"There, as the whirlpool drank the tide, a billow
tossed me, and I sprang for the great fig tree,
catching on like a bat under a bough."

"The Odyssey," Fitzgerald Translation. Book 12, Lines 551-553.
Used without permission.
 

MELVIN (Heavy Drugs)

What the hell happened...where am I?

The last thing I clearly remember, I was eating a slice of the Italian Scallion...and I felt my guts clench up...worse than usual...

Maybe I'm dead and I don't realize it yet.

My son is here, though. What the hell is he doing here? He should be home fixing his car so he can get to school.

Well, if he doesn't, he's back to the bus system. I can't help him there.

My whole body hurts like hell...no, I can't be dead. If I were dead, I wouldn't be in this much pain. Would I?

I can't move. Every miniscule act lights a blast furnace of pain in my guts.

And my chest. Did I have another heart attack? I've got a terrible sore throat. There's something in my nose.

I must be dreaming. I could have sworn I saw Dana Scully. In a jeans skirt and a tank top. Now that would be heaven.

Voices. Jo's voice. It sounds like she's talking to the kids...Kelly is here...I get no privacy...

I need my own angel of mercy right now. Everyone else get out of my head and let her come to me.

Because she'll only come to me in my dreams. Let me have them. At least right now...
 

LANGLY:

God, this is so great here. I love the shoreline. I love camping.

See, this is what I like about Ally not working. If she was working, no way could she say, why don't we go camping, just like that, and we wouldn't be out here having this great time.

Well, we will be. Soon as she gets back with more beer and some food and some sunblock. Figures we'd forget the sunblock. It's always out by the pool, we forgot to grab it when we left, and it wasn't much in the way of daylight last night when we got here, so we didn't even think about it.

We'd better. Ally's and my first, well, intimate encounter ended in the emergency room with me having heat exhaustion and both of us with second-degree burns all over most of us. We've still got the scars.

Ah, but getting that burn was so awesome.

I like the kids being here and all, they're like so different out here. Even the girls treat me like I'm some sort of civilized human instead of a pain in the ass. Only problem is, it makes taking Ally down in the sand for some really awesome beach sex more difficult.

But it's not like we didn't make the effort last night.

Patrick's whining, we won't let him go in the water till we get the block, and he can't take his shirt off, and I tell him, look, I got to keep mine on, you do the same. He doesn't buy it.

Kids never do.

The girls, who are lucky enough not to have skin with no pigment in it, have gone off on a land-sharking expedition, so it's not like they can keep him happy. I'm here with him, and he's pissed off and he's not being quiet about it.

Sometimes I wonder if Ally's got the harder job. Me, I just see him at night...she's got to keep him going all day. Or the other way around.

No, we can't hit the water yet...

But there's a lot of sand on this beach. Good building material.

Time to put those architectural skills from Legos to work.
 

MICHAEL:

Jo's taken off, says she's gonna find someone to help Dad out, and I bet I know who she calls.

She does that, I'm gonna be pissed. I mean, I know Jo's sick and all, and I shouldn't get pissed at her, but I am, anyway.

Dr. Scully says she'll come back tomorrow for a little while, that I should let my dad sleep, and I should try to get some things done instead of just hanging here.

God, he looks so bad. It's freaking me out.

"Maybe we should go, Michael," Kelly says it real quiet. "He really needs the rest."

I'm scared to go. I keep thinking, long as I stay with him, I know he's alive, but if I leave, I don't know...

"Good. Idea." I hear a croak from the bed.

"Dad. You're awake."

"How could...I not be...all this jabbering going on...you should be...fixing your car."

Christ, give him good drugs, lots of good drugs, and he still hassles me!

"I just got here little while ago!"

"Good. Go home. Work."

"Dad, like you just had surgery, you damn near died last night, you expect me just to drop it all and go home and do stuff like it's a normal day or something?" This is like so weird.

"Yeah." He's barely awake.

"You freaked me out, Dad! And you want me to go home! What's wrong with this picture?"

"Go. Home. Or. I'll smack. The shit out. Of you."

Kelly touches my arm. "You heard the man, Michael. I don't think he wants company right now."

"Yeah but-"

"Out. Now." Dad's having a hard time talking, he really needs not to speak...

Okay, okay, okay! I'm going!

This is what I get for appreciation?!
 

ALLY:

"Jesus Christ, Langly, they rob you here!"

"Whaddya want, it's a resort town, they've got you by the short and curlies."

I'm marveling at the eighth wonder of the world, which is being constructed by Langly and Patrick. It's a castle of some sort...I think. Whatever it is, it's pretty amazing.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Langly beams in the same fashion Patrick does. They have the same beautiful smile.

You have to wonder how much genetics plays into shaping one. Patrick has many of the same gestures and speech patterns as Langly...and he had them when we first acquired him. He hadn't ever met Langly, and Langly was completely oblivious to the existence of his young nephew.

"I'm amazed." And I am. The ancient Greeks didn't do better with the Parthenon. The structure carries the same details that I've seen in Langly's drawings.

"Did you ever sculpt?" I ask him, opening up the container of Bullfrog-can you believe, 12 dollars in the nearest town! I pay 8 at the Rite Aid and think I'm being ripped off.

"Nope."

"I'm impressed. Maybe you should show off some of your work."

"Nope. Not gonna do that. That's private, Ally. Wish you wouldn't talk about it with anyone."

"I don't. I'm saying it to you, because it is good."

"Yeah, well, I'm not comfortable showing it off. I only gave Byers Susanne 'cause I knew he'd like it."

"You going to do one of Juliet?"

"Both of 'em. Wedding present...or is that like too tacky?"

"Langly, what makes you think that would be tacky? I think it's lovely."

"Well, you never know...it's not like it costs much or anything...might make someone wonder if I'm too cheap to go buy something..."

"Langly, since when did you start worrying what anyone thought of you?" I say it mildly.

He shrugs. "I dunno. Since I met you, I guess."

"Really."

"Well, it was like it didn't used to matter, I figured nobody gave a fuck, so I didn't. Now it's like...I dunno. It's like, people are sort of like depending on me for stuff, so I guess I have to...does that make sense?" He hasn't looked up yet; he's been busily shaping a column. "Hey, Patrick, get another bucket of water, would ya, dude?"

"Okay!" He grabs the sand pail and races down to the shoreline where he proceeds to fill, and empty, the container approximately twenty times before deciding he's got just the right water for construction. He always does this. I giggle and shake my head as I light up a smoke.

"What's so funny?" Langly asks as he smooths a panel out. Sandcastling is not an activity, it's an art form for these guys.

"Any time you send him to get water, he empties out and refills about 20 or 30 times."

"Just making sure he gets it right. Used to do the same thing."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, you don't want shells and fish and seaweed and crap in your mortar, now, do you?"

"No, I guess not. But I think it's time to put some of this crap on you. Your arms and nose are pink."

"Hate that stuff. It's too damn sticky."

"That's so it doesn't come off, and you don't have to reapply it ten times a day."

"Yeah, guess that does require you to remember."

"Which you don't. Come on. Off with it." He pulls the T-shirt over his head, and I start the slather.

Bullfrog is rather disgusting, but it doesn't require constant replenishing. While this is its only advantage, I do consider it a rather significant one, particularly with Patrick. Patrick balks at my applying sunblock, protesting that his daddy does that.

Well, sweetie, it'd be pretty hard for your dad to do it now.

I tell Langly to pull the ponytail up so I can get his neck-I've made the mistake of not getting it, and he has objections to being called a redneck-and the upper back. He's got great skin. Very soft and smooth. He winces when I hit a certain spot.

"That hurt?"

"Getting harder to sleep on the ground than it used to."

"It's not the sleeping on the ground, babe, it's the getting up that's hard."

"That, too. Oh, man, do that again. Yessss." I must've hit a spot that needs work, and not mauled it.

"You're not as knotted up today." People carry tension in different places. He carries it in his back. I carry it in my feet, of all places. I have no idea why, beyond gravity.

"Yeah, well, therapy works. Little to the right. Yeah, that works."

I'm working to get all the exposed skin; I'm always amazed from my own experience what will burn if you don't coat it. Unlike Patrick, he seems to be eating this up.

"Okay, you're good for the next six hours or so." I finish the last of his toes. Yes, toes burn! And it hurts, people.

"Hey, Ally? Next time, get the stuff you gotta put on every hour, okay?"
 

MICHAEL:

Kelly and me are working on my car, trying to get it alive again. It's not cooperating real well.

I am not in the mood for this shit.

"I should be with my dad," I snarl, smacking down a wrench. I'm tired, my car is being a pain, my dad's half-dead...Christ.

"Michael, he wants to be alone."

I mean, Kelly's right. He doesn't like people around when he's hurting. I can't figure that one out. I mean, I'm sick, I want everyone around to take care of me and tell me I'm gonna be okay. And my dad knows it, because if he's got to leave me even for a little while and I'm in bad shape, he always asks someone else to stay with me.

"We'll go back and see him in a few hours. Maybe he'll feel better by then."

"Hope so. You see how bad he looked?" Scared the shit out of me.

She hands me a screwdriver. "Michael, when you had surgery, you looked just as bad."

"Thanks, Kel, I needed that."

"It's a shock to the system, Michael. Like being thrown off a cliff."

"Suppose if you put it in those terms, it's probably amazing he's doing as well as he is."

"Everyone seems to be taking good care of him. Jo'll make sure of that."

"Yeah, but why does he like keep kicking us out?" I'm hurt, and more than a little mad about it.

"Just the way he is, I guess." Kelly doesn't have a better explanation.

Like I do.

"I hope Jo finds somebody he's comfortable with to take care of him when he's home," Kelly says softly, handing me a ratchet.

"Gonna be hard. Dad's not good with that." I should do it...but I know if I don't go to school, he'll fucking kill me. And Jo's like, don't even go there.

"What about your mom?"

I look at her like she's crazy. "Kel, she's engaged, for Christ's sake!"

"I think she'd do it."

"She probably would." And I think she would, and I even think Carl'd be cool with it. But that's not fair. She's finally kind of happy. And when she's happy, she's a lot easier to deal with.

"What about Leslie?"

"C'mon, Kel, you've met Les...not exactly Florence Nightingale, wouldn't you say?"

"Well, no, but she is his daughter."

"Kel, Les is the last person you want around when you're feeling bad...trust me, I know this from experience. She's scary. Can't believe she wants to be a family counselor. Anybody comes to her, they'll scream and run."

"Maybe they'll decide anything is better than seeing her."

"Exactly. Hand me the socket wrench, would you, and a 3/8?" Kelly's good. She's learning tools pretty well. God knows we spend enough time with them considering the cars we got.

"What're you thinking about for upper division, where you want to go?" Kelly asks.

"I dunno. Where're you thinking?"

"That's why I asked you."

"Thought you wanted to go to JH."

"For medical school. But I can't go there for upper division."

"So where d'you think you wanna go?"

"Well...I'm probably going to have to stay in-state. My scholarship money isn't going to last very long if I go out."

"That's good, my dad doesn't have enough for anything fancy, that's for sure, and I sure as hell don't."

"VPI, maybe." Virginia Polytechnic Institute. "UVA. Those are the ones I'm looking at most."

"UVA's in Richmond."

"It's only ninety miles."

"With our cars? Might as well be over the ocean, Kel."

"I need to look into some additional scholarship money...Dr. Shalad...before she died...she and Dr. Bergman were trying to help me get more money..."

"I'm sorry, Kel. I know you miss her."

"And my mom. And Tracy."

She looks so sad.

I'm bummed, to be sure, but I got one thing going for me.

Dad is still alive and breathing, and bitching at all of us.

This actually gives me comfort.

Don't ask.
 

We have a little bit of victory, the 'Stang finally runs. Not great, but it's workable.

Course, as long as I got Ally's Neon, we'll go with that. I'll have to take up with the 'Stang again soon enough.

"You ready?" I ask her. I really wanna see how my dad's doing.

"Almost. I thought I'd bring some of my catalogs, since he's probably still really sleepy," Kelly says.

"Fine, whatever."

"Let me get my backpack and feed the kitties."

"I'll feed the kitties." I don't mind. The cats are cool. With cats, you open the can, you rule the world.

I could stand to rule at least a little tiny bit of the world right now. I feel so damn helpless, and I'm not liking it much.

Gimme some power, over anything.
 

MARTHA:

This has been a long and terrible week.

But I've had a strange sense of peace as well.

Daniel is no longer suffering. And I was spared having to make a terrible decision regarding the end of his life. I returned from shift on Tuesday morning to find the paramedics at my home. He'd passed on, and according to the private duty nurse on that night (there have been so many I cannot even recall all their names, and their faces blur into one another).

Looking at it now, I'm not certain I would have had the courage to go through with my plan to end his suffering. I am grateful that I didn't have to.

I flushed all of the accoutrements that Gizzie so lovingly gathered for me down the toilet. There were probably a lot of drugged rats in the sewers that night.

We buried him yesterday, after a brief, private service. I wept, as much from relief and release as from grief. I've been grieving for a long time now. I've done my mourning times ten.

I still miss him, though. He is not in the world anymore, and everything has changed.

I have a great deal to do. I need some extra time in the coming weeks for this.

One, I need to file for bankruptcy. While I consider this repugnant, there is no way that I can resolve my debt load on my salary in my lifetime. I know it's not my fault, yet I feel like such a failure.

Daniel's social security and military benefits need to be taken care of as well. And I could use some sleep. I haven't had a full night's sleep since he became ill in 1993.

After eight years, it's caught up with me.

I'd been sleeping since the funeral service yesterday when my phone rang.

No, it won't be him. He won't call. But maybe...my heart skips a little bit at the possibility of this.

I feel a letdown, irrationally strong, when the voice at the end of the line belongs to a woman.

It's Joanna Gilfillan. I try not to let my disappointment show. She has been wonderfully helpful to me. She's probably calling with condolences.

And she is, but it's what she says after the condolences that really makes my heart stop...

END OF PART 16