DUM SPIRO, SPERO
Part 21
 

"No need to wonder anymore, sir ,
Who called this session. The distress is mine."

"The Odyssey," Fitzgerald Translation. Book 2, Lines 42-43.
Used without permission.
 

ALLY:

I watched with no small degree of envy as Kelly and Michael headed off for school.

I was supposed to be doing this as well. Instead, I'm here, at home, dealing with a recalcitrant teenager, an overly active four-year-old, and a mess that refuses to break down, regardless of how much I swing at it. I'd say that Langly woke up miserable except for the fact that he really never went to sleep. And when he doesn't sleep, I don't, either. We were both worried over Frohike, and Langly is, well, nervous about his new...occupation.

I could be, but I decide, I'm going to treat this like war and pretend it's not happening. I think that's how wives of soldiers and police officers deal with it.

What I'm really hoping is that this is just Langly's natural and deeply rooted paranoia on a rampage, and not something that has a basis in reality.

Keep telling yourself that, Allison, and sooner or later, you might believe it.

I bang on Miranda's bedroom door. This is her last week of vacation, and she is determined to sleep as late as possible for it.

"You need to watch Patrick," I remind her. I'm going to see Frohike.

"I'm going shopping with Shelby."

"So take him with you!"

"No way in hell!"

"Then don't go!"

"I'm not watching him!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No, I'm not!"

"You're watching him."

She opens the door with a harsh movement. "You are so unfair!"

"Yes, I am. And you're watching him."

"Burn in hell, Mother!"

"I am! I have a teenager!"

Yep, we're all off to a great start on this lovely Monday.
 

I'm not even sure I should do this...I've got a cold, courtesy of our camping weekend at the Bay...

Too bad for that. We had a wonderful time, and we needed it. Badly. It was the best therapy in the world.

I just don't want to pass anything to Frohike. He's probably low on the resistance front right now.

My first stop is my favorite newsdealer in Alexandria, who will still save Playboys and Penthouses for us. No, they don't stop being interested in beautiful women after they marry you...thank God. Of course they have to be furtive these days about their dealings in such sordid literature (oh, my, naked women! How horrible!). I know that Frohike had a lady guest last night, and rumor has it that it was Martha, whom he is allegedly so hot for it scorches, but he may still appreciate a two-dimensional version of a sweet young thing.

I won't stay long, and I promise not to breathe on him, I tell myself. I'd bring him something to eat if he was able, but apparently he's not taking anything by mouth yet.

I remember how he looked after his heart attack, and my own heart sinks a little. He looked so terribly ill and helpless and small. He breaks your heart, I'll say that.

Maybe Langly will get a chance to contact me and tell me where he is and what's up, and I can let him know how Frohike is doing...I hope it's good news I have to give him.

I tiptoe into his room in the event he is asleep, but he turns his head a bit when I enter. He is very pale, but I get a squint and a bit of a smile.

"Allison?" He sounds so weakened.

"That would be me."

"I thought I recognized that hair. How are you, my dear?"

"Question is, how are you, Frohike? And I'm not going to kiss you because I've got a cold, but consider yourself kissed in spirit."

"Thank you, my dear." He does clasp my hand. I remind myself that I should have washed them again before I let him do that. "I suppose by now I can count on a parade of local celebrities to encourage me in recovery." He sounds both resigned and maybe a little bit touched by it all.

"We can't help it. We worry. Okay, I worry. It's the Jewish thing, Frohike, you know that." I laugh, and he smiles, but I bet it hurts to laugh. He's supposed to have this monster incision in his stomach, and that's got to be terribly uncomfortable.   I notice that when he tries to sit up, it's as if someone is squeezing him like a boa constrictor. "We all love you, you know that."

"Thank you, my dear. How's your boy?"

"He's...well, he has a new position starting today."

He frowns. "I don't remember him saying anything about that...but then I can barely remember what day it is."

"He didn't know until Friday afternoon, and you didn't see him after that."

"That's true."

"I don't know that he's happy about it."

"Promotion?"

"I have no idea. Neither does he."

He frowns again. "In the same office, I presume?"

"Sorry, Frohike. That was the wrong answer...I'm not supposed to be spreading this around, but I know he'll tell you. He's been moved out to Langley, Virginia, and no jokes, please."

He looks very surprised. "Could you hand me my glasses, my dear? I can't see a thing, and I find it hard to have a conversation when I can't see well."

I find them on his small table and hand them to him. This makes him look less helpless, a phenomenon I notice with Langly. Taking them off makes him look very young and vulnerable; putting them on, just the opposite.

"He wasn't too happy."

"Well, he shouldn't make assumptions until he gets there."

"Well, I think one of the things making him nervous was that Scott worked there."

"His older brother."

"The none other. I think he's mystified as to what's going on, and nobody really told him anything except where to show up on Monday."

"That's not unusual for a position at Langley."

"I have to admit, it makes me a little uneasy."

Wait a minute. He's the one lying there half-dead...and I'm talking to him about what's on my mind?!

What's wrong with this picture, folks?

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Frohike."

"Are you convincing me or yourself?"

"Both, I think. So how're you feeling? By the way, I have a present for you." I hand him the brown paper bag, which he opens with his unencumbered hand.

This elicits a big smile. "Ah, you know the way to a man's heart, my dear."

"And here I thought it was my cooking."

"That, too. How was your weekend at the beach?" In the meantime, he's flipping to the centerfold.

"We had a great time. I got this cold, but that was the worst thing that happened. We all had a blast. We needed it."

"That you did. Bad summer. All the way around. In a lot of ways."

"It was hard." I think about our lost child, and it makes me wince. Hard to believe it was only a couple of months ago.

I try not to think about it.

He gives me a clear, green-eyed deep look. He's exhausted, but he still has presence of mind.

"Allison, my dear, those things Langly got from his sister? Did he ever go through them?"

"No." I shake my head. "I know he's been busy, but I think he's putting it off. I think he's nervous about doing it. And I haven't told him yet, but DC Metro police released what they had of Scott's. They're filing the case as unsolved. I haven't told him yet...I wasn't sure how he'd react to it."

"You need to tell him."

"I know. But this has been a hard time for him."

"Yes, it has. But he's not a child now, my dear. I've seen him, and he's an adult now, and he can take it. He has to."

I press my lips together. "I know he's a big boy, and he's tough. But sometimes...Frohike, sometimes he's out in the living room late at night, and I swear I hear him crying. I don't bother him-I think if he wanted to share that with me, he'd stay in bed with me. But I think he's been really stressed and it's getting to him."

"So he doesn't know that you know."

"No. He doesn't."

"Allison. I think it's important that if he's so pressed for time at the moment-and I know he is, in spite of how I hassle him-that it be gone through. You could do it."

"I don't know, Frohike. I almost feel like I'm going somewhere I shouldn't."

"Has he specifically instructed you not to look at anything?"

"No...in fact, he had me chronicle it, put it in order."

"I think you have sufficient clearance to examine it. He trusts you, my dear. And so do I."

"Frohike, you shouldn't worry about this stuff right now. You need to concentrate on getting better."

"My dear, that's all I'm doing right now."

"Michael says you had company last night."

"For a little while." I can see him looking a bit embarrassed and sheepish.

"I hope it was helpful." She's a nurse. She can actually offer practical support in this area.

He frowns a bit. "Allison...what did Michael say?"

"I don't know. He talked to Langly and Byers, not to me. I was just the secretary who answered the phone. And Langly didn't say a lot about it. We'd just gotten home and he had to take Patrick in the shower and get ready for bed, so we didn't talk a lot."

He gives me a skeptical glance. "You're sure."

"Frohike, they all talked among themselves...and Langly was out in the offices for quite a while. As I said, we spent most of the evening unpacking and showering and getting ready for today. And I wasn't feeling all that great and I tried to get to bed fairly early, although my man kept ripping the bed to shreds. He's not sleeping too well."

"Been there, done that." He winces a little.

I'll bet he's been there and done that a lot.

"It's Byers's first day of the new term, and between the house, the wedding, and work, he's sounding a little ragged around the edges."

"I think little ragged is a bit of an understatement."

"Okay, he's a wreck." I smile as I say it. But I also know it's true. Byers looks thrashed. He's lost weight, he's got a few more gray streaks in his hair and beard, and he's had a case of acne that won't quit. The only time I get acne is when I'm really getting my nerves worked...and I know he is.

"You know I had my admission rescinded," I say softly to him.

"I heard. And I'm sorry, my dear. I know you're disappointed."

"I don't think Langly is." I can't keep a nasty note from creeping into my voice.

"Now, I don't think that's true. He's very proud of you, my dear, and he knows you're bright. I think his point is twofold. One is, you don't have to beat him over the head with it. He knows. Two, he worries about the children. And with good reason, I think. These are hard times with children."

"I know that. And I was actually considering postponing a year...but I would like to have had the choice. That seems to have been taken from me."

"Sometimes it's like that."

"Sometimes it is." I look at him directly. "So Frohike. Tell us about the lady."

He looks almost shy, stammering out a reply. "She's...going to be doing some home care nursing when I'm released."

"Is she...?"

A flash of anger across those sweet, mild features. "What sort of things is my son spreading?"

"Like I said, I didn't talk to him." Well, not last night, anyway.

I don't think this is the time to relate the conversation Michael and I had last week.

"That boy. I don't know where he gets his ideas."

I do...but I'll be damned if I'm going to throw both Jo and Michael into the fire.

"I remember her being very kind."

"She is." He looks away from me, making it clear the subject is closed.

He's not in a state where I should even contemplate stepping over the line. "Langly's going to stop by after work."

"Why am I not surprised? I suspect Byers will be here, too. The Mulders have already been present a number of times, from what I've been told."

"They're just being concerned, that's all."

He looks at me sadly. "Allison, my dear...it's very hard for me to be doing this. I'm not good at being sick."

"We know that, Frohike." Yes, we remember when you had your last brush with death...and it wasn't pretty. "We're just trying to let you know we love you and we're worried."

"Thank you. My dear, if you don't mind, I'm quite tired...I think I'll sleep now. Thank you for coming by."

"Love you, Frohike." I blow him a kiss and tuck the blanket over his shoulders.

As I start my way out, he calls out softly. "Allison?"

"Yes?"

"If you see my son, tell him he is dead meat."

Ah, the love that exists between parents and children.

Don't I know it well.
 

BYERS:

This morning was nowhere near as bad as I suspected it would be.

It was far worse.

I've long ago lost count of how many people have been in my office, how many e-mails I have left to answer, how many voice mail messages are piling up in my phone-I stopped answering two hours ago, and how many problems there are to resolve, preferably by nine o'clock this morning, which was four hours ago.

And the hits keep coming.

I should have packed that fifth of Tanqueray. I could certainly use it.

I really ought not to leave, even for a short while. We have scheduling problems, room assignment problems, disputes already in full swing between faculty members, problems with textbooks being available in the bookstore, enrollment problems galore. A good number of the faculty are upset because of the sudden changes in teaching load. A class that was supposed to have 20 students now has 35-and the orders from on high are that we go ahead and enroll these students, and find another classroom. Easier said than done. Much of the day has been devoted to soothing tempers in one form or another. The technical difficulties are actually the easy part-and they're a pain in the ass.

I take a quick check of my surroundings. There are three students in the hall waiting to see me, the phone continues to trill its electronic bell, and my computer is permanently saying, you've got mail.

The three students are all PhD candidates who will be in seminar with me. I can have them wait. As for the e-mail and voice mail messages...well, they can wait as well.

I have a friend to see.

Sometimes you just have to get your priorities straight.

Actually, I do want to check and see if there has been a call from the real estate agent.

The disembodied electronic voice that 'welcomes' you to the Audix system cheerfully announces that I have 27 new messages.

Wonderful.

Callers who don't identify themselves are erased, but those who do are treated to the save function. I can later determine who really needs a callback.

Finally, on the 18th message, I get the word.

The sellers' loan has been funded, and they're ready to move on closing.

I find that a few nerves in my body unknot. I'd like to say that all of them do, but that's not the case.

Luckily for me, I have an excellent massage therapist. And she's going to be my wife in less than two months.

I like this thought very much...and at the same time, it makes me exceedingly nervous.

I can worry about that later. Time to see Frohike.

I take the back steps and I do it at a rapid pace...I feel as if I'm escaping from a maximum security prison.

Actually, the maximum security prison might be a fairly simple affair in comparison to getting out of here unseen. Getting out of the building without anyone seeing you here can be like running the gauntlet.

I'm spotted by about half a dozen students, all of whom I inform that I'm late for an appointment. This is not entirely true, but for me, it is.

And I confess: I'm dying to know about Frohike's new lady love. Enquiring minds want to know.

I'm going to have to be tactful about this, of course. I get the impression that he is not really ready to out himself on this matter.

Shouldn't be a problem. I've been here since 7, and I haven't killed anyone
yet.

As Michael would say, this will be cake.
 

Seeing Frohike as he is right now shocks me. It brings back the terror I felt when he suffered his heart attack, not quite two years ago. I remember feeling about five years old when that happened. I kept coming back to, who's going to take care of me?

Sounds pretty absurd, doesn't it?

I'm 37 years old, I head a university department, I'm an expert in government health care systems and I have more than a smattering of knowledge in military and government systems not related to health care. I'm about to become a homeowner, and I'm going to be married for the second time. Hardly the hallmarks of a child.

Yet I realize how much I count on his constant presence in my life, and how he has made up in so many ways for my own father's lack of interest in my existence.

He's been so devoted to all of us. In many instances, he's the one that does all the worrying for us.

Maybe it's time I started putting away childish things and being a little more self-sufficient emotionally.

I worry that I'll wake him, but that concern proved groundless. When I arrive, he is having a pleasant, if awkward, time staring at Miss September. Ally must have been here.

"Would help if I could sit up," he complains to me as he licks his lips. Probably as much from dryness as from lasciviousness, but it's good to see him in something resembling normal form. Normal for him, at any rate.

"Let me see." Once again, I'm the five-year-old who doesn't want to be left out.

He glares at me in a fatherly fashion. "When you end up in the hospital with a bleeding ulcer, we'll get you one, too."

"That's what it takes these days?"

"At the minimum. I thought this was first day of a new term, Byers. How the hell'd you escape without being flogged?"

"I have to go back, so flogging may still be a possibility."

"You mean, you're not going to stand here and look over me like I'm some poor pathetic soul? You'd be the first."

He must be feeling somewhat better-he's irate as hell.

"I just came to see how you were doing."

"I assumed so."

"And...I understand..." I feel myself turning bright crimson and hot here..."you had a lady come and visit you."

He lets out this really pained groan. "Does the whole goddamn planet know yet that I had a female visitor? Is this so terribly odd?"

"No, it's just...it's been..."

"It's been a while since Dee, yes. I realize that!"

"I didn't mean-"

"Byers, I've known you for a dozen years now, I know damn well what you mean. I hate to bust your bubble here, boy, but she's going to do some home care nursing after I'm released. That's all."

"Michael didn't seem to think...he seemed to be inordinately upset with the idea that she had visited."

This really lights his eyes with fury. "Between him and Langly, I'm surprised this isn't all over the Internet yet. What is so strange that a lady, who is going to be working for me, would come and see me? What's the problem here? I'm supposed to be too old for this shit?"

I really shouldn't upset him, particularly right now when he's in a fragile state. This really wasn't my intent...

And I have this horrible thought. How does he know Michael and Langly haven't posted this all over the Internet?

They would. Discretion is a selective quality in both of them. I cringe.

But I do gain some insights...this is indeed the one. I noticed he looked a little bit embarrassed when I mentioned his visitor. Frohike is really not easily embarrassed, as you may have noticed.

Anyone with that wardrobe is probably immune to embarrassment.

But I need to calm him down. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to imply..."

"Do me a favor, Byers? Should you see my darling boy, please inform him that I plan to kill him."

"I'm not going to see him until possibly very late."

"Good. The element of surprise can be a good thing."

I think it's time to head back to the office.

END OF PART 21