Quare Cum Te Iam Amplius Excrucies? Quin Tu Animum Offirmas Atque Istinc
Teque Reducis Et Dis Invitis Desinis Esse Miser?
 

FROHIKE:

August 6, 2001
 

Today we bury Kelly's mother and sister. Another day, another funeral.

I ache for my son. He has been to far too many funerals in his young life. Many of them this summer.

I pray this will be the last, but I have a feeling in my guts that that will not be so.

My guts are knotted for another reason.

Jan is coming.

And she is not coming alone.

Michael says she has met someone.

I am grateful he called his mother...and grateful that not only did she agree to come, she did so readily. I'm pleased that they are getting on better. I think Kelly's loss of her own mother threw more cold water in his face in one short sharp shock than I did by flinging continual droplets in his direction.

He's made a real effort to talk to her, to come to terms with her, and she's responded. I think this is important. She is, after all, still his mother, regardless of what history lies between them.

And she has a sincere affection for Kelly. I'm surprised in this regard. I always figured that no one would be good enough for her son, but she seems to feel Kelly is a good pick for him. I suspect that this is a healing bridge for both of them, his relationship with her.

I'm still not so sure. There are so many difficulties in both their lives, and they're still so terribly young.

And the idea of Jan with another man...I'm glad, of course. It's been over for us for a very long time now, and there is, and never was, any chance of reconciliation.

It still bothers me, though. And I'm not sure that Michael is all that thrilled about it, at least judging from the tone he used when he mentioned that she was with someone, and she was bringing him. I suspect that, like me, this makes him feel awkward.

I wonder what he looks like. I wonder if he's tall.

Well, they don't come much shorter than me, at least in the male variety. Better than even chance that he's taller than me.

I don't think that his mother's love life is much of a focus at this point, however. That may change after the funeral, but I think there will be far too much for him to deal with for quite some time to have a free moment to worry about what his mother is doing in bed with a new man.

Why is this bothering me so much? Jan and I are like strangers. We have been for a long time.

But I was married to her once. She is the mother of my children. That part of history can't be erased.

They will be here soon. The funeral will be held at 5:00. Kelly felt it best that people didn't have to take off a full day off work.

I was hoping it would be cooler late in the day, but no such good luck. The heat wave continues, making attention spans short and tempers even shorter.

Particularly when you have four people staying in an apartment designed for, at most, two people.

Not that Juliet and Byers are not gracious guests. Quite the contrary. And I'm glad I can help them.

But ever since Byers's cleaning frenzy, I've not been able to find a goddamn thing in this place. Yes, it was the Black Hole of Calcutta before-but I knew where every postage stamp, paper clip and microchip was located in the mess.

Now, I'm utterly lost.

At least he left the video collection alone. Besides, it was alphabetized already.

And it's hard to get peace and quiet-not to mention downloads-when your son inhabits the sofa at night. Plus, I can hear action in the waterbed.

Which drives me crazy.

I need her.

I'm such a fool.

I can't believe how stupid I was. I actually went and left her a message that there had been a death in the family. I have no idea why.

Why should she even care? I'm probably a nuisance to her. She has so many troubles in her life. Why should I come around and compound them?

Because you want her, Frohike. You look at her with lust in your heart.

Sitting here in the dark, watching old movies on TV, hanging with my old buddies J&B, I think only one thing.

How wonderful it would be to be sitting here in the dark, watching old movies on TV, and hanging with my old buddies J&B...with her by my side.

Needless to say, my ulcer is having a field day. And the other day, I could've sworn I had chest pains. My breath was so short...I was hyperventilating.

All because I was thinking about calling her. I needed an excuse.

The closest one I got was the death of my son's girlfriend's mother and sister.

This is like being 16 all over again. And I'm not even as good-looking as I was then...which, by the way, is not saying much. I was butt-ugly at 16. Short, chunky, with a hideous case of acne. I still have the scars. Unlike Langly and Michael, the blessings of Accutane were not mine to have.

Get dressed, Frohike. Jan will be here soon, with her new man. And she's not likely to be thrilled to see you hanging around in your shorts. True, she's seen me that way, and with even less than that. But that was another time, another place.

She is a stranger now. And needs to be regarded and treated as one.

Still no word from Leslie. I'm beginning to wonder if my daughter will ever forgive me.

Perhaps not.

It's not what I hoped for. But it is what I deserve.
 

Fortunately, I'm decent by the time Michael and Kelly walk in. Michael still needs to dress for the funeral.

Kelly is clad in a black skirt and a black T-shirt and a black hat, which I think Jo bought for her. She has been very pale and quiet the last few days. She was over here last night, and I did not force Michael to send her home. They spent the night on the sofa, huddled around each other.

Right now, she is drawing breath from Michael. This is a dangerous time.  She needs him terribly. I hope he will not mistake it for something it's not.

And he allows her to let him breathe for her. He offers himself willingly, throwing himself like a sacrifice on the pyre of love.

I should know. I'm the same way. Exactly.

"Kelly, how are you?" I ask, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. I do not want her to misinterpret any gestures I might make. I'm fond of the child, to be sure...but I know of her experiences.

"I'm...okay." Her voice is halting, soft. None of the usual Kelly bossiness and forthrightness I've become accustomed to. Normally, she calls the shots in the relationship. She is the first voice. But right now, she is letting Michael take over.

And if you think I was worried before, well, you should see my ulcer now.

Michael goes to change clothes. He will be clad in what he always wears to funerals. I think he should invest in a suit, but he feels that if he does, he will just be giving the gods consent to fuck with him even harder.

I would have to consent to this little superstition myself. I don't force the issue anymore. He pays respect to the dead with kindness in his heart. What more can you ask?

He comes out, clad in the baggy white shirt and black jeans he always wears to honor the dead and care for the living. I'll overlook the sandals for now-it is over 100 degrees, with humidity topping 98 percent.

A summer in hell. That's exactly what it's been.

"Uh, Dad?" He looks at me. His hand is curled around something.

"Yes?"

"Um, well, Jo, she got me this tie...but I don't remember how to put it on...you think you can help me?"

I realize that I've only shown him once how to do this. I can do it again.

At least one male ritual I can share with him and instruct him on.

He looks so tired. He's too young to look this exhausted. And it worries me that he looks this way so much of the time.

I once again reveal the mysteries of the Windsor knot to him. He's awkward the first time, but he does get it looking passable on the second. I smooth it out for him. I expect him to flinch, but I'm actually rewarded with a sweet little smile.

"Thanks."

Kelly runs her thumb over the gray, black and white piece of silk now dangling from his neck. "I like it."

Michael smiles at me shyly. "Jerry Garcia. Jo thought I should get it."

I'm not sure, but I thought I saw a little glimmer of tears in those green eyes.

Jo's surgery is eight days away. She says not to speak or think of it until the time comes...there is life in between now and then.

And death.

The kids have been with her a great deal since the death of Kelly's family. I don't know what they have discussed, but it seems to provide comfort to them.

And I still promised Jo a night on the town. And I'll keep that promise. Friday night, and we'll be dancing.

I hope I can relish the evening the way Jo will most likely do. Kelly and Michael have seen her dress. They say it's stunning.

"You look really nice, Michael," Kelly says gently to him, almost shyly.

He does. Miranda has trimmed the shaggy hair-no, I don't care for the red effects she put in it, but they're at least not gaudy-and when he's shaven, he has the face of an angel. The hard surly lines have left his face, replaced with a sweet smile that was always there, just well-hidden.

I just wish he wasn't so tired. His beautiful, long-lashed eyes are constantly rimmed with red. And I catch him yawning more than he thinks I do.

And all the swimming he's done in recent months, well, what can I say? The kid's buff.

"Thanks." He looks a little embarrassed, but pleased nonetheless.

I love him so much.

A knock at the door, and I feel my guts clench. Fortunately, Michael opens it.

It's Jan and her paramour.

"Hi, Mom," he actually gives her a quick hug, which says a lot for Michael. He and Jan were never affectionate with one another.

Maybe he's discovered how fragile things are. How fragile we are. How quickly life can be seized out from under you.

I think he's determined to not let it catch him unaware.

It will, of course. It always does. But some of the wisdom of the ages lives in those green eyes now. Hard won. I almost wish he could remain innocent forever.

"Mel, how are you?" Jan shakes my hand, warmly. She doesn't move to embrace me. I think I prefer this. "This is Carl Tinley."

"A pleasure," I say, although I'm not sure this is the case.

"Carl's chief resident of radiology on staff," she explains.

Well, at least she's moving up in the world.

He's taller than me-but not by much. And balding. He looks to be at least in his late sixties.

I feel a little better. I'm not up against Mr. Universe. It's irrational, to be sure. But it's reassuring to know that she took up with someone who is short, chunky, old, and doesn't have all of his hair.

And he's pleasant. Actually more comfortable to talk to than Jan, at least for me. I can tell Michael still feels a bit awkward about the situation. I think this is the first time he's met him. At least he minds his manners, and he introduces Kelly. Dr. Tinley-Carl, as he insists-offers his condolences to Kelly, and immediately distracts her by stating that Jan has informed him of her premed status. This perks her up a little.

Jan comes over to me as I head for the kitchen. "Mel. Let's take a short walk." It's not a request.

As a lamb to the slaughter, I follow.
 

"When...did you take up with Carl? If you don't mind me asking."

She smiles. "I don't mind, Mel. We've known each other for about fifteen years. Last year, he lost his wife to breast cancer...and we've always been friends. It just seemed that the time came, and we started seeing each other."

"You look happy."

"I am."

I'm glad for her. I truly am. I think for Jan, this is a wonderful break. She's had so few of them.

She deserves this one.

Still, I cringe, when I hear that he lost his wife to the very disease that Jo is fighting. And knowing Jo, fighting with all her might.

Jo may be quiet, but she will not go down quietly.

"He looks...quite a bit older than you."

She smiles. "Now that will get you points, Mel. He's 62, actually, so not that much older. And at our age, what does it matter?"

What does it matter, indeed?

Martha is...43.

My God. I realize she's younger than Langly's wife.

But as Jan says, what does it matter at our age?

"Mel," she says, still smiling, and looking younger than I remember her since before we had children, "who is it?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on, Mel, I was your wife! I lived with you for ten years. I do know something about you!" She's laughing as she says it, but I cringe inside.

"What do you mean, who is it?"

"Mel, it's obvious. You're in love!" She throws back her dark hair, now heavily salted with gray, and laughs with a mirth I haven't heard since we were young and in love ourselves.

"I am not."

"Mel, fess up. I know that look in your eyes." Her voice is teasing, young-girlish.

"How would you know?"

"Because once upon a time, I was the recipient of that look." She says this without bitterness, maybe for the first time. Her voice softens a little, and so does her expression. "Who is it, Mel? You can tell me. God knows I've kept enough secrets in my life." She grimaces as she says it.

"Well...it's a...she's a nurse."

That brings a smile and a laugh. "Life is ironic, isn't it? Almost as if coming full circle."

"And she's short, and well-built, and she's got freckles, just like you."

"Ah, so maybe you did think I was pretty."

"Jan, I always thought you were pretty." And I did. Even when she got hard. Even when she got angry. Even when she turned my children against me.

I still thought she was pretty.

I still think she is.

She flashes me the smile that won me so many years back. "Thank you, Mel. It's nice to hear that."

"It's true." And it is. Jan is still a good-looking woman. At least to my mind's eye, she is.

"Will she be coming today?"

"No." I do not want to tell Jan that she is married. Jan will not look kindly upon this detail. "She...is working."

"I know how that works," Jan nods. "Nursing, long shifts. I'm getting pretty old for it."

"You're not old, Jan."

"Same as you, Mel. 56." She laughs. "57 in November."

She's two weeks younger than I am.

A far cry from the ten years younger Dee was. Or the 13 that Martha is...

Frohike, don't go there.

"Michael says you're doing a lot of consulting."

"Have been." I could do more, but I don't think I could take it. "Michael's schooling is about to get a lot more costly."

"You know, I should probably try and help you with that," she says.

"No. You had to do Leslie on your own. I think I should pay for Michael. I think it's the least I can do for him. And for you."

"Well, don't be afraid to ask...I'm not rich, but I'll do what I can. He is my son, too."

"I know." Michael would be horrified to hear it, but a lot of Jan's brain lives in him.

Maybe not so much these days. Perhaps he now understands he is the product of two imperfect people, in an imperfect world, trying to do the best they can.

"He's come a long way, Mel.   You've done well with him."

Well, I'm not so sure about that...but I have tried. "He's a good boy."

"I'm just so glad he's in school...though he really needs to settle down and figure out what he wants to do with his life. Particularly since he's thinking about getting married in the not-too-distant future."

I just about fall over and lose my breath. "He said that?"

"He and I talked about it when he came up to see me." I must have a strange look on my face. "What? Why should this strike you as unusual, Mel? Surely he's mentioned it to you."

"No. He hasn't."

"I'm surprised...he's certainly reaching the age. And he's definitely thinking about it."

"He has to finish school first."

"He knows that. Of course, he needs to figure out how he's going to finish, and where, or you'll be paying tuition for him when he's 35."

"No way in hell," I growl. And I'm annoyed.

Michael told his mother about this...but not me. Why?

I admit. I'm hurt as hell.

"I just don't think he should even be considering it at this point in his life," I say firmly. "He has no money, no career prospects, and no clear direction."

"He does love her, Mel."

"So he thinks."

"No. He does. I'm convinced of it."

"Well, he should forget about it for now."

"I don't think that's going to happen."

"Jan, I hope you're not encouraging him in this."

She laughs again. "Mel, I've been telling him for ages, he needs to get his act together...but why should I discourage him? He loves her. He needs her. And she needs him. That much is obvious. He could do a lot worse, you know. She's bright, she's ambitious, and she loves him."

"She's only 19."

"And what of it? Lots of girls are married at 19. And I'm sure she would want to wait until she at least finishes her undergraduate degree."

"What if she doesn't get into medical school?"

"Mel, I've watched her. She has the balls, believe me. And the brains. And the determination. The fact that she's not catatonic in a corner somewhere right now speaks volumes for her character."

"That's because she's been totally leaning on Michael."

"And she should be! He should be strong enough. And he is. Give him a little credit, Mel. He was on his own at a time in his life when no child should be...and that was my fault..."

"I think maybe miscommunication on both sides."

"Maybe. If I had to do it over...tell me, Mel, if you had to do it again, would you do it differently?"

Honestly? I don't know. There are certainly parts of the story I would like to change...

But all you need to do is wrinkle time in one tiny spot, and like a pebble in a lake, the ripples fan out forever, until they are barely discernible, but there nonetheless.

"I'm...sorry I caused you so much pain, Jan."

"Well, I am too...but I'm sorry for what I put you through as well."

I blink, disbelieving.

"I was so wrong, Mel. I always believed, you get one chance, you blow it, it's over. But lately...I've been seeing that maybe as long as we're not six feet underground, we can get another chance. And another. And another."

Perhaps. I'm not so sure.

"And speaking of another chance, I have a message from Leslie."

My ears prick up...and I feel the acid in my stomach churning.

"She says...she's sorry. She says she's been too ashamed to write you back...she'd like another chance, Mel."

"All she has to do is say the word."

She smiles. "I was wrong, you know. I should never have kept you from the kids. I've seen how much better Michael is-"

"No point in moaning over what can't be undone."

"You're right about that. But I think with Leslie, it can be undone...be patient with her. She's had it hard. And I confess, I'm still uncomfortable with her...lifestyle."

"It's not something you choose, Jan. Anymore than we choose to be what we are."

"So they say. I've...read some of the literature...perhaps it wasn't in the way she was raised...or wasn't raised...I don't know. I can't say I approve, and I can't say I'm comfortable with it...but she is my daughter. I don't want to grow old alone, Mel. And I'm not getting any younger. Being with Carl...began to put a lot of things in perspective."

"I'm happy for you, Jan. Truly, I am."

And I am. Yet I ache as well.

She smiles at me, the smile I fell for a million years ago. "Mel, whoever this woman is, don't give up. It will happen. Maybe not overnight...but I think you deserve another chance."

"I don't know about that."

"Whether you deserve it or not, it doesn't matter. You're alive. You're not that old. And you shouldn't grow old alone, either. I think you're due some happiness. I really do."

My ex-wife. We stand in the late afternoon soon, sweat drenching our faces.

"Jan...do you think we could ever be friends?"

"I don't know. Then again, what are we this afternoon? What would you call it?"

What would you call it, indeed?

END OF PART 90