Rating: R

Summary: Some revelations from Daddy and Jo.

Spoilers: David Duchovny was on the sofa of Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist, and I've seen the tape-it is truly hilarious.
 

MICHAEL:

Kelly's gonna take a shower, I'd like to join her but I think I've probably pushed the envelope about as far as I should today. Jo heads upstairs to smoke and read.

Dad and me are just hanging out, watching Dick Van Dyke on Nick at Nite.

It's totally pathetic, what's happening to me. It's like, I know this stuff is crap. But I can't resist watching it anyway.

Sort of the visual version of a Jackie Collins novel.

I tell Dad this, and he's like, this isn't crap, it's classic!

Sometimes I think Dad thinks if it's old, it's automatically better.

Is this what I'll be like when I'm 56?

Jesus. Perish the thought.

I mean, he's addicted to oldies radio-that's all we've had on here since we got here. He knows all the songs, too. I bet he hasn't listened to any new bands since 1970.

I have to listen to my stuff through my headset at home-fortunately, when I had pneumonia, Ally and Langly gave me the most awesome portable CD player. He hates my music.

And he hates Beavis and Butthead, Ren and Stimpy, South Park, Daria, Win Ben Stein's Money, all the cool shows.

He's stuck in a time warp. I did get him to watch Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist one time. They had this dude named David Duchovny on the couch, and it was hilarious. He even laughed at that one.

Dad hates MTV, ER, and just about all the new science fiction shows. You can get him to watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer once in a while. Buffy is pretty hot.

Sort of reminds me of Kelly. But not nearly so hot as Kelly.

Nothing like the real thing.

I'm spoiled now.

I remember when I used to go on BuffyChat online. God, I haven't done that in ages. Langly says he used to, too, but then he got busy having real sex. And Jan Brady is still the love of his TV life, and I don't think Buffy ever did it for him the same way.

Dad's on the sofa, he looks like he's gonna fall asleep any second now.

Wish he was having a better time. Least he seemed like he had fun at dinner.

I hope he'll be okay tonight. He gave me a real scare last night.

By the time My Mother the Car comes on, he's snoring away on the sofa. I pop a blanket over him and head upstairs to see what's up with Kelly.

I knock on her door, she's not in there.

"In here," I hear Jo call out. I open the door, Jo and Kelly look like they're ready for bed. Jo's smoking a Parliament, sitting up at the headboard, Kelly's sprawled out on the end. Kelly reaches up her arms and gives me a cuddle when I sit down next to her.

"Y'know, if you guys wanna do girl stuff-" I'm not sure I should walk into this. I've hit on conversations like that Ally has with Ellen and Juliet, and it's pretty damn scary.

"No, no, come sit down, we're just talking," Jo takes a hit on her cigarette.

"So whatcha talking about?" I ask them.

"Just things," Kelly says.

I think in girl speak this means they were talking about me. Uh-oh.

Jo smiles. "I was just telling Kelly about Terry."

Terry. Terry. How the fuck do women remember names?

"My fiance," Jo enlightens the ignorant here. One thing about being the only guy in a room full of women, you truly do feel ignorant.

"He sounds like he was really nice," Kelly says to both of us.

"He was. Most surgeons, they get a terrible attitude. Not Terry. He always kept a sense of humor about things." She gives Kelly this look like, you better not get an attitude, either.

I think Jo'd whip her butt if she did. I know I would. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"Terry was a poor kid, like me, from South Boston, one of the bastions of Irish Catholicism in this country. Southie, he used to call it. His dad was a fireman, mine was a cop, so we had similar backgrounds in that way. But whereas my family was a happy one, his wasn't so terrific. His dad dran k and when he'd get drunk, he'd get mean. Terry's defense was to develop a sense of humor. And he had a wonderful one. He never felt sorry for himself, ever. He'd always figure some poor person out there was worse off than he was."

"What'd he look like?" Kelly's like way curious.

"It's funny, when I met him...well, I'm no great beauty, but I have to say, I would probably have never noticed him if it weren't for the fact that he was making everyone laugh. He was short-" I sort of wince, I really hate being short, but the DNA gods don't favor me in that way-"and had the brightest red hair you ever saw. He makes Ally and Byers and Dana all look as if they don't even have red hair. And a ton of freckles. Bright blue eyes, very clear, really intelligent, calm eyes, which to me was really odd, here was this surgeon, cutting into this poor child, and cracking jokes a mile a minute-but those eyes. It was my fourth day in my unit, I was a
basket case. I began to think I'd made a huge mistake in coming over. To this day, I hear a loud noise, I feel like jumping through the ceiling. Now, I don't have a wonderful sense of humor, I never have, and at 23, I was so terribly serious. I actually found him offensive in the beginning, but after a few more weeks of corpses and torn bodies piling up on us, I began to appreciate him more and more. I needed to laugh, and he helped me do it."

"So when'd he ask you out?" Kelly's like, she wants it all.

"Well, he didn't...you don't go many places when you're in a surgical unit close to the front lines. But I'd been there about a month and a half, and I was seriously wondering if I'd qualify for a Section 8-I started feeling like I was going crazy. I couldn't take the noise, the shaking, the bleeding that never seemed to stop, you name it, it was making me crazy. I began to hope that someone in my family would become seriously ill so that I could leave with some dignity. How's that for crazy?" She sort of laughs.

"I was sitting outside the OR scrub area. I'd been on my feet for eighteen hours without a break, and I was in a horrible state mentally as well as physically. One of the kids we couldn't save was a 19-year-old who had known my younger brother in Baltimore. I went crazy. I just began crying my eyes out.

"I'm sitting there, and I don't even notice our redheaded comedian sitting down by me. And he isn't usually quiet, but this time, he waits for me to notice he's there before he says anything. I almost jump when I see him there, it's as if he crept in on little cat feet. He was that quiet. I'm waiting for him to crack a joke, and before he can open his mouth, I tell him I'm not in the mood. He just nods and says, I know. Or I'd have said something by now. Then he smiles that killer Irish smile he had, and I'm done for. I knew from that moment I loved him."

"So did he love you?" Kelly's like into it.

"Well, that was the funny part. I didn't even think about him, and as you can see, I'm no beauty-I never had anything about me that would stand out. Or so I thought. But he said he admired me for my calmness and ability to do the job.

"I remember cracking up. I told him I was losing my mind. He told me, I was not. I was sane, the situation wasn't, I needed to distinguish the two. I couldn't believe he would say to me that I was calm and capable. I felt anything but. All I wanted to do was go home. I told him this. He said, all the sane people want to go home. Him included. So we started to talk about our homes. And it went from there. We kept talking for at least another six hours."

"And it was funny, I began to feel as if I could somewhat deal with the place. It was horrible, and I hated it, and it didn't take me long to realize that I had indeed made a mistake in coming. But had I not gone, I'd have never met Terry. And that was the most incredible thing. Here, right in the middle of what surely must be what people think about when they think of hell, I was, in many ways, the happiest woman in the world. It was an odd contrast to the misery around me. But there's no way I would have survived it without him. And he would say the same about me. Odd, isn't it?"

Doesn't sound so odd to me.

"You said he got killed by friendly fire. What's that?" Kelly looks confused.

Now she doesn't look so happy. "Friendly fire...is when you're attacked by your own side. Usually accidental, of course...and in Terry's case, it was...but devastating nonetheless. And to make matters worse, he was short."

"What's that got to do with it?" I ask.

"Not short like I described him before. Short meant in camp speak that you didn't have much time left to serve before you shipped home."

"How long did he have?" I'm curious now.

"Four days." Once again, Jo, like delivering the weather forecast.

Christ. Four fucking days and he was gonna go home? And he gets downed? By his own people?

Fuck. How'd she ever get through that?

And how'd she do it without being a real bitch? Because she's not.

"My God!" Kelly's appalled, too. I'm too shocked to speak, actually. That this could happen to somebody you just love so much, and then you can accept it?

I couldn't accept it if something happened to Kelly. Not ever. No way.

That this happened to Jo, well, it just pisses me off. So bad.

"It was...the worst time in my life. The only thing that saved me was that I was short, too. I had 67 days left."

"Must have been the worst 67 days you ever had," Kelly says.

"I was...so numb. It was as if it wasn't even real. That's how bad it was. It took a long time to hit me, the reality of it. My mind was so distorted by the events that had happened when I was there...but when it finally did all get sorted out, I did know it had been true and real. The one thing that had." And now she smiles, a faraway type little smile.

I think I hear her say something to him. I'm not sure what, but I think she does.

"So you see, even in the worst of things, sometimes comes the best of things," Jo tells Kelly.

"Like the rape." I jump when I hear Kelly say this. She calls it what it is.

Something I can't do yet. Brian says I need to do that, call it what it is. And it upsets me like hell to hear her talk about it.

But Kelly's like, she's calmer than she was before. She's still pissed as hell at Troy, and she hopes he rots forever-she intends to nail his ass when he comes to trial, and he will in May. But she can call it like it was.

"Whaddya mean?"

She turns over and smiles at me. "Michael, it was a horrid experience. The worst. But you know what? I wonder if you and me didn't get closer because of it."

WHAT?!

"I'm serious." She's looking dead on at me. "Michael, you've been so patient, and so gentle...and I am so happy, because instead of worrying that you just wanted one thing, I know you love me and respect me."

Big big grin from her.

I do love her. I do respect her.

I also want to make love to her till I drop.

Which, my clueless brain realizes, is not exactly the same thing as fucking.

She is so awesome.
 

And we do it again. This time, it's slower, not so urgent, and I can hang on better. God, it's good.

I got to remember to keep it down or I'm gonna wake the dead. Not to mention Dad.

I wonder if he gets this carried away.

God, I can't believe how good she feels with me.

It's like floating in warm water, it's so nice.

This time she wraps her legs around my ass when I'm ready to enter her, and it's so terrific...I'm so, well, bound to her.

She's not afraid of me on her anymore. She knows that anytime she says stop, I will.

But she doesn't say it. She begs me to come, wants me to.

I don't need my arm twisted for this one.

It's so much smoother the second time-she doesn't have trouble letting me in, and it's more-hell, I can't even describe it. Different than the first one. Less physical, although that's certainly there, and more-I don't know.

I love her so much, and I cry out her name at the moment it gets most intense. It's like I'm everywhere, she's everywhere with me.

I will love her night and day, for as long as she wants me to.

I hope it's always.
 

We snuggle up together afterwards, it's chilly in the room but warm under the covers and with each other. I love this part. It's a little like staying inside each other a little longer, even if we already separated the body parts.

Let's face it, us Frohikes are hopeless romantics.

I don't want to get out of this bed. I just want to stay here all night...

I get the feeling that might not go over big with Dad right now. I mean, he's asleep and all, but he is gonna wake up sooner or later, and if he wakes up before I get down there-well, I'm gonna get the Dad Look. And probably a lecture.

Lectures are something I ought to get from my teachers, not my dad.

Even if he doesn't think so.

Kelly starts falling asleep, she brings her fist up to her mouth and gives this big happy sigh, so I tuck her under the covers, kiss her for what must rival anybody in a Big Red commercial, and slip back downstairs.

I think I got lucky. I still hear snoring from the sofa. I can safely get ready for bed and not have to explain myself.

Even with Dad shaking the walls down, I can still hear the ocean when I crawl into my made-up bed. I love this. I decide I want to live near the ocean someday. Like I said, I love water. It makes me real calm, peaceful.

I'm feeling myself dozing, I mean, I'm stuffed on great food, relaxed all evening, had fantastic sex...who wouldn't feel like dreamland...but I hear the snoring stop. Dad's waking up.

At least he's waking up normal. I think. Don't think he's dreaming about anything bad.

I ask him if he's okay, he just nods like yeah, fine. He's still sort of asleep. He's got this big old blanket wrapped over him, like I do when I get up. He sort of staggers his way to the bathroom, he doesn't have his glasses on because I took them off him when I put the blanket over him. So he can't see real well. My myopia didn't come out of nowhere.

I'm still awake when he comes out...dressed in the blue bunny pajamas.

God, I was hoping he'd left those at home.

Of course, Kelly's seen them, it's not like it would shock her or anything.

Still a little scary, though.

"Dad, I gotta know," I ask him. "Where the hell did you find those jammies?"

"Goodwill."

"Oh."

"They're comfortable. And the legs don't hang over my feet."

"Okay."

"And I like rabbits."

I never knew that. I mean, Dad likes animals fine. He's nice to the cats and the dog, which come in the office sometimes even though he worries that the hair will get in the equipment, I think he'd rather they stayed out but Langly and Byers are real bad about letting them in. He used to squawk about it, but I think he just gave up, particularly when Screamer started coming over to him to get petted.

"Your Aunt Irene and I had a pet rabbit when we lived in Germany, when I was very small."

I didn't know that. I just figured, he'd never had any pets.

"We had a big lop-ear. We called him Mr. Floppy. He had a ring around one eye."

"So Mr. Floppy, you thought he was cool."

"Mr. Floppy was so soft. I used to love to touch his fur. Your Aunt Irene and my mother would get very nervous because I was so small, but I tried really hard to be gentle to him. He was my best friend in those days. I used to take him out with me when I'd play with my friends on the base."

"Teach him to play ball?" I'm teasing. Rabbits are not too bright, you can't teach them shit.

"No way. But he liked being with us. He'd just sit there and wiggle his nose and watch us. And if I got hassled, which I did sometimes because I was so small for my age, I'd just take Mr. Floppy and leave, and then everyone'd want me to come back because they loved Mr. Floppy. I didn't care when I was little, whether it was me or the rabbit they wanted, I just wanted to be included."

This is so weird. My dad never talks about when he was little. About the only story I know is the day his dad died, when he was eight, living in Japan. And it's a sad story.

At least this one's a happy story.

"When we moved to Japan, I couldn't take Mr. Floppy with me, and we gave him away. I was devastated. I didn't think I could get by without Mr. Floppy."

Well, not totally happy.

"I never thought about that Mr. Floppy could die, but a few months later, one of the kids on the base had his father stationed with us in Japan, and he told me Mr. Floppy had died. I wished at the time he'd never told me. To this day, I can't get used to death and dying. I'm not saying it was because of Mr. Floppy, but I've seen a lot of death, and I can never get used to it."

"Does anybody?" I know I couldn't.

"Some deal with it...better than others."

"Did you see a lot in 'Nam?"

It just sort of slipped out.

This really terrible look crosses over his face...but it's not like he's mad at me. It's like he's in real pain.

"Far too much."

"What was the worst time?" Maybe he'll tell me.

He looks like he'd rather I didn't bring this up. I mean, if he doesn't want to talk about it, I'll say I'm sorry and get my ass to sleep.

"You've heard of the Tet offensive?"

"Yeah. Heard of it. Don't know much about it."

"Tet is the Vietnamese New Year."

"Okay."

"A major attack was planned for Tet. I was aware of nearly everything that was going to happen, since it was my job, being in communications."

Okay, so that's what he did. It's not a big surprise. Just nice to have confirmation.

"So you were on the front lines?"

"I was."

Oh God. I shudder to think.

"Did you ever worry about getting killed?"

He sort of laughs. "Only constantly." He puts his glasses back on, but then closes his eyes, leans back on the sofa. "War is strange. In movies, you tend to think the fighting is continuous, but it's not. A lot of war is sheer boredom. Sitting, waiting, watching. In some ways it's worse than the fighting. Because you're on hyper alert, and just waiting for the shoe to drop. I think that's why a lot of people smoke during war time, it gives you something to do while you're sitting around waiting."

I never thought about that.

"The uncertainty is the worst part. And this wasn't conventional warfare. These were shadow warriors, you couldn't see them, hear them. We weren't prepared to fight this kind of war, none of us were. That's not the way we were trained. It was terrifying. And the land mines. I saw so many people get torn to shreds by them. They'd make these pipe-bomb land mines, and when you'd step on one, you had two choices. You could either die, if you were lucky, or get destroyed from the waist down."

I really shudder now. I just totally enjoyed myself from the waist down. Not to mention everywhere else.

I never thought about what it'd be like to never be able to do something so simple and real and important ever again.

"You were lucky," I say to him.

"I was, in that way. I think it was one time in my life when being small helped. I could step over things easily, see things, since I was closer to the ground." He laughs again. "Now the rest of my life, well, I wanted genes like Langly's."

He's not the only one. I never knew he hated being short. I know I do, but I never thought it bugged him.

"How'd you live like that?" I mean, just the idea, you go through every day...

"You go crazy. You have to. It's the only way to survive. For a lot of us, the availability of inexpensive chemical treats was our escape. I think I was high nearly every day. I was one of the lucky ones. I never touched heroin, but a lot of my comrades did, with horrible results. We sent home so many addicts...courtesy of the US government."

God, my dad had a doper phase?

I sure had one, lasted about five years...but he's got a better excuse.

I feel real stupid right now. Don't even know why.

"The real casualty of war is your humanity. In order to survive, you have to quit thinking about people as people...and I was never very good at it." He looks ashamed.

He ought to not be. He ought to be proud of himself for not falling to that. It had to have been hard.

"I wasn't a very good soldier." He's got his eyes down, staring at the floor, he looks like he's so ashamed.

I don't want him to be. I'm proud of him. He's my dad.

"Yeah, maybe, but you're a good dad."

When he looks up, he's got tears in his eyes.

Right now, I think he needs me, so I go and give him a hug, and I tell him again how much I love him. And I do. I think he's the greatest.

I don't care if he believes me or not. I'm gonna tell him enough times so that maybe someday, he'll get it through his thick skull that he's the greatest guy in the world.

Even if he does drive me nuts sometimes.

But I realize, that's his right.

'Cause he's my dad.

END OF PART 85