Rating: PG

Summary: Cherries in the Snow is a classic Revlon nail polish color. My best bud Shelley wears it on her toes all the time. Me, I'm allergic to the stuff.

Michael gets to live out a fantasy...and Langly and Ally might actually have the beginnings of real conversation.

Spoilers: Only the scene from 'Clerks' with Dante painting Veronica's nails.
 

MICHAEL:

Dad's looking at me and shaking his head, but he's smiling.

"So when'd you get to be such a fish?"

"Mom didn't tell you?"

"No, she didn't tell me that part."

"She probably just told you all the bad stuff I did."

"Well, it's not as if she had a shortage of material."

Very funny, Dad.

"At day care. At the Y. It was the only thing I liked at day care."

He nods, maybe looks a little guilty? I think he thinks if he was around then, maybe my mom wouldn't have had to be at work all the time and I wouldn't have had to go to day care...but probably not. It was already the 80s.

He probably shouldn't feel bad about that.

"I hate the water."

"Why?" I can't imagine hating the water. It'd be like hating music. Inconceivable.

"I just do. I'm not a very good swimmer."

Somehow, I think there's other reasons, but if there are, well, he's not talking right now.

"And I hate having wet feet."

That's sort of weird, Dad. I mean, on a cold day and all, yeah, it sucks to have your feet wet, but I mean, you just change your shoes when you get home. It's not a big deal.

"When I was in country, the first thing they told us was to keep our feet dry. Well, I was a little mystified by this instruction, but I soon found out the reason. It was impossible to do it. No matter where you went, and what you did, your feet were soaked."

"That sounds kind of gross, actually."

"Nobody could keep their feet dry, and when you are constantly wet, and it's hot, and you wear heavy boots, it has pretty unpleasant consequences for your feet. Foot fungus. Nobody talks about it as a problem during the war, and in the scheme of things, it sounds pretty minor, and it is. But it became a symbol of being in hell there. My feet were always screaming for mercy, and finally, it got so bad I had to have my toenails excised."

EEEEK!!!!

"Couldn't you just take off your shoes?"

"Not a chance. You'd definitely cut your feet, and God knows what else you'd encounter. Leeches in the water, snakes, all kinds of things. And there was plenty of water everywhere. It's rice country, and rice paddies are irrigated along the lines of a lake. You'd step into the water in places, it might be three inches deep in one place, three feet in another. I'm always nervous stepping into the water."

Wow. I never knew this about my dad.

And he looks sort of embarrassed.

He shouldn't be. I bet I'd feel a lot different about water if I had experiences like that.

It's like war changes big things, but it's the little stuff that you deal with all the time, it changes that the most. And that can really suck.

I need to get him out there. Get him wet.

And show him it's fun.
 

Kelly and Jo are back from their girl trip. Jo comes out on the porch with two beers, hands one to Dad, and tells me to get inside and get changed before I catch cold.

Before I do that, though, I'm gonna go see Kelly.

She's lying down on her bed, says she got sort of tired, she's not feeling all that terrific, but she'll be okay in a little while.

Her poor nose reminds me of Rudolph. It's so red.

"Hey, Kel, did you get some nail polish?"

"Uh-huh." She pulls a package from Walgreen's off her night table. Then she gives me this look, like, I have no idea what you have in mind, and it better not be weird.

She hands me a small bottle. It's a real pale peach color, kind of like between peach and pink. Guess she's not like Jo, who wears this color called Cherries in the Snow (I asked her).

"I didn't want it to be obvious," she says, taking a tissue and dabbing at her nose.

Her shoes are off, and she's just got the cutest toes anywhere. She sits up, but I tell her, lie down, I'm not gonna bite.

She's snuffling away, but she smiles at me a little and shakes her head like, you're nuts.

I take the small bottle from her, unscrew the cap, and almost drop a blob of it on the bedspread. Not good, Frohike.

I sit down on the bed near her feet, take her left foot in my lap, and rub her foot.

She jerks it back. "I'm ticklish there. Be careful!"

Okay, I need a little work on technique here. Give a guy credit for trying.

I take the brush out again and swab off some of the polish so I don't drip it all over the bed. They could have made this brush a little bigger, doesn't quite work in my fat little hands.

Then again, I don't many guys, outside of those that work Reno and Fire Island, that use nail polish. (I do know a couple).

So I start with her big toe.

This is harder than I thought. How do women do this? Themselves?

But Kelly's like totally relaxed now. And that's the idea.

I really did a lousy job on that toe, but hey, I'm a virgin at this.

I go for the next toe. Less polish seems to help.

All the way down her foot until I get to her pinky toe. It's adorably cute. The temptation to play This Little Piggy is irresistible, but her nails are wet, so I play with her other foot. She's giggling and I'm trying not to tickle her, but I'm not totally successful.

Still, she doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she's kind of enjoying this.

Me, too.

I don't know what kind of fantasies guys have in general...I think girls talk about that stuff, but guys, we just think it.

I've always wanted to paint a girl's toenails.

But now, I only want to do Kelly's.

She relaxes again when I start her other foot. She looks like she could almost fall asleep.

I'm getting better at this. I mean, it's not like I could get a job as a manicurist.

I wouldn't want to, except for Kelly's private one.

"Mmm...this is nice." She's happy now.

I finish the job and lie down next to her. We're real quiet for a few minutes, I hold her. I can hear her breathe, it's a little noisy because of her nose, but I love listening to her.

"Michael." She whispers my name in my ear.

"Uh-huh?" She'd better watch it. I'm getting hopelessly turned on.

"Aren't you going to do my hands?"

Thought she'd never ask.
 

Dinner is Jo's tonight. She makes tenderloin-real plain, but tasty. And she's got baked potatoes and Caesar salad and seven-grain bread with it. No great imagination, but total quality.

Sort of like Jo herself.

And once again, I stuff myself until I don't think I can eat anymore, but then Jo brings out apple pie...and ice cream.

This is cruel and unusual punishment. There is no way I can avoid dessert.

I'm scared to find out how much weight I gained when I get home. Even Dad looks like he gained a little on the trip, and that's good. He's been living on crackers and milk. I think his ulcer bugs him less when he's
here.

God, everything is better here.

I wish we never had to go home.

Everybody just relaxes. We watch Nick at Nite after dinner, Dad and Jo play some gin, and I snuggle with Kelly, who's tired and says her sinuses hurt a little. But she doesn't seem unhappy when she's cuddled up with me.

This does wonders for my ego, which is usually lying somewhere between the gutter and the city sewer system.

She falls asleep in my lap while Dad and Jo play cards.

"Best thing for her," Jo says as she beats my dad this hand.

"I'm gonna tuck her in," I tell them. I'm surprised that Dad doesn't protest, but he does say not to stay up there too long.

I'm beginning to think it's just a dad thing with him.

God, am I gonna say the same thing to my kids?

MY KIDS?

Jesus Christ.

Maybe my brain got a little waterlogged today.
 

ALLY:

We're hammering away, me at my homework, Langly and Byers at various and sundry items. They're still working the abortion clinics-and we're not having a lot of success. Nobody's claimed responsibility, which is very peculiar. Terrorists generally like the publicity.

Langly's frustrated because a number of fertility clinics, which he was assigned responsibility for, have gone bankrupt in recent weeks. And strangely so. A number of them were profitable.

It's not a great time to be in this area. A number of companies are starting to lay off. Juliet is among those who may be facing the axe. Byers is very calm about this, but she isn't.

It's not just our area. My brother Jason has been having a hard time getting jobs in the Bay Area, long regarded as the heart of the high tech world. Jason's never had trouble before. In fact, in the past, he turned down work to tour with his band, but the band recently broke up, and he's just grateful my mother left him a chunk as well.

I don't know why I still worry about money, but I do. It's just ingrained. I've never had dire financial troubles, but I still sweat the small stuff.

And lately, all the small stuff has been magnified. I've been having a hard time keeping the small things distinct from those that count. My perspective has been utterly warped.

Langly's working, but he recently had a performance review, and it wasn't terrific. He says he didn't give a fuck, but I know him better than that. I know that it bothered him.

Mostly because it was probably inaccurate and unfair. And I don't say that just because he's my husband. Gossip in the department suggests that everyone was given, at best, mediocre reviews.

And Langly is not a mediocre guy. Not in any way.

Including a few that only I know about. I giggle at this thought, which somehow seems totally inappropriate given the fairly somber atmosphere surrounding us. However, Langly and Byers know that I've been known to fall prey to the giggle gods at the worst possible moments, and they think nothing of it.

Julie is working inside her father's organization, but so far, she hasn't come up with much. Except for one thing, and Langly won't share it with me. This annoys the hell out of me, where normally it wouldn't. This is becoming standard.

I hate it.

I'm just praying for a miracle here. I'm hoping I'm pregnant. It would simplify things...

Whoa, back up, girl. Reality check.

It would simplify treatments. But simplify your life? HELLO!

What about work? School?

And do you think we've bothered with something as fundamental as discussing how this baby would be raised? What kind of schooling? What religious traditions? Who's going to take care of this child if we want to go out to dinner?

Needless to say, I have no answers there, because we haven't talked about it.

Then again, I have to get pregnant first, or else these discussions are strictly academic.

Screw it. I don't want to think about this now. There's a whole storm of controversy brewing in the world out there. My difficulties don't mean a damn thing in the middle of it all, and I'd be better off not dwelling on them.

In terms of the world of the political, the last few years have made no sense at all. The economy was coming around and doing nicely. The deficit was being sharply reduced. The American public approved of the job Clinton was doing.

And the Republicans were hell-bent on destroying all that. I scoffed at the notion that they could, that they could be so openly contemptuous of the American public and get away with it.

They did better than get away with it. They were voted into office.

Langly, Byers and Frohike all claim it makes perfect sense-that is, if you take their world view. It does not make them any more complacent-quite the contrary-but to them, it's following a logical progression, one which I don't see, or refuse to see. The picture they have drawn for me, I can connect the dots, but all I see are the dots. To me, it doesn't form a picture resembling anything I know.

Perhaps I simply refuse to acknowledge it because what they are anticipating is horrifying. And lately, I'm having a great deal of difficulty distinguishing what I don't understand from what I don't want to understand.

I miss Frohike. Were Frohike here, I could talk to him about how utterly miserable I've been feeling, and he would be supportive and sympathetic. I'm not saying Byers and Juliet aren't. They are. But Frohike's a daddy. He knows.

They'll be back on Saturday, and I'm looking forward to seeing him and the rest of the gang. Miranda misses Kelly. They've become quite close. This surprises me, considering that she never got on well with Michael and her relationship with Shelby was, at least for a time, very strained. But Kelly and she don't seem to have those difficulties.

I miss Michael, too. He's growing up and turning into a delightful human being. And I can hardly believe I disliked Jo when I began working for her. She's not my closest friend, to be sure, but she is a friend, and she's good and true.

And thinking about them on vacation...well, this was the week Langly and I were planning to be in Cozumel.

Not being in Cozumel, in two words, really bites.

I think about what we'd be doing in Cozumel right now.

And we might even get to the beach once in a while. I have to admit, in Manzanillo, we didn't get out a whole lot.

Best vacation I ever had. And not much sunburn.

I'll bet they're having a blast at the Carolina shore.
 

I'm getting ready to head indoors when we hear banging and get a face on the door monitor. Two faces, actually.

It's Mulder and little Rebecca. Ever since Sarah's birth, I think Mulder goes nowhere without his firstborn.

I love Rebecca, but tonight, I think if I see anything resembling a baby, I'm going to burst out crying.

So what else is new?
 

Langly comes in a little while later; Byers, Mulder and Rebecca have all left for the night. He comes in the bedroom, where I'm reading Alcestis, my favorite Greek tragedy. I haven't picked up anything in Greek or Latin for a time. I miss it, and it wouldn't hurt to keep my skills intact, if for no other reason than my ego needs reassurance that my brain is not dying while being soaked in female hormones.

I hold out my arms to him, and he snuggles up to me on the bed.

"How many more days?" He's kissing me on the cheek.

"Two."

"Oh, man. Too long." I reach for him and kiss him back, on the mouth. I probe for his tongue and find it. "Watch it, little girl. You're making me horny."

"Langly, you're always horny." I giggle at him.

"You should talk." And he's right.

Right now, I'm feeling a lot calmer and more content than I have in a while.

"So what's new with Mulder?"

"Not much. Trying to get info for us. Having a hard time getting people to talk to him."

"Seems odd. He has lots of contacts."

"Yeah, but nobody's saying anything."

"That never stopped Mulder."

"Nope. He's thinking about getting out there, checking some stuff out."

"He's not taking the rugrat, is he?"

"Thinking about it."

"Dana'll kill him."

"He was thinking more that she'd kill him if he didn't get out for a few."

"No, I mean that Dana would never allow him to take Rebecca anywhere that'd put her in any kind of jeopardy, however remote."

"Christ, have to keep the kid off the playground then."

Well, at least I know we're simpatico on the subject of allowing kids to take risks. I won't subject Miranda to unnecessary risks, but I won't hover over her, either. She has to get her knees scuffed once in a while.

"All's he wants to do is go talk to some people, figures he'd have better luck in the flesh, and hey, maybe they see the kid, they talk more."

"Langly, don't get any ideas about taking our son or daughter on any of your escapades," I warn him laughingly.

"Hey, Mulder's not gonna have an escapade."

"When have you known Mulder NOT to have one?"

"You have a point. Byers, man, he's not getting anywhere. Usually, these groups, they wanna come out and tell you what they did on their summer vacation and all that, and this time, man, nobody's saying shit. And this is Byers. Everybody talks to Byers. I mean, doesn't he just look like he's so safe?"

"We know better."

"We do, but nobody else does. Everybody thinks he's this mild-mannered nice guy professor."

"He is."

"Ah, but that's not all he is. Byers can be one devious sonofabitch."

"I know. Sort of fun to watch him in action."

"He's a clever dude. Clever isn't getting him far on this one, though."

"He'll figure it out."

"Yeah, well, whoever's encrypting files these days, I'd like to meet these guys. Make our job a challenge."

"You like that."

"Sometimes. I got enough challenges right now." All of a sudden, youthful enthusiasm gives way to a man who looks totally exhausted, and at least every one of his 37 years. He pulls his glasses off, rubs his eyes which are lined with red streaks. "Joanie's not doing so good, you know."

"I thought she was better."

"That's what she says. Her doc says otherwise."

"I figured her marrow transplant would start the process of healing her."

"Did. She's like, she's not really getting worse, you know, but she's not producing normal cells like she needs to. And man, watching her do chemo-God, I dunno if I could do that. I mean, like she's lost most of her hair, that's really bumming her."

I forget, this family has a hair fixation.

"Julie said something about getting her a fabulous fake."

"Yeah, but fab fakes cost big bucks. At least for what Joanie's used to."

"We've got the money."

"Yeah, guess we do." At least he's stopped thinking about it as MY money, which is a relief to me.

"And speaking of money, babe, when are you going to get yourself a beast of burden? As in transportation?"

"What, we do fine with just yours."

"That's the problem, sweetheart. It ISN'T mine. I never have it when I need it."

"Well, we been kind of busy."

"Langly. This weekend. Crazy Jaleel. We're going." I'm not wild about Jaleel, but he does have great prices on cars, and Langly loves him and vise versa.

"Yeah, should go and have a gab with Jaleel. He might be able to help us out, you know. He knows like a million people."

"I know that. I don't trust him, babe. He's slippery."

This makes him laugh. "Jesus, Ally, the dude sells used cars, of course he's slippery! But he's like, he's got a great network of people, and he's not useless."

"I would figure Jaleel would be more into the international scene as opposed to the domestic one."

"Hey, can't overlook that, and besides, Jaleel noses into everything. Pays to have all those cousins and aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews and kids." He looks at me, serious now. "Did you ever want a lot more kids than you had?"

"Not a lot of kids. I would've liked one more. We did try, you know." I've told him this.

"I dunno. I mean, I almost never thought about having kids before I met you, but like when I did, I always figured, I'd like like three or four of 'em, have a whole bunch around me, keep me amused, take care of me when I got old."

I laugh. "Langly, you don't have kids to take care of you! You're supposed to take care of THEM!"

"Yeah, but, you know, it's like, I got almost no family, except you guys and Joanie. Jaleel, man, he's got like this whole mob. It's kind of cool."

"Langly. Would you believe that you're going to have settle for one?" I'm laughing, but I'm dead serious here.

He looks at me. "You mean, after this one, that's it?"

"Langly, we don't even have 'this one' yet!" And we might not ever, but I'm not going to burst his bubble totally right now. "I'm not young, babe. And getting older by the second."

And I don't have the patience I once had. And should I have a successful pregnancy, I guarantee I will NEVER go through this again.

"One'd be cool. I mean, you got Miranda, she's awesome."

"Langly, you're always talking about Miranda as mine. And she is. But she lives with both of us. And in spite of the fact that you two threaten to strangle each other roughly every other hour, she is very attached to you. When you took me, you had to take the package deal."

"Yeah, but like, I can only go so far with her. I mean, she already tells me to quit acting like such a dad and stuff."

"Langly. She may get mad at you, but she wants you to be there for her, and in a weird way, I think she takes comfort in your actions. It lets her know that somebody watches out for her."

"I dunno. I think she hates me. Particularly right now."

"I don't think we can expect her to be thrilled with what we're doing."

"Guess not."

"And speaking of thrilled, the way you could thrill me right now is to promise me we're going to Jaleel's this weekend. I mean, we didn't get to Cozumel, we might as well head to Silver Springs."

"Guess we'd better, huh?"

"Yeah, we'd better. And Langly?"

"Uh-huh?"

"You get a minivan, and I will shoot you. I promise."

I'm rewarded with a gale of giggles.

I needed that.

END OF PART 88