FROHIKE:

I never expected this

Not even after Susanne passed on, did he have such an extreme reaction. There was, of course, deep sadness, and anger, and terror, and misery. But he remained mostly close to himself, not expressing himself except in the most obtuse fashions.

Not now.

I've only rarely run my hands through that auburn hair.

I am jealous as hell. He has GREAT hair-thick, medium texture, wonderful reddish-brown color, now shot with gray-but only enough to make him look a bit distinguished.

Well, until you realize that he's still got freckles. He probably had more when he was younger-I think I remember him having a few more even when I met him at his age of 26 years-but there are some vestiges of youth, of innocence, left in those few spots of light brown pigment that cross the bridge of his nose.

I let him pour it out. My knees are getting damp, and I don't give a good goddamn.

Back when Langly was an alcoholic mess, I endured this many nights. The incoherent sobs of someone absolutely lost in a dark and unpaved wilderness.

Not so with this boy.

I guess some things have changed over time.

I always knew Byers had an emotional life. No one without one that ran deep and hard would endure the things he has and still have the fervor he does. But it has always been deeply submerged, buried beneath the well-tailored (well, as of late, anyway-Juliet makes him buy better suits) exterior.

We have not yet heard word on Juliet, and I am growing increasingly worried. She was apparently unconscious when she was brought in, and we have not been
informed as to the progress she is making in surgery. She has been there for over ninety minutes now, and I find my anxiety rising and my stomach rebelling.

Ulcers are truly a bitch. And with this crowd, I can be assured of always having one.

One of the true certainties in my life. Thank God there are a few of them.

He is crying silently, but the shuddering is anything but subtle. Every nerve has been stretched taut and pulled hard, forcing it to snap back with a vengeance. Each time it does, there is another furious tremor of body and soul in this young man.

Not so young as he was when I met him, but to me, he will always be young. You always see your kids as younger than they are.

And I definitely see this one as one of mine.

Which means that any suffering he endures, by simple association, will become mine.

And you wondered why I have ulcers?

I sure as hell don't.
 

We wait, and we wait, and we wait.

Finally, his sobs subside. He makes no attempt to move from my lap, and I don't force or even encourage him to do so. I rub the area between his shoulder blades in small circles, just as I do with Michael when he is ill or upset, in an attempt to calm him. It seems to have some effect. For a time, he is motionless save for the occasional tear-choked breath.

When he sits up, I notice he looks terribly embarrassed, as if he has done something shameful.

Which, to my mind, is ridiculous. What in the hell is shameful about concern, about caring, about anguish and heartbreak and worry and love?

And they say the Frohikes are dysfunctional, to use the popular parlance.

We got nothing on clan Byers.

I simply nod at him, pass him a look that says, look, you're with me, who do you have to impress, anyway? This seems to offer some mild reassurance to him.

The face is pale; all of his freckles, normally which are muted, stand out abruptly. The hair which seems to fall into place on its own is mussed, and the crystal blue eyes are surrounded by whites that are more shocking pink than white.

We don't talk. We are just there, as we always have been.

Women argue that men don't show their feelings. I would like to take issue with that statement.

We do. We just have our own unique way of suffering, which may be the ultimate difference (aside from the more obvious and delightful ones) between the sexes.

And you ladies wondered what male bonding was all about.

Simple. It's about you. It's always about you.
 

I need to find out something, anything, soon. Byers and I haven't uttered a word, but I notice that every now and then he will lean over in my direction, as if to make certain that I am still there for him.

I'm nearly ready to stand up and chew somebody's ass when we're interrupted by a green-gowned figure.

Juliet is alive, if not especially well. In addition to numerous fractures, she did suffer a severe concussion.

The surgeon, however, is optimistic. He feels that in time and with good rehabilitation, she will recover.

In time. With good rehab. The two qualifiers in here are absolutely deadly.

The good news is that her spinal cord is intact and undamaged.   While this is short in delivery, at least it is a small phrase with large impact.

The bad news: ruptured spleen, which required removal; puncture in the lower left lung; broken pelvis, broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and more bruises than most people have skin area, not to mention the concussion and numerous facial cuts.

In other words, at this point in time, she virtually cannot carry out her day to day life functions without assistance.

Oddly enough, the item causing the surgeon the most concern is the broken arm. Apparently it was not what you'd normally think of when you think arm fracture. It broke through the skin in a number of places and was crushed fairly badly.

The surgeon isn't saying it, but it seems there may be a possibility of Juliet losing her arm.

He's not ready to jump on that one, though, and I'm grateful for this. I don't think Byers would be listening right now, anyway. He is just so relieved that Juliet is alive...

He begins to sob again when the surgeon leaves the room.

I'd better stick around. He may start sobbing again when she comes out of recovery.

And this time, it might be from something other than relief.
 

LANGLY:

Right now, they look real peaceful, Ally and Miranda.

Course, in Ally's case, it's gotta be the drugs. Only good thing you can say about hospitals, they do have decent drugs.

Wish somebody'd give me some. Might even get some sleep if they did.

Christ What a fucking awful night. I mean, I haven't had a night like this...

Well, since Joanie died a couple weeks ago.

Wow. Two whole fucking weeks where it was just miserable instead of catastrophic.

And it'd be different if it was just Ally and me...I mean, I feel like, what the fuck am I being punished for already?

But now, it's Byers and Juliet. And I'd like to know what the fuck they ever did to deserve something like that.

I'm debating with myself whether or not to tell Ally when she wakes up. 'Cause if she knows, she's gonna wanna bail right out and head up and be with our friends, instead of lying here and getting better.

And if I don't tell her, she'll go ballistic on me.

Do I want sick or ballistic?

This seems pretty representative of the choices I get these days.

They all suck.

In a way, it's real sick to say this, but it's almost like it's a relief somebody else has something bad going on.

Because that means I don't have time to think about what's happening here.

Which is fine by me.
 

MICHAEL:

"What the fuck?!" I hear this shriek come of out what I think is from the kitchen, and then I remember.

Sister dearest is here.

And she's in a real bad mood.

"What?" I'm still kind of out of it.

"I can't believe that Pam and I drove all the way down here, and he's gone up to Baltimore!"

Les is pissed.

She is such a bitch.

"Prof needed him to go. He went." Seems reasonable to me...

I conveniently forget there was a time when I would be a lot less sympathetic. It's real easy to do.

She slams down her coffee mug, knocking a puddle of it all over the table, which I am NOT gonna clean up.

"You know, it's always this way with Daddy, isn't it? Everything else is more important than me. Everyone else is more important than me. It's like, I don't even know why I bother. It's obvious he doesn't give a flying fuck!"

She stomps off in a rage to my bedroom, where apparently her sleeping beauty partner has missed this little melodrama.

You don't get up early in the Frohike house, you're likely to miss some dramas.

A good reason to sleep late.
 

Les can cook in her own sauce, but I got two sets of animals to take care of. First, I'll go get Kelly, and we'll feed Ally and Langly's cats, and then we'll go to Byers's and feed the Tiv cat.

I sure wish Tiny was still there. I love walking dogs and playing with them.

I really miss that mutt.

I'd like a dog, too, but I'll settle for a cat. And I'm gonna have one, soon.

I mean, I don't mean it to sound like I'm only taking a cat because I can't get a dog and something is better than nothing, which it is...but cats are awesome, too.

I just miss Tiny big time, that's all.

I think about something Kelly said to me when we first met each other. That one of the reasons she wanted to be a doctor was so that she could make enough money so she could have a big enough place with dogs and cats all over.

I think I'd like that, too.
 

I go to get Kelly, and she's already up and fed the cats there. Motley's playing with this stupid furry mouse; they've got about a million of them all over the house, and you never can find them because Motley hides all them.

Motley does real mice, too. There're lots of rodent holes in the yard here, but the only time I ever see a rodent is in the jaws of the kitty cats.

Motley is one of the most brain-dead calicos I ever met. She's like got this perpetually confused look on her face, and she purrs all the time like ignorance is bliss.

And how.

I envy the hell out of that cat.

Kelly says sure, she'll come with me to feed Byers's and Juliet's cat. She thinks Tiv cat is real pretty, which she is. Spoiled as hell, too. I mean, Motley and Screamer and NY Times are pretty spoiled, but nothing like Tiv cat.

I think it's great. I mean, you're not gonna spoil your pets, why do you want them, anyway?

Pets are just so great.
 

I haven't been much to the prof and Juliet's place.

It's so fucking clean it's like nobody lives here. Well, almost.

But it's like so weird that you can see the tops of desks here. Dad and me, we got desktops, but we haven't seen them in years.

And like there's one glass in the sink. One glass! Hell, we don't even do dishes till we get down to one glass in the cupboard, and that's only if both of us want something to drink.

They stack their newspapers, too, unlike us, we just leave them all over the place.

Course, if we got a giant bird, we'd have lots of use for leftover newspaper...

I always thought it'd be cool to get a macaw or something.

Tiv cat is like, what the fuck, where's my slave, where's my goddamn food already?

We take care of the food part, but with this cat, you can't eat and run. She's used to being the center of attention around here.

So Kelly and me are like, okay, we'll wait till she's done, and we'll play with her a little.

"This is a gorgeous room!" Kelly's checking out the bedroom.

Never been in the prof's room.

Nice...quality stuff. Looks expensive, real old fashioned. And stuff matches in here, and they MAKE THEIR BED...weirdness.

It's a great looking bed. It's got four real tall posts and all these big fluffy blankets and pillows...

"Kel, c'mere." I jump up on the bed, and I pat the mattress.

If doing it in Ally and Langly's bed was fun, well...

She looks at me like she's not sure about this. "Michael..."

"Hey, we did it in Ally and Langly's bed, why not this one?"

"Well...it's different...I live there..."

"So did I."

"And it's not like they'd ever even notice. I mean, these people make their bed!"

"We could make the bed when we're done."

She gives me this look. "I didn't think you knew how."

"'Scuse me, I do know how. I choose not to!" I mean, I'm just gonna get back in it...what the hell's the point?

"Well..." and then I get this real evil grin. "I'll get a towel."
 

This bed is like the most wonderful bed in the universe.

I am never getting out of this bed.

Where the hell do you get sheets that feel like this? I mean, this is amazing! My skin approves totally of this.

I suppose the real question is, what the hell do you pay for sheets like this?

Being naked on this...I mean, this is incredible.

All the more incredible because my girl is here with me, and she's naked, too.

She's so gorgeous. The more I see her, the more gorgeous she is...and it's like now I know where all her curves are and I'm starting to know what makes her buzz.

Like I know if I kiss her shoulders real soft, she'll just start this little sighing noise and it's so sweet, and then I move and kiss her neck, and I'll even nip at it a little, she likes it, although if I really want to give a love bite, I have to make it somewhere where nobody sees it...she doesn't like going to work where everybody can see it. Then I start kissing between where her tits come together, and then I work out to each beautiful mound, and I start underneath, which she really likes a lot. And then I'll go to the tops of them, and finally I'll end up at the nipples, and when I touch them, they get dark and hard and big. I try to always be real gentle, but
sometimes when she gets real turned on, she wants me to really suck her. Which I can do. God, it's like pure bliss when I'm there...I feel so calm when I got one of her tits in my mouth. Awesome.

And she likes it when I run my fingers over her belly button and massage her tummy, and you can watch-well, you can't, but I can!-her start to get nuts.

I do all this for her...and then I move my fingers down to her curls. She's got light brown curls, lots lighter than mine, coarser too. For some reason, I got a ton of body hair, but it's silky, like a kid's...Kelly says she likes it a lot. I run my fingers through them, looking for the spot that will make her just start wiggling under me. I got to be careful. She says it's real intense and if I'm not real gentle, it can start to hurt, so I take it easy. I slip my fingers into her holy of holies, one first, then
two-oh God, she is so wet. And so warm. Honey sweet and hot.

Tonight I get brave. I kiss her gently on her curls, and she gasps a little. I do it again.

I move my mouth down a little more to where it's all soft and wet...oh God. I want to eat her out. I want to swallow her, just like she did to me last night.

It was so incredible...I just couldn't believe, I was dissolving in her mouth...sliding down her throat

I want to do this to her. I want to know what she tastes like. I wonder what I tasted like to her. (Ally says Langly tastes a little like soap, real weak soap). I know I'm kind of sticky and slippery, but she's just slick and glorious...a little bit tart.

I kiss her there. She gasps. I dart my tongue out like the little snake that I am, just a little. She's moaning, these little moans, I ask her if she wants me to do this and she says oh yeah.

I do this more times...she tastes so good. Sweet and tart all together. She smells like...like she wants me. How do you describe what desire smells like? That's what we smell like when we're together.

I can feel myself just getting harder and larger and harder and larger as I do this. God, I don't want to come before she does...

And come she does, she's crying out hard. She yells out my name, says she loves me so much...

I want inside her so bad. I know how great I feel when I'm there...

But first, time to raid the prof's supplies.

We're laughing our asses off as we try to pick out one...talk about selection. I don't think Rite Aid's got this many brands and models...

We decide, what the hell. Neon blue. And we're still laughing like crazy as she slips the damp rubber over my cock...her hands are so nice...

And then I come up to her, on my elbows and knees, and I mount her, and I want inside that warm wet space so bad...I slide in...I hope she likes it there after so much action already...

She begs me to come now.

I do. I'm screaming too.

Oh man...

KellyKellyKelly...
 

We're all snuggled up in the prof and Juliet's awesome bed. I love these sheets.

Still, even if I was on rocks-and I have been, at the beach-I'd feel great. Just being with Kelly, her soft skin, her rounded body, her great hands and mouth and pussy...

If she hadn't worn me out so bad, I'd want to do it all over again. Right now.

But we got stuff to do.

And sister dearest is still in town.
 

LANGLY:

Miranda's awake. She wakes up slow, always looks real groggy when she does.

Just like her mommy.

Her mommy's still sound asleep. She looks so damn tired. Her curls are all gone, got smashed flat, her face is all white.

Still the most beautiful woman on the planet.

Miranda asks what time it is. It's after ten.

I got to get this kid home soon, but I don't want to leave her mom.

I don't even hear Frohike as he walks in, a bunch of pussywillows in hand, which is like so cool. Ally loves pussywillows.

"How is she?" Frohike whispers to me, then looks a little startled when he sees this sleepy kid on the end of the bed. "And her?"

"Okay, I guess." I got no idea how any of us are right now.

"And you?" He looks at me hard.

"Tired."

"Uh-huh." He goes over to Miranda. "Young lady, you look exhausted."

"Fro...you mind doing a favor?"

"No, not at all."

"Can you take Miranda home?"

"Of course. Miranda, dear? Are you ready?"

"Uh-huh." Miranda's sleepy, she wants to go, she knows her mommy's okay.

Well, at least her mommy isn't going to die, and right now, that's what's important to her.

"You staying? You could use some sleep." He's being a dad again.

"Wanna be here when she wakes up."

"Probably a good idea. Miranda? Shall we?" Frohike's so old-fashioned. He holds out his arm for Miranda to take, and she does.

But just before she leaves, she comes over and gives me a real quick hug.

"I'm sorry Langly." She says it softly. And she means it.

When they're gone, I can feel the tears start to come.

END OF PART 32