"But they were all to sail, he said, that summer,
or the first days of fall-hulls laden deep
with treasure, manned by crews of heroes."

"The Odyssey," Fitzgerald Translation, Book 16, Lines 448-50.
Used without permission.
 

MICHAEL:

August 19, 2001

One week left till fall semester starts. I have no idea what I'm taking. I've been talking to everybody about it.

All I get is more confused.

And I got to pick soon, or everything's going to be closed up. I should probably do it today. Only problem is, I got a million other things to do. Like we have a September issue to get out, and the summer ones were pretty thin, so we figure, lots of features in September. Keep the readership happy.

It's not like we got a lack of material. Au contraire. (Ally taught me that one. She's gotten heavy back into reading languages again. I think she needs it to keep from Patrick driving her insane). We've got so much stuff, and all of it such a jumble, that it's hard to make sense of it all.

Dad's working for Ms. Russell today, so I need to do some stuff for him. One thing I have to do is pick up some photos for him. He and Jo went to this fancy-dress ball about ten days ago. Jo wanted to get out and wear something black and sexy before she got her breast lopped off. They had some formal portraits done, and Dad wants them, since they're ready.

I hope they did a lot more of Jo than Dad. I mean, Dad's cool and all-well, okay, he's really not cool. I love him so much, but cool? Sorry, not my dad.

And he rags on me about my hair! This is amazing. He's got-can you believe this-a ponytail, for God's sake! Only it's not a real one like Langly's got. Miranda cut mine a few weeks back, but it grows out real fast. And she put some highlights in it, which I didn't want but when she did them, I thought they were cool, and he's like, for some reason, he's got a thing about me dying my hair!

He rags on me about school, about picking a major (everybody does that, but somehow, it's worse when it comes from Dad), about work at the magazine, about work this fall (I'm signed up to tutor 25 hours a week. I'm going to die. I just know it), about my car (it's hard to keep it going, but I can't afford another one right now-not too often someone sells you a car for a buck, which is what Langly did a while back), about my girlfriend. Especially about my girlfriend.

I made the mistake of telling him that Kelly wants to get married. I really needed somebody to talk to, and I thought, maybe he ought to know.

Wrong! He went ballistic.

I mean, Jesus, I'm not gonna do it now! I just wanted to talk to him about it, and he went seven ways crazy. He was getting better about me staying over with Kelly sometimes, particularly after her mom and sister got killed, but now he's like, if I'm not home at a reasonable hour, he's sitting up, waiting for me, and I get the Spanish inquisition when I walk in the house.

I've come to one conclusion about Dad: He needs to have sex. Preferably with another person. Preferably a person of the female persuasion.

I know, that's really weird. It's hard to imagine your parents having sex. But like my mom is engaged to this doctor she worked with a real long time, and I went up and saw them last weekend, and it was really kind of cool. Weird, but cool. They moved into this condo, the doc sold his house, doesn't want to take care of the yard and stuff anymore, and he wanted a place he didn't live with his wife. So he and my mom bought this really nice townhouse in Ramsey, which is a nice place if you have the bucks (he does), and they moved in, and they said I could come anytime.

Last weekend was the weekend after Jo had surgery, and we didn't have her path results yet, and I was losing my mind. So I called my mom and asked if Kelly and me could come up, and she and Carl were like, sure. Carl's pretty okay. He's got kids of his own, even older than Les and me. I'm kind of glad none of them were there, though. Don't think I'm ready for stepbrothers and sisters in the flesh. And he's got three kids. Two of 'em are docs like him.

So I'm kind of like getting used to the idea that my mom has sex with a guy who's not my dad. And she actually let Kelly and me stay in the same room, which was really, really bizarre-used to be, no way would she let that happen. But she's doing it, they're not married yet, so I guess she might figure there's no way she can say no. And she likes Kelly. A lot. We told her and Carl we planned to get married when we finish our undergrad degrees. I think that made her happy. Happy that we weren't doing it now, but that we'd do it later, and she could have Kelly for a daughter-in-law, which she wants. They listened to us and they were like, hey, you'll be old enough. Only thing they insist is that we at least finish the bachelor degree thing, which we said (only about a hundred times) that we were gonna do.

Dad was a different story.

He goes off on me, totally. Like what am I doing with a girl six years younger than me (hey, five years and ten months, dude, if you wanna get picky!), and what am I doing talking about getting married when I have no money and no working car and have no idea what I'm doing when I get out of school-hell, I don't even know where I'm gonna do upper division yet, for that matter-and am I crazy and I'm too young and too immature and what if I move away and blah blah blah...trying to tell him we're not gonna do it till we graduate doesn't seem to move him.

Least I didn't tell him what Kelly told me the night of Ally's birthday when we were alone in the kitchen.

I really wanted to talk about it with him. But I think if I did, I'd give him another heart attack. Which, if he doesn't calm down soon, he's gonna have, and it's scaring the hell out of me. You can tell his blood pressure's through the roof these days. Jo worries about it, even out loud.

Which is so ironic. Jo is waiting to find out if they got all her cancer, and she worries about my dad's blood pressure. She thinks he's not taking his meds, or they're not doing the right thing for him.

It's funny. Right now, of everybody I know, Jo has the most serious problem, but she's the calmest person to talk to. So I do talk to her.

And I did tell her what Kelly said, after I made her swear that she'd never breathe a word of it to my dad.

Jo kind of put it in perspective. She says, a lot of times, when people are confronted with death, they need to have something that affirms life for them. And she says, nothing affirms life like new life. So to her, it seems like a logical thing.

For me, it's anything but. I have to admit, it freaked me. And it still freaks me.

I mean, I've thought about me and Kelly as parents. And I think someday, we will be. But I think Kelly's talking about kids now, and that's not gonna work. Not if I have anything to say about it.

She hasn't brought it up again, but I think she still thinks about it. As long as she just thinks about it, that's fine. And besides, right now, I'm in charge of pregnancy prevention, anyway.

Which is a problem. The condom supply is running perilously low. I've taken to lifting them wherever I can. Like I babysat last week one day for the Mulderettes. Mulder got another migraine, and this time he had the brains to just go to bed and sleep it off, instead of trying to kill it with meds. After what happened last time, he's not taking any chances, and I think Dr. Scully pretty much cleared EVERYTHING related to pain relief out of their house.

Fortunately for me, he went to sleep in his office. And I found a box of condoms on Dr. Scully's night table. I helped myself to a few.

The prof is the one with a real stash. You can tell I'd sunk to desperation when I asked him if I could have some. He blushed real red, but next day, he brought me a (brown paper bag, unmarked) with about twenty of them. And he blushed even harder when he handed me the bag. Dad was there, and for some reason, we all have this idea Dad has X-ray vision when it comes to this sort of thing. The way he acts, you'd think so.

All summer long, well, at least for part of it, Dad was like this total space cadet. Now he's like a rat on crack. I think I liked him better when he was a space cadet. He bitches about EVERYTHING. Like the other night, Langly comes out in the offices after work, and he's got Patrick with him because Ally's at the market and Miranda's out with her girlfriends, terrorizing the local teenage male population. Now Patrick's not the best-behaved kid on the planet, but Ally and Langly, they try. I notice they're starting to lower the hammer a bit with him, which is real weird, because they're not much in the discipline department, but I think they figure if they don't, they're gonna have a monster on their hands. Hey, look at Langly. See what a lack of discipline can do for a guy...

So I mean, Patrick's just gotten out of the pool with Langly, so he's a little more mellow, and my dad just jumps all over Langly that he's wasting time and we have a ton of work to do and Langly's like, look, I just wanted to see my kid for a little while, give me a break. He sets Patrick up at one of the computers-you know how some kids get addicted to TV? Patrick's addicted to computers. I think it's genetic. And Patrick's happy for a while, but then he gets kind of restless, and I tell him, come over with me for a while. And my Dad goes nuts. He's like I'll do anything to get out of work and Patrick doesn't need to be entertained and I should get my shit together and Langly should discipline the kid better.

I'm surprised Langly didn't deck him, right then and there. I did notice he gave him the finger, though. And after he put Patrick to bed, he didn't talk to my dad the rest of the night. Or the next night. When Langly wants to sulk, nobody does it better.

And the prof, he is like so slammed right now, and I'm doing what I can to cover him. The prof is back on his day job, fall classes start next week, and he's got a ton of stuff to do before the semester kicks off. And he and J just bought a house. Deal went through, and they were going for 30-day escrow, but now the sellers are like having problems with their deal, and they want longer escrow, and the prof is like no fucking way, we had a deal, and he's moving into that house on September 14, just like he and J planned, and they better get their act together. Lots of yelling on the phone. I mean, it takes a LOT to get the prof to yell, but this week, he's exercising his vocal cords. Plus, he and Juliet are getting married on October 18. They've got meetings with the wedding planner, and meetings with the priest, and it's a mess. They got their invites, and the printer fucked up, and so now they're like rushing to get new invites made. I'm in the wedding party. He asked me to be one of the ushers, which was nice of him. Langly's the best man, because he was Langly's, and my dad's an usher, too. Byers asked him if he wanted to be the best man, and my dad said no, you should let Langly do it because you did it for him, but I think he's kind of bummed out over that. I don't know why. But I think he is. Mulder's the other usher. God help us. Byers says to Dad that his job is to make sure Mulder behaves. I think I heard Dad groan. Loudly.

So I'm trying to help the prof out a lot. And he's like been grateful. But it's like my dad has no patience at all. And he says I damn better have everything pulled together by the time school starts on Monday.

Aargh.

Kelly's finishing her full-time gig off at Dr. Scully's lab, she's gonna do part time when classes start. She learned a lot in Dr. Scully's lab. She also learned not to be scared of Dr. Scully. She was sort of nervous about working with her at first, because Dr. Scully expects a lot, but turns out Dr. Scully has been real good to Kelly, particularly since she lost family. Dr. Scully knows about losing family. But Dr. Scully is also like, they have tons of work to do, and she pushes the staff real hard, and I keep wondering how Kelly and me are gonna see each other when classes start.

So last night, me and Langly got real fed up with Dad, and we just went out to Mitch's and shot pool and drank. And drank. And drank. I'm not sure how we made it home. With no damage to Langly's Corolla.

I'm paying for that this morning. I'm not used to drinking so much anymore, and my head is killing me. And not only that, Langly slaughtered me at pool. I owe him $150 bucks I don't have right now. Langly'd probably let it go right now, but I don't welsh on a bet.

And asking Dad to cover me for losing money to Langly? Ha ha.

Too absurd to even contemplate.

Plus then I'd have to admit to my dad that I lost. And right now, I can live without the humiliation.

Photo place is in Annandale. Not too far a drive, and luckily, Ally's been real nice about letting me use her car. She's cool that way. She knows that I've been spending a lot of time trying to keep Kelly's alive, and I barely have time to do my own, and she also hinted she knows what a bastard my dad's been. Yesterday he came in to get coffee, and she was smoking and reading the paper, and Patrick was yapping at her, and he gave her a lecture about not smoking around the kidlets. I mean, she shouldn't. But she's 46 years old, and she doesn't need to be lectured at. She just kind of suggested to him that she thought the lack of porn sites on the web was getting to him. He was royally pissed.

Funny, I was thinking the same thing. Only if I say it, I'll probably get smacked in the mouth. I might be 25 years old, but my dad has still been known, when stressed, to raise his hand to me.

Swear to God, he does it again, I'm gonna take him down. No way is he gonna get away with bitch-slapping me ever again. Not that he's done it a lot. I think he's only done it twice.

That's enough. Third time will be a charm. But not for him.

I fucking hate Annandale. There is no fucking place to park. Langly offered to change my endorsements so I could handicap park, but I feel sort of funny about that. And my dad would kill me, and him. So I cruise around until this lady with a Volvo pulls out, almost sideswiping me in the process.

Great. All I need right now is to have a car accident. Explaining it to Ally would be no big deal. She knows shit happens and she would be like, we'll deal with it.

On the other hand, if I had to tell Dad I messed up her car, even if it wasn't my fault, I would be permanently fucked. Particularly right now.

What in the fuck is wrong with him? I mean, he's not the easiest guy to live with anyway, but he's normally a nice guy. He's decent. And he's not much of a screamer.

All that's changed. If there was a total bastard sweepstakes, he'd win, hands down.

I'm tired of him being like this. If I could afford to move out right now, I would. If this is what my life is going to be like till I finish my bachelor's, then it's gonna be one mighty long haul.

I look at the photos. Jo looks awesome. My dad? He looks like the Penguin in Batman.

Jo is home recovering, I think, from surgery. She was gonna take a week off. That means she'll probably go back to work Wednesday or Thursday.

She lives out in Fairfax, which really isn't that far, although Jo's place is like way off the beaten track and is sort of hard to find. She likes it like that. Gives her privacy. Says it's real quiet and she can think. And keeps people from finding her. That was real important when Joan, Langly's big sis, was living with her.

I think losing Joan was real hard for Langly. He lost his brother, too, but that was different. He didn't know Scott real well. Never had the chance. And I think in a way he was still kind of pissed at Scott. But also, Scott gave him Patrick. And that seems to cover up a lot of sins for Langly. With Joan, well, he just misses her. He's been kind of on the quiet side for a while now. I know I'm not supposed to be snooping, but sometimes late at night, if I'm still working, I'll see him and Ally, just snuggling up in the hot tub, and she's murmuring stuff to him I can't hear, but it doesn't all sound sexual.

I was getting ready to leave one night, and I came in the house to go down and see Kelly in the dungeon, and I swear I heard him crying in the living room.

I didn't bug him. He wouldn't have appreciated that.

I told Dad I'd bring the pics to him...but I think Jo should see them first. She's off, she's waiting for her results (which I hope is good news), and unlike some people, she's been totally cool to me.

I decide I'm gonna go see her. I could use a friendly face right now.
 

ALLY:

I check my e-mail. Hoping for one from Ellen Sternberg.

Is she pissed at me? I don't think so. But when I try to reach her, I get nothing.

I'm tempted to ask Mulder to check out what's going on with her. But he's getting his practice going, and caring for the kids, and he's got a full plate. I'm not going to bother him because I'm probably overreacting and being a hysterical wreck.

No e-mail from Ellen...but I do get one from Dana. She needs a model. I still do some statistical model-building for her, and she says, this one is very strange...and she doesn't want to e-mail me the data. She says she will send home a zip disk with Kelly, and I should look at it carefully. She also says if I have any questions, I should contact her at home, because she's feeling poorly and plans to work from home the rest of the day.

Okay, so it's work time. This is fine. I need to keep my brain busy.

Not that Patrick doesn't do that. He does. He is a...shall we say, stimulating child. Very bright, very energetic, and full of his uncle's charm. But the other things that go with staying home and taking care of kids is not very uplifting. Cleaning, marketing, errands...hate it all.

But school begins in two weeks, and I'm stoked. I'm looking forward to going back. The only kink in this is that I still don't have child care for Patrick, and so far, nothing is panning out. I won't send him to a church-affiliated child care. Not simply for spiritually related reasons-Langly and I have decided that he will be raised in the Jewish tradition-but for practical ones. The hours are limited. This is not nursery school for mothers who have outside interests. And they generally expect you to be available to help out at least two days a month. Which I may or may not be able to do.

I've interviewed a few private providers, but most of them are so full up that it's impossible to get a placement. And when they meet Patrick...well, Patrick is sweet, and like I said, he oozes Langly's charm, but he is definitely a high-maintenance child.

I suppose I could take him to classes with me-I took classes when Miranda was little and I schlepped her along-but Patrick doesn't behave as well as she did. I don't really see this as an option. I could ask Mulder, since he works out of his home, but he's busy with his own children, and driving up to Silver Springs, Maryland, every morning? I'd have to add at least an hour to my commute in either direction.

I suppose it will work itself out. It usually does. Even if the solution is not what you expected.

Nothing is what I expected. I've been here almost three years, and it's been three years that have turned my life on its side and inside out.

Am I sorry? No. My life is replete with intense happiness. Great terror, painful sorrow, but joy as I have never experienced. I never expected to fall in love again after I lost my first husband, much less than with the amazing intensity and joy that accompanies loving Ringo Patrick Langly. I love him so much, it brings tears to my eyes sometimes.

He is an incredible man. Childlike, brilliant, moody, tender, sarcastic, caring, irritating, and great in the sack. Not that you needed to know that, but he is. So there. Go ahead, be jealous.

"Wanna go in the water, Mommy," Patrick tugs on my skirt. Yes, he calls me that. More and more. And I don't correct him.

If he thinks I'm his mommy, that's fine. I feel like it. I certainly do the work.

"No. I have to work," I tell him, ruffling his white hair. Langly had that hair when he was a little boy. Patrick would have to be a clone to look any more like him.

"No, not now!" He complains.

"Yes. Now." I grit my teeth.

"No, don't wanna!" He is nothing if not persistent.

Gee, wonder where he got that from!

"Patrick. Get your Legos. Find something to do. I have to work."

"No you don't!"

"Yes. I. Do." Dealing with this child is a lot like dealing with Langly. Except that at four, he doesn't have the ability to deal with delayed gratification.

Not that Langly is a master at it particularly. On the other hand, he shares his office with three people, so it's not as if he can call me up any time the urge strikes and we can go ahead and have phone sex.

"Mommy, I wanna go swimming!"

"No."

"Yes."

"No. No. And no. Which part of no didn't you understand?"

Granted, I don't have all the data I need, but I'd like to do some theoretical frameworks so that when I do get the data, I'll have at least a frame of reference for plugging it into. Even if none of them work, I've at least started somewhere.

"I wanna go in the water."

"I heard you, Patrick. Not now."

"'S'hot out!"

This is true. Over seven weeks of temps over one hundred degrees. I don't mind. I just get tired of hearing everyone around me bitch about it. Bunch of wimps. Gets a little warm, they all get crabby.

"Patrick. Go and play. Go play on your computer." Langly set him up his own computer, to which Patrick is showing a genetic predisposition to obsession with.

He contemplates this with the deep intensity that only a four-year-old can demonstrate-for about 10 seconds. Then he's like, "Okay!" And scurries off at about 240 miles an hour.

If I could take that little guy's energy, bottle it and sell it, my mother's fortune would look paltry by comparison.

Having succeeded in having Patrick distracted for a while, I check to see if the mail has arrived, which it has. It's the usual pile of junk mail, Visa bill, Bell Atlantic, and something from Catholic University, where I will be attending classes in two weeks.

I open that one first. Might as well save the bad news (bills) for later.

I should've opened the bills first. Those I know will be bad.

I blink at this, not certain I'm reading it right. I have reading glasses (yep, middle aged eyes caught up with me this past year), and I grab for them to make certain I read this correctly.

This can't be right.

'Dear Mrs. Langly: Your acceptance to the graduate program in Biomathematics at Catholic University has hereby been rescinded effective this date, August 15, 2001. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause you. Very truly yours, Fr. Brian Tollehy, SJ, President."

This is weird. I was accepted into this program back in May. I received a conditional acceptance in September of last year, and having met the conditions of my acceptance, had it finalized in May. I have the letter. I don't think I misread it.

The letter is in the safe in the bedroom. I never remember the combination, but I do have it written and stashed in my underwear drawer.

It's buried under a ton of stuff from Joan and Scott. Langly has got to go through this stuff. He says he's too busy, but there will never be a time when he isn't. I think the idea of doing it is just too painful for him right now. But I think we need to do it soon.

I read it again. "Dear Mrs. Langly: Congratulations on your acceptance into the graduate program in Biomathematics at Catholic University. Please respond to this invitation no later than June 25, 2001..." Attached to my acceptance letter is a copy of the letter I responded to them in the affirmative. I'm assuming the letter was received, because I've gotten numerous correspondences since then, all of them referencing my program.

This is not only very bizarre.

I feel as if somebody just kicked me in the guts. Hard.

Again.

END OF PART 1