Tacitum Vivit Sub Pectore Vulnus
 

LANGLY:

God, why do I do this to myself?

I have no idea how many beers I went through last night...

I can always count the empties on the counter...provided I can drag my ass out of bed...which is a very big if right now...

And I thought I was miserable BEFORE I started drinking last night...

I'm afraid I'm going to die.

No, I'm afraid I'm not.

I am in total pain.

Why did I do this?

Ally isn't sleeping, she rolls over and brushes a lock of hair out of my face.

My head hurts so bad, her touch, which is normally something I crave like oxygen and water, is hideously painful, and I jerk back.

"Sorry," she murmurs. "What DID you do last night, babe?"

What did I do last night?

And why did I do it?

Then I remember.

I read Joanie's files last night.

And that was all he wrote.

Ally doesn't know this yet. She was sound asleep by the time I did it.

I mean, I know she needs to sleep, but I really could've used her last night. Being awake and all.

"Care for some crackers?" She keeps some Premiums near her bed, 'cause she's usually pretty queasy when she wakes up.

Works for her. She hands me a couple, and I try chewing on them-can't do it, the motion is too painful.

So I try melting them down on my tongue. Okay, I can do this.

Maybe they'll make the feeling that my guts are going to end up all over the floor go away...

Yeah, right. I make a dash for it, but I don't make it.

On the fucking carpet. I mean, it's not the greatest carpet, it's old, it came with the house.

Great. Now I get to feel like hell, and clean up after myself.

Ally pulls herself out of bed.

"I'll take care of it, babe."

"You're supposed to take it easy."

"Langly, all I do is take it easy! It's not going to kill me. Go take a shower."

It's real rude, leaving your pregnant wife to clean up after you when you puked all over the rug.

I let her do it.
 

I wish Ally'd come in here with me. I'm so dizzy I can barely stand up.

I wish she'd come in and hold on to me and rub my lower back and wash my hair and just make me feel better...

I need her.

I miss her.

Goddammit, I miss her so much.

Strange thought.

A knock on the door. "What?" It better not be Miranda, sniffing for towels.

"It's me." I can barely hear the voice over the water, which means it's Ally, she of the quiet voice.

She lets herself in, and before I know it, she's in the shower with me...

I hang on to her as though I'm drowning.

I feel like shit. She's the one who's pregnant. I should be taking care of her, not the other way around...

I can feel the tears rising up in my eyes. Thank God the water's running so she can't see them.

She knows anyway, goddammit. She pulls me into her close, runs her fingers over my back.

"Sweetheart? What is it?"

That soft voice, and her soft words, make me break.

What kills me most is that behind all that softness, that girl is made of stainless steel.

And I'm a fucking wreck.

I'm supposed to be taking care of her. She's the one who's vulnerable right now.

And it pisses me off that I need her so bad to be her usual, stainless-steel self.

I bury my face in that wet, peach-colored hair, and I just let go. Goddammit, this is lousy timing.

And she's just hugging me, and I can hear her murmuring unintelligible nothings, sounds that she uses to calm me down.

Sounds she'll use to calm our baby down.

God, she's beautiful.

She doesn't press me for anything. She never does. She knows that if I can tell her, I will.

I don't feel quite so bad by the time the hot water runs out. I'm pretty drained out, my head's still throbbing like bad disco, but I'm not feeling like I'm gonna heave my guts again.

I wonder if Ally does. She's been feeling pretty icky this week. I ask her if she's okay.

"I'm all right." She shrugs. "I'm a little nauseous, but all I do is lie around...I was a lot sicker with Miranda." Then she giggles a little. "Let's put it this way, I think I'm in better shape than you are right now."

Well, it'd be hard to be worse.
 

We're back on the bed, we're not dressed yet, I don't have the energy. Hope Ally locked the door, because I'm NOT in the mood for any unexpected guests.

She sits up next to me, raises my head so it's against her shoulder, and grabs a hairbrush, starts working on my mop. Probably a good idea, once it's dry it's impossible to get the tangles out.

I could also REALLY use some Tylenol right now, but that would involve sitting up, getting off the bed, and walking to the bathroom again, and right now that's more than I can deal with.

Even as wrecked as I am, I can appreciate how pretty she is.

She doesn't look any different yet.

I tell her this, and she laughs real soft, tells me it's gonna be a while.

I wonder what she's gonna look like.

Doesn't matter. She'll still be a babe.

Her voice interrupts my imagining what she's gonna look like all swollen up.

"Langly? Want to tell me what's up?"

No, not really, because I don't want anything to be up. I want to pretend like I dreamed it all. Like I got drunk and when I puked up my guts, it all went away.

I got to tell her.

"Joanie."

"What's wrong? Did something happen last night?" She's rubbing my shoulders now, and it's real nice. A weird counterpoint to what I'm gonna tell her.

"Yeah."

"Is she all right?"

I can't say it. All I can do is shake my head no.

"Is she in the hospital again? I spoke to her Thursday and she told me she was fine. A little tired, but that's to be expected-"

"She's not fine!" I'm amazed at how loud this comes out. I'm not trying to scream, for Christ's sake.

"Oh, fuck." She blinks her bright blue eyes, and she's like so much more emotional right now, I can see them getting all shiny, like they do when she's gonna cry.

"You talked to her last night." I told her I was going to.

"Yeah, but she didn't tell me jack!" And for some reason, I'm kind of mad at Joanie for not telling me what's going on. I know I shouldn't be, but goddammit, she shouldn't lie to me.

"So what'd...no, don't tell me. I can guess." She knows the drill around here, and she pretty much tries to keep a blind eye to it; she figures the less she knows, the better.

She has a point.

Sometimes I wish I didn't know stuff.

Somebody once said knowledge is power. Can be. But it can also be a fucking curse.
 

MICHAEL:

I hear someone in the kitchen. I smell coffee.

I hope if it's Les, she makes decent coffee. If she makes anything even remotely like that shit that Langly cooks up, I'll shoot her.

It's Dad. In the blue bunny jammies.

"Uh, Dad...I got to ask...blue bunnies?"

"I LIKE these pajamas," he's like, so fucking what?

Whatever.

"They fit, they're comfortable, and I like bunnies."

Okay, okay. My fault for asking.

He's a little tetchy here. Maybe after he's had some coffee.

I can hear the shower, which means Les is gonna make a run on the hot water. Which means I got to wait. Which means...

"Shit, what time is it?"

"11:21."

"Oh, FUCK!" I'm supposed to meet Kelly at NOON. That's 39 minutes from now.

Les better hurry her ass up. And not use up all the hot water, dammit.
 

I've killed a cup and half of coffee, and Les is still in the goddamn shower!

I can't wait anymore. I bang on the door.

"Hey, shower princess! Hurry the fuck up!"

"Fuck you, twerp!" And the water keeps running.

That bitch.

"Can't you two do something about your mouths?"   Dad is not much improved after a second cup.

At least I'm bailing out soon.

I kill my second cup, and the goddamn water is still going!

I'm gonna kill that bitch. Swear.

Finally, the water stops. Now's my chance.

"I gotta get in there!" I yell to her.

"Well, I'm not done! Go away, fuckrag!"

"Hurry the fuck up!"

"You two are going to wake the dead!" We seem to be aggravating Dad a LOT.

"You got five minutes, shower princess! Hurry the fuck up!"

"Daddy, tell him to shut up!"

What the fuck is she doing in there?

I mean, Miranda used to take over the shower like FOREVER, but let's face it, Miranda pops out of the bathroom, she looks like a million bucks. I've seen the way Les looks.

Three and a half minutes later. I set the alarm on my nerd watch.

Shoot me. It has its uses.

45 seconds. I call out to her.

"Half a minute, bitch!"

"Keep your shorts on, fuckrag! I'll be done soon!"

Dad's just shaking his head like, oh my God what have I done?

10...9...8...

That's it. I'm going in.

I think about storming the door like they do in the 'Lethal Weapon' movies, but I got a little problem.

Bitch locked the goddamn door.

What are ATM cards good for?

I grab my wallet and pull my Old Dominion 24-Hour Access card out. Cash any time, day or night.

This assumes you have money in your account. This for me is a lot rarer than I'd like.

I slip the card into the lock, and it's an old door, and it pops pretty
easy.

"What the-you little fuckrag, I'm gonna kill you!" She throws her hairbrush at me and runs into the kitchen. "DADDY! Michael just barged in on me!"

"Michael, what the hell was that for?" Dad is seriously mad now.

I don't know what the fuck Les's problem was. She's dressed for christ's sake, unless you count that she's barefoot.

But I forget. This is Daddy's little girl.

I am totally fucked.

"Hey, I gotta meet Kelly in like 18 minutes-"

Dad just looks like, I am too old for this shit.
 

FROHIKE:

What on God's green earth ever made me think these two would grow up and get past their feuding?

This is why I am not an optimist by nature.

Leslie is off on a rant about her younger brother barging in on her, Michael is screaming at her that he's got to meet the young lady and she used up all the hot water...

How old are they?

I'm a little annoyed that Michael has chosen to take off while his sister is here for only a weekend. Still, I've really had no time alone with my daughter, and this might give me a chance to talk to her...
 

"Jesus Christ! That water was fucking freezing!"

Michael's out of the shower in record time...I suspect that there were factors other than his appointment with Kelly to move him out in a hurry.

I feel a small twinge of sympathy; shaving with cold water is horrible, and he did manage to hack his face in four places...

And I feel a very tiny twinge of sympathy for my daughter, who, once again, has had her younger brother invade her privacy...

"So you got a hot date or something, fuckrag?"

I really wish she'd clean up her language. It's bad enough on Michael, but on a young lady...

Shoot me for being a male chauvinist.

"For your information, Hot Water Hog, Kelly and me's going shopping."

"What kind of shopping? The Erotic Emporium?"

She shops in those places?

God forbid.

"We're going to the Gap. That's where Kelly wants to go."

Leslie looks at him as if he just told her that little gray men landed here in our apartment. (For all I know, they have, but that's another story, and another time and place).

"You're joking."

"Not. See ya." He grabs his car keys, which he left on the counter, so at least we're not treated to his usual ten-minute rant of
I-can't-find-my-goddamn-keys.

He's got enough body piercing. I can't tell you how many times I've been tempted to give him a keyring pierce in his skin, just so he can find his fucking keys in the morning.

"Hey, wait, I'm going with you." Leslie's grabbing her shoes and following along with him.

"Who invited you?" He demands.

"Excuse me, but my brother...shopping at the Gap? I can't miss this one."

"Oh, fuck," I hear him mutter.

"I'm going, Michael, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"You do anything to embarrass me, and I will fucking kill you," I hear Michael's voice trail off as they slam the door behind them.

So much for my opportunity to be with my daughter.

And on top of that, I'm going to have to wait for the hot water to come back.

At least she didn't bug me about the bunny pajamas.
 

MICHAEL:

"Wait here." I make Les wait in the kitchen. "Morning, asshole." Langly's at the table, looking like shit.

"Same to you, Junior." He sounds like he died and somebody forgot to bury him.

I got to explain to Kelly that Les invited herself along. Maybe she'll say we can do it another time.

No chance. Kelly says, fine.

Oh, fuck.

It's gonna be a long afternoon.

END OF PART 15