Probae Etsi in Segetem Sunt Deteriorem Datae Fruges, Tamen Ipsae Suaptae
Natura Enitent
 

LANGLY:

July 31, 2001

God, it is STIFLING.

I mean, usually at night, temp goes into the 80s, we get a little bit of breeze...not this morning. It's not even daylight, it's hotter than hell, and I feel like there's liquid lead on my lungs.

Yuck.

And I couldn't sleep for shit all night. Last couple days, Patrick's been having nightmares. His solution to this is to crawl into bed with me and Ally. This might be cool in the wintertime, but this is summer, kid...I stuffed him finally back in his own bed, and when I got up later (still couldn't sleep to save my life), I found him in the living room...with Miranda. She was in the rocking chair with him, and talking to him real nice...I sort of tried to make myself invisible 'cause I figured if she saw me, she'd want me to take over. Which I was not in the mood for.

She can be such a good big sister when she wants to be. Wish she'd do it a little more often. I mean, she loves him and all...but it's like, she doesn't take care of him like Joanie did me. Ally thinks it's not fair to make her do that.

Not fair? Shit, I'd have been dead if it wasn't for Joanie.

I miss Joanie so bad. Ally's got all her stuff in order.

I can't make myself go through it. It's like, I say I have too much to do-which, by the way, I do-but it's sort of an excuse, tell the truth.

I still have this dream like, I'll wake up, and Joanie'll be back in my kitchen, like she was that day before we got married, me and Ally...and everything'll be okay.

I mean, it wouldn't be the first time I had a sib come back from the dead.

But Joanie's really gone. So's Scott.

We got Scott's ashes yesterday. I got two dead sibs. I got to deal with that.

And it sucks.

Still don't have a boss. That's okay. We got plenty to do, I mean, all four of us, there's lots to do...

But it sort of gives me the creeps.

I mean, Canada as the 51st state? Give me a break.

But that's what it's looking like. And we don't dare ask anybody...like we ask anyone what the fuck's going on, we get like, you don't need to know that, or we get this glazed look. Don't know if that's because they don't want us to know, or they're just so fucking clueless themselves.

Ally's like the only person on this godforsaken planet who can sleep in this heat. I mean, really sleep. She's down for the count, she looks so damn peaceful, all that red hair flying all over the pillow, pink sunburned skin (she's careful, but she's so damn fair that sunscreen doesn't always work 100 percent magic). She seems to be thriving in this weather. Says it reminds her of LA, only more humid.

Yuck.

Me, I'm dying. I haven't put on a pair of jeans in weeks. All of us at work, we show up in our shorts, nobody says a damn word it's so hot. And yesterday, AC gave out in our area, so I ended up dipping my T-shirt in the sink and wearing it wet...we thought about offering the rest of our section a wet T-shirt contest, but man, there are so many anal people there...particularly as of late.

So we had our own. Course, nobody could agree on a winner. So we all declared ourselves the winner and thought about taking a two-hour lunch...except that would mean walking outside, and that was unbearable. So we didn't.

My roommate at William and Mary used to say, I hate the summer 'cause it's too hot to fuck.

We haven't reached that point yet...but pretty damn soon, that might happen.

I grope for my glasses. It used to be a lot easier when I wore the black-framed ones, at least I could see those. These wire-frame thingies, you can't even see 'em when they're a foot from your nose.

But hey, Ally likes 'em. Since she did help me pick 'em out a couple years back.

I notice they don't work as good as they used to, though. Probably time to change them. Maybe I'll go back to black plastic. With rhinestones. That'd be a kick.

I got to say, I've taken a lot of ribbing about the cornrows, but they're easy as hell to take care of. Shake and go. I like that part.

5:20. Shit, only got 40 minutes to go, might as well get my ass up. I'm not gonna fall back asleep in this crap.

Ally's gotten to where she puts the coffee in the night before, all I got to do is flip the switch and get in the shower. I like having her around home more. It's nice. I think it's good for the kids. I know it's good for me. And you can sort of see the floor. That's really weird, because last time I got a good look at it was when we bought the place.

And it's only like a month before she starts grad school. Shit.

She was saying last night, she might take a little more time...God, I hope so. Patrick needs her. Miranda needs her.

I need her.

What's really sick is, I need her most of all. She keeps me sane, keeps me whole. She runs the place. It's really great that I don't have to worry about keeping it together because she does it all.

Yeah, I'm a fucking Neanderthal. Shoot me.

I pass by the alcove where Patrick's still got his bed. We don't have his room ready because we don't have the photo lab all done yet...

Shit. He's not in bed.

I freak.

Where the hell is he?

Oh man. Where the fuck is he?

I start dashing to every place in the house. He's not in our room. I check. In the closet, even. Ally sort of lifts up her head like I'm some sort of demented idiot, asks me what's wrong. I tell her I can't find Patrick.

"Try Miranda's room." She falls back into the pillow, oblivious.

Sometimes that woman's complacency is unnerving.

Still, I do as she says. I mean, there's no way he'll be down there...but I'm like so freaking out...

I open the door quietly. I don't know why I bother. Miranda sleeps like her mom, which means like the dead. She doesn't even stir...

And neither does the little boy cuddled up next to her.

Jesus fuck. Who'd have thought?

Having survived my first heart attack of the day, I head for the shower.
 

Ally's up when I get out. She almost always is. It's like she knows when I'm not in bed anymore, and she comes out with me. Which is nice. She gives me a big hug when I hit the kitchen.

She's so funny when she's just gotten up. Ally's a heavy, heavy sleeper, and she always is groggy for a while, and she's got no color in her face, and she's like this little zombie. She can't talk, but she can always hug and kiss me. This is good.

She's got my Ska Fleas T-shirt on. Looks cute on her. Big, but cute. You can sort of see the bottom of her ass there.

It's way too early and way too hot for this.

Weird sky.

"Ally, you ever seen a green sky?" I mean, seriously. The sky is sea green. Kind of a nasty color green, really. Sort of like snot.

She blinks at me behind her glasses. "No." This is as much conversation as she's normally capable of at this hour.

"Well, it's green, really, take a look."

She pads real sleepy over to the window and squints out. "Shit. It's green. Weird."

Four words. We're making progress here.

"So what's going on, you think?" I'm kind of alarmed here. I'm not sure if this is bad weather...or something else.

All things considered, I'd go for the bad weather, thank you.

"Don't know." She pours two mugs of coffee. I douse mine with milk and sugar, she just splashes hers with milk. "Hope not."

Bad weather means kids in the house all day. This is hell for Patrick. And Ally.

Ally says once that she figures sitting still isn't a priority for little boys.

Priority, my ass. It's not even an objective, folks.

"Suppose we should check out CNN."

We pad off to the living room, flip on the TV, and she snuggles back against my arm.

We're about to get the world in 12 soundbites or less when we get interrupted by what I think is a Sherman tank racing at about 100 miles an hour.

No, wait, it's just Patrick.

He bounds in and jumps up so that he's trying to land between us, but he ends up crunching both sets of our knees.

Hey, I didn't need those knees, anyway.

Ally groans, but then she grabs him and he's all laughing, like he didn't keep us up half the night or anything.

I thought she didn't like him. Now, she's like totally in love with the kid.

"Let's go swimming!" He's all ready to go. Christ, I'd like some of his energy.

"Not now, sweetie," she says as she hugs him and kisses the top of his head.

Enjoy it now, Ally girl. Couple more years, he's not gonna let you do that. At least not in front of anybody.

He's gotten a dose from Ally, he then comes over and body-slams me. I get a hug, too.

Enjoy it now, Langly. Couple more years, he won't let you touch him, period.

But right now, he's four and cuddly and squirmy and laughing. I hug him hard.

He's so cool. And even better, he's really, really mine.

He's out in the sun so much that his hair, which is white anyway, is like really, really white now, and he's sort of pink. Just add sunburn to the numerous things that seem to follow the Langlys around and curse them everywhere they go.

But not anymore. It's gonna stop here. This kid's gonna have a good life. Ally and me are gonna take good care of him and make sure of it.

Don't think we can do much about the blondness, though.

I'd like to see the news, but I gotta get out of here.

I hope the AC is working in the office.
 

BYERS:

Even with the air conditioning, I can feel that the air outside is heavy and silent. The usual traffic and creature noises are muted.

Maybe it's not the weather. Maybe it's me.

I wake up feeling thick and depressed. After yesterday, who wouldn't?

Juliet is still dozing, but I can see her stir slightly.

This is the only thing this morning that reminds me that I'm alive, and that it's still very preferable to the alternative.

I'm not looking forward to this day.

For one thing, I need to get a lawyer.

I'm wishing Kat were around, that she did criminal law, and that she was a member of the Virginia bar. She would probably be somewhat appalled at my behavior of yesterday, but she would nonetheless be a great comfort, and a vigilant defender.

I think about calling her, anyway. I haven't talked to her in over two weeks. I miss her.

Kat's a good sister. Much better as a sister than I am as a brother. Kat is so not a Byers. She is warm, generous, openly affectionate. I don't know where she picked it up, but I'm grateful that the gods smiled on at least one of us. It gives me hope for breaking what seems to be an endless cycle of grief, guilt, and loneliness that so characterizes being a Byers.

On the other hand, I hardly acted within the family character yesterday. My father would never have physically assaulted another person. He simply would have done a hostile takeover of one's assets and driven them financially into the ground...

Oh no. I can feel the gears grinding in my head...

You're insane, Byers, I tell myself. No way would he help you. Not after all you've put him through. He's made it clear that he's washed his hands of you...

I promised Caroline I would continue to try with him...

But he won't listen...

But then again, he might...

No. It couldn't possibly happen.

Before I'm even aware of it, I'm in the kitchen...

And dialing my father's number.
 

It's Monday, and seeing as it's past 5:30 a.m., I know my father will be in his office.

My problem will be getting past his secretary, whom he has had for fifteen years and is positively a desk Nazi. She is well aware of the past that exists between my father and myself.

I dislike her intensely. I've only met her twice, but both times, I felt a coldness from her that made my father appear positively friendly.

I'm nervous as I dial the phone. I can feel the bile in my stomach rising to my throat.

Why am I doing this? What I'm really doing is making a bad situation worse...

"Hello?"

Oh God. My father...answered the phone himself.

He must be the only one there.

I feel the words stick in my throat.

"Hello?" The constant impatience he carries in his voice is becoming more pronounced.

"Uh, Dad? It's...John."

"Yes?" No personal acknowledgment of any sort. My heart crashes.

"Um...I...I sort of..."

"Complete sentences. I didn't spend all that money educating you so you could sound like a half-wit."

Why do I do this to myself?

"Look, Dad, I'm in trouble, and I need your help." The words come out in a loud, hard rush.

And for a moment, he's silent.

"If it's money, forget it. You have enough of your own, and if it's gone-"

"Dad, this isn't about money. I'm in trouble." I'm having trouble keeping my voice from cracking here.

"What kind of trouble?" The voice is not sympathetic.

I was an idiot for doing this.

"Legal trouble."

"What kind of legal trouble?"

I'm a business plan at this point...he's analyzing. He's ever the CEO.

I need him to be my father right now...but I'll take what I can get.

"I was...arrested for assault and battery yesterday." I can feel myself coloring as I say it. Thank God he can't see me. He always did chide me for being a blusher.

Nothing. Then a hard, cold laugh.

"You are joking, of course...and it's not very funny."

"Dad, I'm not joking, and you're right, it's not funny."

"So what do you need from me?" The voice is still showing no traces of warmth.

"I need a lawyer. I know you have...contacts."

"I do. But before I do a thing for you, John Fitzgerald Byers, you are going to relate the entire incident to me...and then I'll make my decision. Is that understood?"

"Yes." I say this in a small voice, and I feel about 10.

The last thing I wanted to do was give him details. Already too many people know. One of which is Mulder, meaning, I am completely screwed.

Well, if I'm totally screwed already, I might as well come clean. Particularly since I need my father's support in this. At least I need his resources.

"Well..." This is going to be very, very difficult. I start the coffee pot. I almost wish I smoked; a cigarette would probably be a comfort right now.

"John, I don't have all day. Talk."

The voice is brusque, impatient...but I did notice one thing.

He addressed me by my first name.

For the first time in nearly two decades, he addressed me by my given name.

I explain to him how we were at the wedding planner-

"So you're going to have a proper wedding this time? Will wonders never cease. I'm surprised you didn't just run off to city hall again...of course, perhaps this is a woman you can present in public..."

I grit my teeth. I hate his desecration of Susanne's memory.

I'm not going to take that road right now.

And how Juliet wanted some lingerie...

"And she dragged you with her? My God, you are whipped!"

I will bite my tongue until it bleeds. I swear.

And how while we were in the changing room (I skipped the part about the blow job), the store was picketed...

"For what? Overcharging on brassieres?"

I explain that there are fundamentalist groups that feel that anything even remotely suggestive of sexuality are out in force...

"Oh, those people. God, gives Republicans a terrible name."

Not that that would be difficult to do, but I don't comment. Again. I think my blood pressure is going through the roof.

Then I explain how Juliet was assaulted in the changing room...

"For what? Trying on underwear?"

He's not getting it.

"I don't know...they were attacking the sales help, trashing the store...and when this man hit Juliet...I just went...I don't know what happened..."

This was a major mistake. I'm preparing for him to hang up on me at any moment.

But he doesn't.

"Like we didn't have enough interference from government in the first place...now the morals police is going to dictate what businesses will be allowed, as opposed to the marketplace?"

I don't think my father has any moral superiority over any of these individuals, but as I said before, I'm not here for a philosophical debate.

He's silent for a moment. He then gives me the name of a law firm in DC, and the name of one of the partners, who is a personal friend of his.

I let out an audible breath. "Thank you."

Of course, he's not finished with me. "Is this how it will be? You'll call me when you want something? I guess I shouldn't expect anything else."

"I would like...you to come to our wedding."

"Really." He sounds skeptical. I would be in his position, too, I guess.

"Yes, really. Will you?"

"I'll need to check my calendar. What is the date?"

"We're not sure yet."

"Well, do you have any idea, or are you just floundering in the dark like you always do?"

Like I always do.

"I think it's going to be in October."

"This October? Not wasting any time, are we? Wait, don't tell me, you knocked the girl up already."

I am NOT going to lose it with him today. Even if it kills me.

"No. But we would...like to have a family soon."

He's silent. "I see."

"Thank you, Dad."

"Goodbye."

I'm not sure what to think right now.

END OF PART 81