puts his really large arms around me, and pulls me towards him.

I want to tell him to get the fuck out of here NOW before I hit the call button, but I have a coughing spasm instead. He rubs my back, trying to calm me down.

It has the opposite effect. If anything, I'm really crying now.

And I cave into him. He just snuggles me against his belly, rubbing my back, letting me have it.

I am so fucking pathetic.

END OF PART 24