Terror Noctu
 

FROHIKE:

June 17, 2001

It's 12:17 a.m....Michael and I are watching 'Tonight with Jay Leno,' which makes me long for the days of Carson.

Carson was at least witty. And he was totally bipartisan. He went for the jugular no matter what your affiliation was.

Leno...well...in my opinion, he's a little too fond of some of the policies of the current administration. Except the ones that impact HIS existence.

The worst thing that has happened in this country in nearly 40 years, that everyone said could never happen...

Griswold versus Connecticut was overturned.

For those not in the know, Griswold was the landmark Supreme Court case which declared that the state had no right to an interest in the contraceptive practices of married couples. This was 1963. I was nineteen.

Christ. Byers and Langly were BORN in 1963.

And Jan and I benefited from this ruling...after Michael was born, Father forgive us for we have sinned, Jan and I felt we had enough children to support. It was hard enough, even with both of us working.

It was hard, but we were happy...I think we were.

We loved the kids, at any rate. And we were content with each other, if my memory doesn't delude me.

It was always the kids.

It's still the kids.

Michael looks very sleepy and soft-eyed; he's curled up on the sofa.

I've noticed he seems to get better looking as he gets older.

Maybe he's just more content now, not so angry...the hardness around his mouth and eyes has all but disappeared.

Of course, it could be hormones as well.

Although right now, I have less of a problem coping with his hormones than with his sister's...who is bringing her partner. Any minute now.

Michael is almost out for the count...I notice the corner of the pillow on the sofa gravitating towards his mouth...once it's in, he'll be asleep in no time.

He was born this way...25 years later, the same habit continues. When we brought him home, we noticed he was more content if he had a blanket corner to suck on...and we permitted it.

Probably not a great idea, but at least he doesn't do it in public.

I have an idea what he'd rather be sucking on right now...the look of utter contentment passes over his face, the pillow corner is stuffed into his mouth...sleepy time.

I remember having a young man's fantasies. They're not much different than an old man's ones...except you've got a better shot at satisfying them when you're young...

I hear the knock on the door. At least this time it's not so loud. Perhaps Leslie's partner is quieter than she.

I hope so. I don't think I can deal with three of them, four if you count Kelly...

And all my other children. Who all need me right now, and I need to go to them...

I sometimes wish I were divisible and I could transport myself to multiple locations.

But this isn't Star Trek, and we don't have holo-programs yet.

A hologram of Melvin J. Frohike.

And here, I thought one in the world was more than it could handle.
 

Leslie's partner, Pam, is everything Leslie isn't-tall, skinny to the point of anorexia, blonde, and with a whispery-soft voice. She makes an interesting contrast to my daughter's short, chunky, brunette figure and blaring voice.

She is a polite woman, seems shy. She shakes a Benson and Hedges from a pack in her purse-and when I ask her to please smoke outside, she apologizes profusely.

Leslie asks me what I've been doing...what have I been doing?

Mostly trying to keep people from losing their minds. And every once in a while, I manage a little work.

Leslie says the drive was terrible...there was a horrible accident on 95 near the Maryland-Delaware border that slowed them up, in addition to the usual crap that constitutes New Jersey traffic...

Maryland-Delaware border. Byers is on his way to Baltimore...no, can't be the same one.

"Looked like someone got run off the road. I mean, you could barely recognize that it was a car..."

"It was nasty," Pam adds.

"Well...speaking of car accidents, my colleague Byers-you remember him, don't you, Les?"

"The redhead with the beard? Uh-huh."

"His fiancee was in an accident tonight...in Baltimore...I need to head up there for a little while tomorrow."

"Daddy, I'm only here till Sunday!"

"I'm only going for a couple hours. And I need to stop by at the hospital to see Langly and Allison...Allison miscarried."

"Tough break. She's pretty old, though, least that's what Mikey here says." She wags a finger at the sleeping figure on the sofa. "Christ, he still does that?" Referring to sucking on the corner of his pillow.

"Well, she's 45...I hardly consider that elderly. And I don't think your brother is hurting you, so-"

"Daddy, chill! I was just commenting-"

"And probably preparing to editorialize, no doubt."

Now she looks angry. "Daddy, I came down here, with Pam, to see you, and now you're talking about you have to do this, you have to do that, and you give me a hard time-this isn't fair!"

"What's not fair, Leslie? That Byers's fiancee was badly injured in a car wreck? That Allison lost a much wanted child?"

"Allison was barely pregnant."

"Pregnant enough."

"Daddy, you know, it's like, nothing has changed, has it? Everyone and everything else is still more important than me!"

She's whining...and I don't like it.

"Leslie...I didn't say they were more important. I said their situations demanded attention-"

"And you always have to be the one to give it, right?"

Pam looks very ill at ease. "Les, I'm tired...if you don't mind, I'm going to get ready for bed."

"Down the hall. We're sleeping in my brother's room." She looks at me, hard. "Well, it's not as if there's a lot of room in this place...and no way am I sleeping with HIM! He snores!"

Michael is snoring lightly, but hardly anything to wake the dead.

"Leslie...I am sorry for all that happened...I truly am. But I had to do what I had to do-"

"Lot of good it did, didn't it, Daddy? Didn't keep Griswold from getting killed in our new and improved Supreme Court, did it? Not that it impacts Pam and me directly-"

"It certainly does, Miss Frohike-"

"That's MS. Frohike, Daddy!"

"Call yourself whatever you like, but I'd like to point out, Leslie Marie Frohike, that you have not learned to look beyond the immediate consequences of anything. Have you?"

"Oh, yeah, Daddy, I don't know anything about that, just that you had to go off and do what you thought was best, and you made Michael and me be the victims-"

"Is that how you see yourself, Leslie? A victim. I have three words for you. Get over it!"

"Oh, it's that easy, isn't it? How about HIM?" She points to Michael. "Is HE over it?"

"At least he's trying." He has a long way to go...but he makes the effort.

"Yeah, he's always right, I'm always wrong, isn't that just the way?"

"Stop it, Leslie. You know that's not true...we all make mistakes-"

"Yes, some of them more serious than others! Daddy, what was so important that Michael and Mom and I deserved what we did? Was it worth it?"

I don't know. And I can't answer that.

"Leslie, have you taken a look around you lately? Do you see what's happening? Have you observed that basic civil liberties are dissolving daily? Do you realize that pretty soon, you and your pretty friend could be considered criminals?"

That sobers her up a bit.

"Mark my words, my darling girl. It will happen."

"Daddy, we have constitutional protection-"

"Which means nothing right now."

"Daddy, gay rights were determined in the legislature, Griswold was Supreme Court!"

"Leslie...look, it's late. You were on the road a long time. Let's try and get some sleep, maybe in the morning we'll all feel better."

"Fine. Night, Daddy."

She might sleep tonight.

God knows I won't.
 

BYERS:

Christ, I don't remember Baltimore being this far away...

It feels like the other side of the earth right now.

I can't get there fast enough.

Oh Christ. Juliet. What happened?

I need to talk to the MHP, see what happened to her...but not until I see her first.

Please, God, if you exist, and I don't think you do...please save Juliet...

I don't think I could go through this again...where everyone near and dear to me either falls away or dies...

I can't do this.

I can't push this car fast enough.

I look at the speedometer, and I'm doing close to 90.

As I said, I can't move fast enough.
 

LANGLY:

Miranda has finally fallen asleep on the sofa near me. I'm still waiting for Ally to come back.

Finally, they say I can see her. I shake Miranda awake.

"Mommy's back," I tell her.

"Oh...okay." She falls back asleep.

"C'mon, let's go see your mom."

"Okay."

"Excuse me, Mr. Langly...if I see her, I have to have her leave."

"Then you didn't see her."

"Fair enough. Just get her in the room quickly. Not everyone on the floor is so charitable."

Every now and then, I luck out.
 

Ally's groggy...and dead white. But she smiles a tiny bit when she sees me.

I ask her if she's okay, and she says yeah...

Sure, she'll be fine as long as she's got enough drugs to keep her knocked out.

Wish they'd give me some.

I tell her Miranda's here, and she smiles and holds out her one arm for her daughter.

Miranda hugs her mom, tells her how sorry she is, how much she loves her.

I hope she remembers to do this when her mom's not on a Demerol cloud. Ally doesn't remember much when she's on Demerol. I think that's the idea.

Miranda curls up at Ally's feet. I think Ally likes her there. She goes back to sleep.

I try to get comfortable in the third-rate furniture they keep here...God, I've been here enough, shouldn't I have my own recliner by now?

Tonight, I don't think I'm gonna get much sleep.

Both my girls are down for the count.

And I'm in the dark...and I notice my eyes are wet...

I'm glad they're both asleep.
 

BYERS:

I'm glad I'm familiar with Baltimore...I know the one way streets, where not to park...

The hospital Juliet is at is in a terrible neighborhood, but it's the best trauma care in the Baltimore area...

I need to see her.

I'm told that she's in surgery, and I'm directed where to wait.

Her condition is listed as critical.

I can barely breathe upon hearing this.

I hate to do it...but I need a shoulder to lean on right now.

I dial Frohike's number.
 

FROHIKE:

You do it every time, don't you, Frohike?

Your daughter's here less than half an hour, and already you've managed to alienate her...

The phone rings. It's either got to be Byers or Langly.

It's Byers. At least it's a semblance of the person I know as Byers. It's difficult to tell through him hyperventilating on the other end.

I try to get him to take deep breaths, to calm down. He's usually a collected soul, but I can understand him being on the verge of disintegrating right now.

I try to get him to relate whatever facts he can to me.

I learn that she was run off the road in Bay View, on the 95 near the Delaware-Maryland border...

Leslie did see this accident. I'm going to have to remind her of this.

And she may have some information.

She has multiple injuries...fractured pelvis, concussion, fractured arm, numerous cuts and bruises...no, he hasn't seen her yet.

I ask him if he wants me to come up.

He hesitates, tells me I don't have to...

Yes, I do.

I'm not going to sleep anyway.

Might as well go where I might be able to do some good. Or at least be a friend.

I almost hear the relief in his voice when I tell him I'll be there in an hour.

I understand my daughter's frustration with me...but she needs to learn that while she is personally very important, her situation may not be the most critical right now...

I think my son has begun to master that lesson.

I cover Michael with a blanket, leave a note on the kitchen table, and grab my keys.

Time to head out into a very, very dark night.
 

LANGLY:

I know it's fucking three a.m., but I can't sleep...I'm going crazy.

I got to talk to Frohike.

I dial his home number. Finally, after about a dozen rings, Junior picks up...pretty damn sleepy.

"What?" Junior was probably having a wild wet dream, and he's gonna be mad at me for interrupting it.

"Junior, where's your dad?"

"I dunno. Probably asleep. Lemme check." He drops the phone, hard. Junior's out of it, but I must sound pretty bad, or he'd have told me to fuck off and call at a decent hour.

A few minutes-and a fair amount of banging later-Junior must have no eyes on-he's back on the line.

"He's not here. Went to Baltimore."

"At this hour?"

"Juliet? Didn't you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Juliet got messed up real bad in a car accident. Dad left this note, said he was going up there for a while."

Oh God. Not Juliet, too...

"How is she?"

"Dunno. Not too good from what I heard before...I gotta take care of their cat..."

"Hey, Junior, can you do me a favor? When you get done taking care of Byers's cat, can you feed mine?"

He groans a little, but I said the magic word, cat.

"Sure. Look, you want me to leave a note to have my dad call you or something?"

"Nah. I'll call him tomorrow."

"You want me to come up and keep you company?"

Wow. Junior offering?

"Nah, that's okay. It's kinda crowded here. Miranda's sleeping on Ally's feet."

"How's Ally?"

"Tired. She's okay."

"How's about you?"

"I got no idea." And I don't. "I hate this chair."

Junior laughs, a little sleepy laugh.

"You change your mind, you call me, asshole."

"I'll do that. Thanks, fuckrag. Go the hell back to sleep."

"Fuck you, too, Langly."

He's not a bad kid, you know.
 

FROHIKE:

Driving up 95 at night...it's fairly well lit, but I feel like I'm entering the abyss.

I probably had too much Scotch before I left. I stop for some coffee at McDonalds...I grab one for Byers as well.

Tastes like shit, but that battery acid tang should keep me awake.

Our Lady of Mercy...if I remember, we're talking the bowels of Baltimore.

But decent trauma care. They chose well.

I hope she COBRA'd her health insurance.
 

I find Byers in the surgical waiting area. He looks like a zombie.

The dark jeans and striped blue shirt form a stark contrast to the milky white face. He looks as if he's in shock, and he probably is.

I hand him the coffee-extra large.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Have you heard anything?"

Shakes his head numbly. I'm struck by how disheveled his hair is. He pulls his glasses off his nose...at Juliet's request, he started wearing them all the time.

The blue eyes are heavily lidded and flame-lined. He's so pale, all the freckles stand out starkly.

I just sit down next to him.

If it was Langly, I'd put an arm around him...and he wouldn't respond at first, but after a few moments, he'd relax into me.

So I'm shocked as hell when Byers puts his head in my lap.

And sobs.

END OF PART 31