Inter Vivos
 

LANGLY:

I should be looking over the junk that's about to make my backpack explode...but hell, I'd rather sit here and drink with Ally.

It's hotter than hell. In a few weeks, though, we'll get some relief. We're getting a swimming pool. Junior stuck the idea in Ally's head, and now it won't come unstuck.

Hey, she could get hooked on worse things.

I'm kind of glad I was around to talk to the contractor, I sort of get the feeling that he would've tried to rip Ally off. I mean, she's not stupid about things, but she's like not real worried about money, and she tends to be like, whatever.

I'm not. I worry about it.

One of us has to. I mean, she's so sweet, and since she's out to get nobody, she thinks nobody's out to get her. Still. After all this.

I like this about her. She never stops being sweet. Well, okay, she can be a cold bitch sometimes...but only if like she's real hurt or real upset.

She looks tired tonight, but she's not being cold or bitchy.

In fact, she looks sort of smug...I'm not sure why.

She fires up a Marlboro Light, and I take one for myself-I don't know why, it's not like we need more heat, but it does go down nice with a Corona and lime.

"Did you get your brother taken care of?" She asks real softly.

"Yeah. Got Joanie's stuff, too."

"Oh, wow. What'd she have in there?"

"Ton of stuff. I don't even know what half of it is."

"Want me to go through it? Organize it?"

Might not be a bad idea..."Sure. Everything's like all scrambled up. Maybe if she can put it in some sort of order, then I could deal with it.

I think this is why I wanted her to take some time off in the first place. To get my life in order.

I start to get up, but she motions me back into the chair. "No, sit. It'll still be there when we're ready. I just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know. I just want you here right now."

"Any particular reason why?"

She gives me this wicked little smile. "Yeah, we have half an hour. I bribed Miranda to look after Patrick for half an hour so we could maybe drink a beer in peace."

"And how much did this cost?"

"Hey, I got this one for free...I think. She didn't hit on me for anything...yet."

"You couldn't have negotiated for an hour?"

She laughs, and it's so good to hear her laugh. It's music. Sounds like wind chimes.

"I'm not pushing my luck, Langly...I'd like to see him live to be five."

It's a damn nice half hour.
 

FROHIKE:

It's just a normal dinner. In our normal Chinese restaurant. We do this at least a couple times a month. It's just going to be a normal evening.

No, it's not. I can feel it coming.

But what? That's the mystery.

I just pray...no, it can't be.

It's not that I could say I'm not attracted to Jo...she is an attractive woman, well-preserved in her mid-50s.

But I value her friendship far too much to tamper with it. And I fear that is what she will want to discuss.

I think about pleading off. My ulcer is bothering me, but this is nothing unusual. Lately, it's ever present and annoying. In fact, it's getting beyond annoying. It's become a downright inconvenience.

And I've got too damn much to do to deal with it right now. So I live on crackers and milk and wash it down with J&B and hope for a few hours of peace from it.

I check the e-mail again at home. Still nothing from Leslie.

Damn, I wish that girl would write and say something. Anything would do. Just acknowledge that I am alive.

And in my effort to do the right thing, once again, I appear to have screwed up my life.

I can't stop thinking about her.

Martha. My phone sex operator.

I can just imagine the response that would get should I announce it in the offices...no, I don't think I want to.

I wonder how she is. I wonder if she's having problems on her regular job because of the incidents of the other night...if she had to tell her husband, and how he would take it...

What I really need to do is find out a few things about Ms. Martha Small. I don't usually like the neutral pronoun-it's ugly-but I can't bear to think of her as Mrs. Anyone.

Except maybe Mrs. Frohike...God, do not even go there, Melvin.

That will have to wait. I need to meet Jo.

I find myself saying a quick Hail Mary on the way out.

God help me.
 

She arrives before me, as is usual, and she's got our table. The help knows us. We always sit in the same place, order the same thing...

There is comfort in that sameness. The idea that it could be rocked is distressing to me.

I am not a person who cares greatly for change. I like steadiness in my life. I like order. I like systems.

So you ask, what the hell am I doing what I do, and why?

I touch her hand lightly, like I always do, and she returns the gesture.

All right. So far so good. She hasn't attempted anything more aggressive. I momentarily relax.

But not when I see the look on her face. It's a face fraught with worry. Even on Jo's composed features, fear and concern are obvious.

Oh God no. She's going to say it.

"How was your day?" She asks, as if this was a normal night.

She's trying to ease me into it...

"It was all right," I tell her. Well, it wasn't terrible until about an hour ago..."And yours?"

She looks down at her hands. "I've had better, Melvin."

Oh dear, here it comes...

"I don't know if I told you, but I had a mammogram done about two weeks ago. Nothing out of the ordinary, just part of the standard annual exam..."

The concept of which has always made me grateful I am not a woman...

"And I had some...abnormal results."

I suddenly realize that once again, I have horribly, selfishly miscalculated the situation...

I had no appetite to begin with. The soup arrives, but I can't touch it...

"What...kind of abnormal results?"

"I don't know yet." She shakes her head. "I have a large series of microcalcifications in the left breast...to have a few at my age is not unusual, but I could tell that there was a whole network of them..." She looks up for a moment. "It might not be anything, but it does look suspicious...and I'm going to have to have a surgical biopsy to get a definitive diagnosis. We tried a needle biopsy this afternoon. Nothing."

"Is that good or bad?" All the while I'm cringing over the thought of this procedure.

"Bad. Fluid presence indicates that it's probably cystic activity...dry means, it could very well be something else."

"But possibly not."

"I hope not. But I won't know until they do some frozen sections. See if there is any abnormal cell growth."

These three words make me go numb. 'Abnormal cell growth' is a medical term for cancer, any way you say it...

Not Jo. She doesn't deserve this.

"What can I do for you?" I ask automatically.

She looks down again, which is very un-Jo like. She normally looks people in the eye when she speaks with them, and I'm no exception.

"What you can do for me, Melvin...the surgical biopsy is a day surgery. I need someone to go with me. And I need someone there who will be calm, and rational, and nonjudgmental. Someone who is my friend."

I sink back in my chair with a relief I did not expect.

"I'll be there," I promise. And I will. I may have to rearrange my a number of things, but be there I will.

"And I need you to pray for me. I know it's not something you do, Melvin, and I respect your beliefs...but this is for me. It would do a great deal for me if you would do that. Just one time is all I ask."

One time in a church is a small favor for a good friend. And right now, I could use a god...

Don't let her be ill. Please. Let this come out as nothing...as a false alarm...

She didn't even have to ask...I'm doing it already.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't pass this information along to anybody...at least not until I have a definitive diagnosis. I haven't even told my brother, and I don't intend to until I know for sure what is going on. That includes Michael. He worries terribly. And he's so young, and he doesn't need any additional worries."

"I can do that." Being silent is a habit.

"Thank you. Melvin, I am very frightened." She says this as if she's talking about the weather, but her eyes betray her. The blue Irish eyes, normally calm and intelligent, are strained and red around the edges.

Was she crying earlier?

I won't ask. If she wishes to confide any details in me, she will.

All this time, thinking it was something else...I am so selfish. And so shallow.

I notice now that our food has grown cold.
 

"Would you like to come back and maybe watch an old movie?" I ask her. It's something we enjoy doing together.

She shakes her head. "I need to go home and just be alone for a while. Work this over in my head. I'm sure I will be ready for that movie soon." She smiles a little. "Melvin, you're the only person who knows about this, and as I said, I'd like to keep it that way for the time being."

I nod. I will do that for her. She has asked for so little.

"Thank you for being my friend." She takes my hand, just as she always does, and then lets go.

I watch silently as she ventures into the night.

I think it's time to go home and get cozy with my good pals J&B.
 

MICHAEL:

Kelly and me get something to eat...being out in the ocean air, we were starving.

She is so pretty. When we left the beach, she pulled the clip out of her hair and shook it down...I don't know why, but watching her do that, it really turned me on.

I love her so much.

I'd like to promise her a lot more than I did.

But I can't do that right now. Or could I? What's wrong with me?

I mean, I want to...but I'm not ready to...but will I ever be ready to...and when...and how do you know...

Jesus fuck. My brain is swimming.

I mean, I know I'm old enough...I'm 25, I know lots of people my age take the plunge...

But I sort of get the feeling that I'm pretty young for 25. Don't know why, but I do.

Kelly and me hang for a while, we watch "Murdercycles" with Miranda and Shelby...it's such a horrible movie, it's great. One of those low budget cheesy horror flicks you love to make fun of...and can never see enough of.

She starts nodding off on my shoulder, and I walk her downstairs...I guess Langly and Ally are here, but they're out on their deck, they have like this balcony off their bedroom and they like to sit out there at night, drinking and talking...

I'd like to get Kelly a house someday...

Fuck, I can't even afford an apartment on my own right now!

I tuck her in bed...she's so tired. And so cute. She's got my Chazz Cats T-shirt, and it looks a lot cuter on her than it does on me. Grey undies. Cotton. Kelly's into basics.

I'd like to be crawling in next to her...

But there is the issue of Dad.

I'd better get home.
 

I get home, and Dad's in his chair, sitting with his usual J&B. He doesn't look too happy.

What the fuck did I do NOW?

I ask him what's up, he says, not much. He's definitely not in a talkative mood. He asks me how the funeral was. What do you say? I tell him it was long, and I'm glad it's over.

He asks me how Kelly took it. I shake my head. It was hard for her.

And that was all he wrote.

I'm pretty beat, and I'm thinking, I'm gonna crash. I got stuff to do tomorrow. I've been pretty much either out of it or babysitting this week, and then there was the gig today...I need to get some work done. So if I get up early, Kelly and me can have fun later, which would be nice.

It's late, and the phone rings...oh fuck. Who died NOW? Or got sick? Or had a car accident? Or some other fucking tragedy that can't wait till morning?

"H'lo," I don't think I could sound a whole lot less interested if I tried, and Dad's not even moving.

"Michael? Is that you?"

It's my mother. Great. Just who I needed to talk to at this hour. I grab the cordless and walk towards my room. I was lucky this time. It was on top of a stack of newspapers.

"Hi, Mom."

"Haven't heard from you, baby. How are you?"

"I'm okay. Had my wisdom teeth out Monday."

"How did it go?"

"Not bad. I'm surviving. Still look ugly, though."

"Baby, you were never ugly."

Uh-huh. Sure.

"You need something, Mom? I'm kind of tired here..."

"Just wondering how you were...how is Kelly?"

"Kelly's...okay. Been kind of a bad day for her. We had to go to a funeral for her old boss. It kinda sucked."

"Michael..." I can hear it coming. "Watch your mouth."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't much fun."

"I'm sure it wasn't...but I'm sure she'll be all right. She seems like such a nice girl."

"Yeah, she's great." Really don't want to go into a discussion about this right now...

"I'm sure when the time comes, you two will settle down...not right now, of course, but you'll know it when you're ready..."

"Mom?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Mom...can I come up and see you?"

Did I just say that?

"Of course, baby. When?"

"Like tomorrow?"

"Well...I have to work during the day...but if you don't mind waiting till about 7:30, then I have Sunday and Monday off...of course you can come."

"Okay. I'll be there tomorrow night."

"Are you all right, baby?"

"Yeah...I think I just need to get away..."

"I'll see you then. G'night."

"Night, Mom."

I can't believe that was me...and that I feel like I need to go see my mom.
 

I go back out to the living room. Dad's refilled his glass, two more fingers of that elephant piss he drinks. He's like in this trance...what the hell is going on with him?

"Dad." I call him softly first.

No answer.

"Dad!" I'm louder this time. He jerks up.

"What is it?"

"Dad, I'm gonna go up and spend a couple days with Mom...tomorrow...you mind?"

He shakes his head. "No...you should see your mother...when are you coming back?"

"Monday."

"That's fine."

"Dad, did you hear me?"

"Yes, you said you were going to go see your mother, and you'd be back Monday!"

God, he is tetchy.

I decide, time to hit the sack. I'm gonna have to do some stuff on the 'Stang to get it to Jersey.

"Michael." Dad calls out to me.

"Yeah?" I hope he's not all of a sudden in the mood for conversation...because I sure as hell am not.

"Do me a favor when you're up in Jersey?"

"What's that?"

"If you get a chance...try and talk to Leslie..."

"We'll see."

"Michael..."

This is getting real old...

"I love you, son."

"You too, Dad."

Time to call it a day.
 

END OF PART 75