"And I saw Tityos,
the son of Gaia, lying
abandoned over nine square rods of plain.
Vultures hunched above him, left and right,
Rifling his belly, stabbed into the liver,
And he could never push them off."

"The Odyssey," Fitzgerald Translation. Book 11, Lines 686-691. Used without permission.
 

MICHAEL:

So why am I still sitting here?

"So Junior, what's it gonna be?"

I'm squirming, I should just get my ass off this sofa and bail the hell out of here...but I don't.

I'm so pathetic that way.

"Hey, it's never fair, Junior. Get over it."

"This how you talk to all your 'patients'?"

He laughs. "Only the ones that need it."

"What about the one that you just threw out?"

This cracks him up. "I don't think she and I will be having any more discussions...considering she just about jumped me. I told her to get another therapist."

"Sort of like that lady Beldar gave driving lessons to in the Coneheads?"

"Yeah, like that. It's a weird job."

Probably suitable for a weird guy.

"Hey, cut your old man some slack, okay? And go back and see him. Seriously."

"All right. But Mulder?"

"Yeah?"

"He goes off on me, I want my dollar back."
 

So what do I do, being the pathetic loser fuckrag that I am?

I decide, I'll go back and see Dad.

What the hell. I've got half a tank of gas...and it even started okay this time.

The toolbox in the back seat should make me feel more secure, but somehow, it just reminds me that this piece of crap only works about fifty percent of the time.

If cars reflect their owners, then we're both pretty pathetic.

So what am I gonna say to him?

Like, sorry seems kind of weird here...sorry I dissed your girlfriend? Sorry I told her the truth?

Adultness is very strange. I mean, if this is what it is...and Mulder seems to think it is...

Which is sort of bizarre. I mean, here, I go and talk to a guy who's a fucking head case, and according to my dad, didn't have much of a relationship with his own old man...

And paid him for the advice! Damn.

Probably get what I paid for, too.

But Mulder sucks you in. I mean, he actually listens, which is why I put up with his shit.

One thing's for sure: He's not like any of the therapists I had to do time with when I was younger. I bet he's tough to take.

Bet his patients get better, too. I'm not sure why. Maybe they figure if they don't get better, they'll be seeing this guy forever, and perish the thought...so they do what he says, realize he's even crazier than they are, and cut loose.

Not sure how that is as a therapy technique, but hey, whatever works.
 

It's quiet here in the late afternoon, like not all the people coming from work are here yet to see everybody, in like another hour it's a party around here.

So this is good.

The elevators in this place are SLOW. I don't usually do elevators, they sort of weird me out, but Dad's on the fifth floor and there're like no stairs nearby.

I particularly don't like it when other people get in the elevator with me. I never know what to do. Are you supposed to like not look at them, or should you say hi, or what? It's just so weird.

And I luck out, nobody else waiting for the ground floor one.

Except at the second floor, it stops-fuck!

And who should get in but...her.

I just give her a look.

She keeps cool. "Hello, Michael." Not friendly, not unfriendly. Cool. About sixty degrees.

"Hi."

She's holding a tall container with a Coke logo on it. She must've gotten thirsty or something, and she just sips it.

"Going to see your dad?"

No, you stupid bitch, I just like hanging around here. What do you think I'm doing?

"Yeah."

"I hope you're not planning to be difficult." She doesn't look at me when she says it.

"I just wanna see him, that's all! Can't I do that? I mean, I am his kid!"

"I don't care if you're the Sultan of Brunei, if you're going to upset him, you can't go in."

Who the fuck is the Sultan of Brunei?

Oh yeah, the richest fucking dude in the world.

"And since when do you start making the rules, lady?" She's really getting on my nerves.

"Since he hired me on to care for him when he's released, and if you don't behave, that's not going to be any time soon!"

She is REALLY getting on my nerves.

"Look, I wanna go see him, and if you don't mind, I'd like to see him by myself, thank you very much!"

"That's fine." God, this lady's gonna fight me-

What'd she say?

"Michael, if you need to see him alone, just say so. I'll leave the room!"

That easy, huh? I kind of figured she'd gotten sort of territorial about him.

"All I ask is that you go easy on him. He'll tell you he's doing fine. He's not having a very easy recovery, though."

"Why's he always gotta lie to me about that stuff?" This makes me mad.

"I think that's just his way. He doesn't want you to worry."

Elevator finally stops at the fifth floor, and after waiting half of eternity for the doors to open, we step off, but we don't walk right away.

"He doesn't want me to worry? He doesn't want me to worry? What, is he out of his fucking mind?! He thinks something like this happens and I'm not supposed to worry?!"

And I thought Mulder was a head case.

She looks irritated with me. "I didn't say it was realistic, I was simply trying to explain what I think are his motivations...and if you paid attention, you'd realize that."

Oh lady, I do pay attention. And what do I get for it? Humiliation, usually.

She stops me. Stands right in front of me, and stops me.

"I think we need to talk."

"So talk."

"Not here. Let's go to the lounge."

Last thing I wanna do.

"Look, I came to see my dad, I got studying to do, I got a quiz in bio tomorrow-"

"You're taking biology."

"Yeah, I am, and it's not coming easy, and I gotta study, so let me see my dad!"

"In a little while. Come on."

Why am I putting up with people's shit today?
 

"I need to ask you some questions about...where you live."

Oh, so now's she scoping out the resources. Well, she's gonna be mighty disappointed.

"We've got an apartment off Hegal. It's a two-bedroom, it's not real big. And it's a mess."

Okay, it's not as bad right now, the prof just about disinfected the place, but it's starting to look more like Dad and me again.

"Upstairs or down?"

"Down. Near the super's office."

"Security building?"

"So they say...we have our own system." Yeah, let's see her deal with THAT. Wait till she sees the five locks on the door. That oughta scare the shit out of her. "Look, lady, I don't think you oughta do this."

She fixes her eyes on me. "In the first place, my name is not lady, it's Martha, and you'll use it. Is that understood? And I'd like to know what your reservations are about my doing the job. If you have questions about my credentials-"

"I'm not talking about your fucking degrees, I'm talking about my dad!"

"In what way?"

"I don't think you oughta be around him."

"And why would that be?"

"'Cause in case you didn't notice, he's like totally gone for you!" Stupid bitch.

"What?" She turns pink, and she chokes on her Coke.

Goody.

"My dad's like this stupid teenager since he met you, he just mopes around and acts like a 24-hour hard-on, or didn't you notice?"

She's real pink now. Almost red.

Okay, back in control. I love it.

"What do you know about my dad, anyway? I bet not much."

"No, I have to admit that's true."

"So you don't know then that he doesn't exactly have the best luck with the ladies, and if you're gonna fuck with his head, then get the hell out, and do it now."

"I figured...seeing as you exist, he'd had at least one serious relationship."

"Yeah, well, he and my mom, they got divorced when I was six. Know what it's like not to see your dad for 17 goddamn years?"

"There had to have been a reason...I get the impression he's very concerned about you. Considering you're all he talks about when he's awake."

Yeah, probably bitches about me the whole time. Tells her what an asshole I am.

Well, Dad, paybacks are a bitch, and so am I.

"Yeah, well, there's lots you don't know."

"I don't think it's appropriate for us to be having this conversation, Michael."

"What, you don't like the truth?"

"It's not that. I just think...if your father wants to tell me these things, he will. And it's not likely he'd tell his nurse anything like this...and it's indiscreet of you to be mouthing off like this."

"So you're just the nurse, huh? You really think my dad's gonna believe that?"

She's like flaming now. "Yes, I do."

"Well, then, I don't care what sort of creds you got, you're pretty damn stupid! And what're you doing here, anyway? I mean, your husband's like still warm in the ground-"

She looks real mad now. "What do you know about my husband? And how?"

"I got ways."

"Then you'd know he was seriously ill for many years. Believe me, he'd been gone a long time when I finally buried him!"

"So now you need somebody to pay off your bills, huh?"

She's like-she's short, but man, maybe I pushed her a little too far.

She doesn't yell, though. She does an Ally, madder she gets, more she whispers.

It's one of the things I can't stand about Ally.

"Listen to me, little boy."

Again...she is gonna pay for that one.

"I'm 25."

"You could've fooled me the way you've been acting. Now you listen up, and good. I'm not looking for anybody to take care of me. I need this job. I have bills to pay, yes, and I'm going to pay them the old-fashioned way, by earning the money. And you're not going to get in the way. Is that clear? If your father decides he'd rather have another nurse, then fine, he'll get one. But that's his decision, not yours. Is that understood?"

"Yes, ma'am! I suppose I should worry you got a gun."

"Actually, I do, but I wouldn't use it on you. That'd be too quick and merciful."

"Your dad taught you to shoot."

She looks real alarmed now. "How did you know that?"

"So it's true."

"Yes, it's true. My dad was a weapons instructor, and he taught me to shoot when I was four. And yes, I can hit square in the heart, though somehow I think that's your least vulnerable spot!"

Oh, that was cold, lady.

Christ, leave it to Dad to fall for a total bitch.

"I'm gonna go see my dad now."

"Fine. But you upset him, and I'll throw your lousy little ass into the street!"

Somehow, I don't doubt it.

Bitch.
 

We wander back to Dad's room. He's not looking too good.

"Mel, are you all right?"

Oh, so now it's Mel!

He winces. "Not feeling so great right now...I'll be okay."

"Hi, Dad."

"Michael, hello." He sounds like he's out of breath, and that's pretty weird, since he probably hasn't moved much.

I turn to Martha. "Think you better go."

She ignores me, she's reading his monitors. "Michael, hit the call button."

"For what?"

"Just do it!"

"No, no, it's noth-"

And Dad all of a sudden is like, his monitors go nuts.

And then everything gets crazy.
 

There's about ten thousand people in there working on my dad, and Martha and me are in the hall.

"Why can't we go in?" I whine.

"Because you'll just be in the way, and so will I."

"Thought you knew this stuff."

"I'm not on staff here, and I have to let the staff do their work."

"What happened to him?"

"I'm not sure. It looked as if he may have had another heart attack."

No...no...nooooo...

"This is all your fault!" I scream at her.

Unfortunately, she's a nurse, she's used to people screaming at her, and she stays cool.

"Michael. Focus. The goal here is that your father gets well. Now quit wasting your breath and energy, and focus on it!"

She stares, hard.

"I mean it, little boy. This isn't going to help him. Now do you want to help him or not? The choice is yours. If you don't, get the hell out of here, and do it fast."

Oh Christ. He's gotta get well. I need him...he can't die on me...

"Is he gonna be all right?" I hate myself for this. I sound like a scared little kid.

Which right now is exactly what I am.

Everybody starts piling out, but they're dragging my dad with him. "Where're you going?" I'm just about screaming here. I got like no control right now.

"He's going to surgery."

"He just had surgery!" They ignore me, and I start like I'm gonna bolt after him, but Martha grabs my shirt and holds me back.

I feel my chest get tight again, and my breath is like short, and I'm totally drowning here...

She puts her hands on my shoulders. "Calm. Breathe slowly. Very slowly. Good. Come on, let's sit down."

Seeing as I'm having a hard time breathing, forget protesting, I follow her back in Dad's room.

She does what my mom used to do to get the junk out of my lungs. I have to admit, I feel a little better. At least I'm not choking after a while.

"Your father said you've had problems with asthma. He's been worried."

"He's always worried. Melvin Frohike, worrywart."

"He's a father. That's his job."

"Well, he drives me crazy."

"That's his job, too. I can't tell you how my father used to drive me crazy. He still does, actually."

"He's alive still?"

"Very much. Retired. Watches the cooking shows and gardens."

"My dad likes those things."

Do I see her smile a little?

"My dad's favorite is Emeril. What about yours?"

She's trying to sucker me in...and I let her.

"He likes Emeril, but I think Julia Child's his favorite." I think. Christ, I'm not even sure these days. "He thinks Justin Powers is a pain in the ass, but he likes the food."

"So he can cook."

"He's a good cook."

"I think he's a good father, too."

"He tries. Might help if he didn't have such a lousy kid."

She laughs. "No argument there."

Thanks a lot, lady.

"Tell me about yourself, Michael. I know what your father's told me...now give me your version."

"What, is this a chance to salvage my image here?"

"Oh, he says lots of good things about you."

"I just bet."

"He does."

"Like what?"

She thinks about this. Ha. Got her...

"Well, he's very proud of your grades...and he says you work very hard...and that you're very good to your girlfriend, although he worries about you two a lot...and you're good with children, and you've always loved animals, and that you're a very affectionate child, although I have to say, I'm having trouble with the last one right now."

He said that?!

"He's happy that you're getting along better with your mother. And he says you're getting to be more responsible."

She's gotta be making this up. Doesn't she?

"Never says this stuff to me. All he says is, what're you gonna pick for your major, and where're you gonna do upper division, and don't get your girlfriend in trouble-" I wince on that one-"and where's your article, and did you pick up groceries, and when are you gonna fix your car, and, and, and..."

She laughs. "Sounds like my dad. Except the thing that really upset my dad was that I got married right out of high school...and he was never happy about it. In fact, when I told him that Daniel...finally slipped away...he was like, I told you something like this would happen."

"That seems pretty cold."

"No, that's my dad's way of saying that he worries about me. I'm 43, and he still worries about me."

"So when do they stop?"

"Never."

"Yeah, well, he keeps worrying, he's gonna die..."

I can feel my eyes welling up. No, this is not gonna happen here...not in front of HER...no...no...no...

"Are you all right, Michael?" Her voice is quiet.

I should just lie and say yeah, I'm great.

"No, I'm not! My dad's so sick and it's like...it's like..."

"Like you really need him?"

"Yeah."

"And it's scary to think about losing him."

Oh please, don't say this shit, I'm gonna break...

I walk away from her. I don't want her seeing me.

"Michael. It's fine to be scared. It IS scary."

"How about you? Don't you ever get scared?"

"All the time." She's turning bright pink again.

Gotcha. Even when I'm like this, I can still appreciate a well-placed coup.

"Hey Martha...what do you think about my dad?"

I got her on the spot. Goody. She's like fidgeting and turning bright red...

I think that tells me what I need to know.

"Well, you better be real good to him, y'know."

"I intend...to take the best professional care of him."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"What did you mean, then?" She's playing stupid here.

"You like him, don't you?" I got her. She's like really, really blushing...

But now, instead of feeling like I squeezed in a victory, I feel sort of sick.

"He's a...very nice man, Michael."

"Well, like, you're not gonna be good to him, the way he wants you to, you better not hang around. I'm not gonna see someone fuck up my dad's life. He gets too emotional."

She nods. She doesn't say anything.

"Michael...I don't think this is any of your business."

"Wrong answer. I live with him. He's my dad. It's my business, all right."

"And you love him."

"Yeah."

"Well, Michael, know what? I do, too."

END OF PART 25