Part 59
 

Ope et Consilio
 

BYERS:

June 28, 2001

The day has finally arrived-Juliet is coming home. I cheer, for a multitude of reasons.

Many of them are the obvious ones. I am grateful beyond words that she is alive, she is doing all right, she will eventually recover. I know that she will be struggling in the next couple of months-as will I-but I am encouraged by her recovery process thus far.

I also cheer for less obvious, and more selfish, reasons. One is sleeping-or should I say, attempting to sleep-in furniture that was clearly designed for a species other than humans. Quite honestly, my back is killing me from trying to get rest in furniture that came out of Torquemada Designs, Inc.

Another reason is food. I know I've lost weight-all the clothes are loose. I've had no appetite, and when I do eat, it's been to my advantage not to have one, as most everything I've downed in the past couple weeks has had the consistency and flavor of cardboard. I'm looking forward to some real meals. My dreams lately consist largely of pasta and fruit and chocolate, among other things.

Then there are those...other things. Juliet's been given the go-ahead to indulge in...certain extracurricular activities, just so long as she is comfortable. This will require some creativity on our parts, but it's a creativity I look forward to exercising.

And we'll be with Tivvy. I cannot believe how much I have missed the daily routines of having a pet. Life with Tivvy is a continuous reminder that simple pleasures are best, that routines are important. Although she is a shameless trollop and has a habit of turning up at moments that are, shall we say, inopportune, I look forward to her presence in our bed nonetheless.

Would it be that Juliet's homecoming was not a mixed blessing, however.

She has been deeply saddened by the death of her father, and her inability to attend the funeral services for him left her shaken and desolate. I of course went in her place, at her request, but I think it left a gap in her need to bid her beloved father farewell. There have been frequent tears, coming on at moments least expected, and I expect that this behavior will continue for some time.

Shorter would be preferable to longer in this case. I am having a hard time dealing with this, for a variety of reasons. One is that I really cannot comfort her. Try as I might, I cannot remove that empty space from her life and her heart. All I can do is be there, listen to her, hold her, and hope that it helps.

There is the fact that Juliet is still very much incapacitated, as least as far as normal household maintenance is concerned. Moving about is difficult. She will need to find something to focus on while her mother picks up the slack.

Ah yes. My future mother-in-law...

I adore Caroline. Make no mistake. She is a lovely, caring, warm, and generous person.

I have also discovered that she is overbearing, inquisitive, and more than mildly domineering.

And she's only been staying with me for two days. God knows what I'll find out in...

Which brings me to another point. I have no idea how long she will be with us.

We have not discussed it, and I'm not ready to...I'm certain that she, too, is not. She has just lost her husband. Her daughter is injured and will most certainly have a lengthy recovery process.

On one hand, I am grateful for her assistance. She is very capable. The house is clean, and she cooks wonderfully, a nod to her Italian heritage. I am certain that she will assist her daughter in every way possible.

From a practical point of view, this makes sense. I have much to catch up on. I have administrative work for the university to do which I have utterly neglected. I have contributed nothing to TMB for a substantial period of time. I have articles to write (I didn't get to be the department chairman by being a pretty face) for various academic journals, peer review to conduct, hiring for the fall semester. I have grant requests to review. I sit on the graduate admissions committee and I suspect that they are growing impatient with me.

From an emotional point of view, well, logic just isn't ruling at this point. In my heart of hearts, I think I feel that this is something Juliet and I should struggle with alone. I am a private person, and having another in our home makes me feel vulnerable, exposed, and somehow, incompetent.

And I am at a time when I need to feel competent, protected.

I don't think it's going to happen, at least not this week.

Time to head for the last commute to Baltimore-another aspect of this incident that will not be missed. Discovering that I was capable of road rage was not a pleasant finding.

LANGLY:

"Well? Whaddya think?" I ask Ally as she's getting Patrick ready, pouring some coffee for herself, and writing out instructions for Miranda. Miranda is going to spend the day watching Patrick. You can imagine how that proposition was greeted. I'm not sure, but I suspect Miranda blackmailed Ally into something in exchange, like a new fall wardrobe. I'll have to keep a lookout on the Visa bill.

Whatever it is, if Patrick's not alive when we get back from work, this offer is null and void.

"About what?" She's looking sleepy. I wish she could go back to bed.

I wish I could go back with her.

She's kidding, isn't she?

Maybe she's just comatose.

"About what we talked about last night."

"Oh. That. aven't decided."

"You said you were gonna sleep on it." I don't like that I'm whining, but things have really gotten to me lately. I need her to help me get it together here.

"Langly, can we talk about this later?" She's tying Patrick's shoes and he's babbling on a mile a minute about what I don't know. "I'm tired. I have to get to work."

"Yeah, you always gotta get to work," Miranda's up from the dungeon, snarling. She's not pleased about being woken up early, particularly she's unhappy that she's in charge of Patrick today. "Jesus, Mom, why you have to work so much? It's not like we're starving."

"Miranda, I don't want to talk about this right now," Ally gives this huge sigh and stands up. She's still kind of shaky when she stands up. Girl has NO blood pressure, particularly when she's tired.

"Mom, you never wanna talk about anything," Miranda sniffs at her, and heads for the coffee pot. She sniffs the brew. "What is this shit? Can't you ever make anything like vanilla or hazelnut?"

Ally's getting pissed. "Look, you don't like it, make your own. You know how." She grabs her commuter mug, her backpack, her purse, and heads for the door.

"Where you going!" Patrick shrieks at her, and I feel like my head is going to explode.

"To work, where I go every day," her voice is a little more reasonable with him, but I don't think it's gonna last long if he presses on her.

"Don't want you to go! Stay here!" Patrick moves in front of her.

She sighs again. Now I know where Miranda got it. "Look, Patrick, I have to go to work. Okay? I'll be back later. Now be good for Miranda." She pushes her way hard out the door.

Girl is in a mood today.

Miranda glares at me. "What the hell is her problem?"

I shrug as I start filling up my own commuter mug. "Beats me. I just said the same thing to her last night."

"What same thing?"

"That I want her around more. That she doesn't need to do this. That WE need her."

Miranda looks shocked. This is great. It's so fucking hard to shock Miranda. I relish her expression.

She then mellows a little. "Well, wicked stepfather, maybe we better declare this a holiday."

"Why's that?"

"Because for once, we agree on something."

Okay, that IS a first.

I grab my own backpack. "Don't kill him, okay?" I point to Patrick.

"No promises."

Well, at least she didn't guarantee that she WOULD.
 

MICHAEL:

I feel like shit.

I thought my mouth hurt last night.

Got nothing on what it feels like this morning.

At least I don't have class today, but I got tons to do at TMB, and I got a tutoring session later this afternoon.

I can barely talk. I'm gonna do great with that one.

I can smell coffee. Dad must be up. And he is. He's probably getting ready for work.

So I'm sort of surprised when I see him sitting there, still in the blue bunny jammies.

I hope he's not planning to wear them to work. Bad enough that Kelly's seen him in them. It's a pretty scary sight.

And not only that, he's taken to wearing the Kevlar vest again.

Somehow I don't think other kids have these problems with their dads.

"You have an appointment this morning," he announces.

"I do?" I don't remember this...but then, I don't remember much these days.

"At the oral surgeon."

"What?" I thought I was just headed for the dentist, which would be bad enough...

But oral surgeons? Don't they torture people?

"One of Dr. Scully's pals?"

"Friend of a friend of hers," he stirs his coffee. "Get ready. You need to be there at 9:30."

I do NOT want to do this.

"Don't you have to go to work?" I ask him, and I'm pretty testy. I mean, I was gonna do something about this, I get real nnoyed when he jumps in and takes over. Like he always does.

"I'll be working out of the offices today. I assume you're coming in later?"

"Planned on it. Somebody's gotta do the work."

He looks like I slapped him.

I don't know why I'm so tetchy with him. I mean, he was pretty cool to me last night, all things considered...

"And I gotta figure out the bookkeeping. I gotta get some cash."

He nods. "That would be good."

Just once, Dad, say thank you!

Yeah, right.
 

I hate to admit it, but I'm a real chickenshit about this.

I don't wanna go alone.

Dad sounds like he's not planning to do this part with me.

When I get out of the shower, I call Kelly. I think I woke her up, but she says yeah, she'll come with me. I think she's a little put out when I tell her how soon, but I tell her, hey look, I didn't make the appointment, my dad did.

She starts to say something, then just says, okay, I'll meet you at your house.

One good thing about Kelly, she's almost never late. And even though I pulled her out of bed, she still looks real good. And she smiles and gives me a hug, and that makes me feel a little better.

Least she's not still reamed at me about last night.

I'm real glad she's going. We stop at Starbucks on the way. I debate about getting a vanilla Frapuccino. And some brownies. I think dentists should work for their money.

Except my face hurts too much.

"Got any interviews?" I ask her.

She nods her head, sad. "Not until tomorrow. I don't know, Michael, I might have to go back to waiting on tables...I don't want to, but it's like, nobody has openings, their grant money dried up...Ally and Langly are cool about it, but I can't go without money very long."

"Just so long as you don't go back to your mom's," I say, without even thinking about it.

She shoots me this Look. "Don't you talk about my mother like that."

"Hey, it's not like she's done anything for you, you know!" C'mon, Kel. I don't wanna fight. Not this morning.

"But she's still my mother," she reminds me, and I'm a little put off at how cold she sounds when she says it.

We don't say anything till we get to the oral surgeon's office.
 

"Look, I didn't mean anything bad about your mom," I don't care what I have to say. I don't want her mad at me, and right now, I really need her on my side.

She sighs. "I know, but...I wish she'd talk to me, Michael. I know she's not what you think is a good mom...but she's MY mom. And I miss her."

She looks real sad.

"Maybe she'll talk to you soon," I say, trying to make peace with her.

She shakes her head, and she still looks sad. "I don't know." She takes my hand in hers. I notice mine is shaking a little. I hope she didn't notice.

But she did. She squeezes it a little harder. Then she looks right into my eyes, and smiles a little.

"Michael. Think about being at the shore."

Oh God. I do that...and I may not be able to go out in public again.
 

But it works, a little. I don't lose it during the X-rays, anyway. Lots of 'em. And I have to take out all my jewelry, and I was stupid to put it in this morning...Kelly holds it for me.

The oral surgeon is a small guy, about my size, Dr. Rabinowitz...and he's got arms like a prize fighter.

This scares me. I wasn't quite looking for someone who looks like they belong to WWF.

He's not friendly or unfriendly. He's just sort of, well, you got four impacted and infected wisdom teeth, they need to come out.

OUT?

As in, pulled out? I ask.

"Generally that's how we do it," he says in the same, like I give a fuck voice.

"Does this hurt a lot?"

"The surgery doesn't."

Surgery. Oh fuck. Been there, done that. Don't want to do it again.

"So what kinds of drugs do you get for this?" I ask.

"Nitrous, Valium, painkillers afterwards. It's really not bad. You'll be very comfortable."

Sure I will. Not.

"So like I'm totally out of it then when you do it."

"No. Partially out of it. You'll be relaxed."

I don't think so.

"So what if I don't get it done, then what happens?"

"Probably develop a worse infection...you need to take antibiotics for a week, then we can do the surgery. If you don't get them out, well, you may not have many teeth left once you get to middle age."

Like I want to be reminded about that right now.

I noticed there were some extra hairs on the floor of the shower this morning.
 

"I don't think I wanna do this," I tell Kelly.

"Michael, you have to do it! Do you want to be sick and in pain all the time?" Kelly looks at me like I'm nuts or something.

"I don't want to."

"You have to."

"It's gonna hurt."

"They'll give you drugs."

"He didn't say the magic word."

"What's that?"

"Morphine."

She laughs. "You liked that stuff, didn't you?"

"Hey, at least when you're in pain and you get morphine, you don't give a fuck about anything."

"So what do they give you?"

"Valium and nitrous."

"So you'll be awake. Sort of."

"I don't like this plan."

"Michael, it'll be all right. I promise, I'll take good care of you, I will."

Okay...but only because she promised.
 

Penicillin. Great. I can have a fucked-up stomach for the next week now. Love it.

And I got tons of work to do.

I get over to the offices, and Dad's there, hammering away at something. I look fast to see if it's Excel. Meaning he's doing the books.

No such luck there.

Kelly asks me if there's anything she can do, and I say, unless you know Excel...

Which she doesn't, except for lab reports.

I need some money.

Okay, here goes.
 

"So what's the verdict?" Dad asks me, looking up from his stuff.

"He's getting his wisdom teeth out," Kelly cuts in. I've got her doing some stats stuff. Going through some things. She needs to get up to speed on stats. If I ever got the time, I could teach her, just like I did Ally.

Dad nods. "Thought so." He goes back to typing.

You know, sometimes I wish Kelly would let me do my own talking...I mean, I wasn't sure I was gonna say anything to my dad yet...but she kind of blew it.

But I guess she's right. Guess unless I want a lifetime of agony, I'm gonna have to lose 'em.

Still, I'm a little annoyed with her.

I'm annoyed with everybody right now. Even the people I love most.

Make that, especially the people I love most.

Maybe this is a good time to lose myself in Excel.
 

Luckily, the way it's set up, I think the prof did it, because it's got real good instructions.

Of course, the instructions are kind of like a scavenger hunt.

First one is, read the most current bank statement.

I have never read a fucking bank statement in my life. I get them, but I mostly just toss them in my room.

"Dad? Where do we keep the bank statements?"

He points his thumb at the safe.

I open up, and I don't see anything.

"In the black box."

I don't think I like the symbolism there.

There's about a millions statements in here...I look for ones for June.

Three of them. Shit. We got three bank accounts?

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

Reading them's not so bad...shows what's cleared, and how much money we got.

Except instruction number 2 is, compare what's on the statement with what's in the spreadsheet for the current month.

The most current month in the spreadsheets is April.

Shit. Now I got to do May as well as June. Back to the safe for the May statements.

And I have a hard time finding one for the third account. I finally do. Somebody ought to get organized around here, for Christ's sake.

I should be ready to go on to number 3...except now I have to find the checkbooks and make sure everything that got written, got entered into the spreadsheet.

This could turn out to be a very long day.

Maybe I shouldn't have bitched so much about watching kids.

END OF PART 59