DUM SPIRO, SPERO
Part 33
 

"But tell me this now, make it clear to me:
You must be, by your looks, Odysseus's boy?"

"The Odyssey," Fitzgerald Translation. Book 1, Lines 250-251. Used without permission.
 

BYERS:

My father intended to come visit me the following morning...but apparently there was some sort of emergency at one of their plants in Malaysia, forcing him to cancel.

I should have anticipated this. I should have known that the last thing he wants to do is deal with a son that he considers to be, well, wimpy.

It also once again establishes my position in the food chain. Not that I had suspected it had changed much, but I did hope...

I might as well get over it, and get over it now. He is not going to change. And his feelings towards me are not going to change.

I'm utterly depressed, and seeing Frohike tonight didn't help my spirits any. He was in a horrible frame of mind, and seeing as I was there, he took it out on me.

I was really wishing Martha was there; she seems to have a calming influence on him, and tonight, he could have used that. And so could I.

I'm lying with my head in Juliet's lap, and she strokes my hair and my face.

"You have beautiful hair, you know," she says gently.

"If I do, it's my mother's gift." It is. My mother had lovely auburn hair. She was really a very pleasant person...it seems so long that she's been part of my life.

Was she ever, really? I spent most of my younger years in boarding school. I only saw her on holidays and vacations...but she was always good to me. Reserved, but caring and kind. At least what I saw of her. I'm told I resemble her. If I do, this is indeed good news...she was a beautiful woman. Kind blue eyes, freckles, gentle smile.

Juliet is so different-looking with her dark, deep eyes, dark sleek hair, and olive complexion, but there is something in the calmness, the steadiness, that reminds me of my mother. I'd like to see what a Freudian would make of that. Or what Mulder would make of it. His theory might be a lot more entertaining.

It's late, past ten. We've been through an 'X-Files' rerun and a rerun of 'Millenium,' neither of which we paid a great deal of attention to, although Juliet swore that the one character in the X-Files episode looked a lot like me.

Sheer coincidence.

We're now ignoring the ten o'clock news. If we're this exciting before the wedding, can you imagine how we'll be afterwards?

"I'm sorry about your dad, John," Juliet says in a soft voice, wrapping her arms tenderly about me and pulling me to her breast. I listen to her heartbeat, measure her breathing.

"I shouldn't have expected anything else," I say, resignedly.

"I'm sure he'll come when he's able," she tries to reassure me.

I'm sure he won't.

The phone is ringing...oh God. Please. Don't let it be about Frohike.

Worse, don't let it be Frohike.

Juliet picks up. "Hello?" Her educated, modulated tones travel the line like a quiet song.

"Yes, he's here. Just a moment." She covers the microphone. "John. Your dad."

She's kidding...this has to be a prank call.

But it's not. "I need directions to your home." Typical of my father. Businesslike, no frills, no time for the little niceties that comprise most social exchanges.

But he's asking for the way to where we live. And I comply. Readily.

"The only flight I could catch from Los Angeles was to Baltimore. I'll be there in an hour." End of conversation.

I stare at Juliet in disbelief. "He's on his way."

"I told you he would."

Maybe she did, but this is one instance where I'm still extremely surprised.

And for once, the surprise is not unpleasant.

I think.
 

He is nothing if not punctual...I think I inherited this from him. Almost exactly sixty minutes later, he is at the door of our apartment, knocking.

My first sight of him takes me somewhat aback. He looks as if he has not slept in days...and if he traveled to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and back again, he probably hasn't. I wonder how long he was actually in the country. It had to have been mere hours.

"Dad." I want to reach out and hug him. I want to thank him for coming. I want him to tell me that everything will be all right, that he's here and he'll make it fine...

But I don't, and he doesn't. I shake his hand, he returns the gesture, and merely says, "Hello." He scans the lovely woman standing behind me. "And you must be Juliet."

"I think so. If I'm not, I'm not sure what I'm doing here." She smiles, but my father, well, the humor is lost on him. "It's nice to see you, Mr. Byers."

She's quite the diplomat. She can do this with a straight face.

"Well, since you're to be my daughter-in-law, I think it's appropriate that we finally are introduced." He narrows his eyes, studies her a little more intently. "Were you not the young lady who was there during my son's illness?"

"I was."

"I see."

This could be very uncomfortable. But I invite him in to sit down, and he obliges.

I should have gotten myself pulled together. I should've redone my tie, combed my hair...at the very minimum, buttoned my shirt back up. I look very much like I did the first time I came out of jail, with the exception of the fingerprint ink. At least my hands are clean this time.

"So what is it you need, John?" If no other thing were true about my father, it would be that he can cut to the chase. Rapidly.

"Um...well...I just...it's been...hard."

"And you need me to do what?"

What do I need you to do, Dad?

I need you to sit with me, to tell me that things will turn out all right, that Frohike will be fine...

I need you.

I don't think he'd get it.

What scares me is, I am so much like him, in so many ways.

"A close friend and associate of mine...is very ill."

"So you said."

"And I don't know that he's doing so well."

"He's where?"

"VA Hospital, in Fairfax."

"VA? They couldn't take care of a mosquito bite."

Not true...I think they do a good job there. As good a job as anyone can do in an institution which is perpetually short-staffed and overworked.

"Does he have the resources for private care?"

"Not really...he will have someone when he comes out...but I believe he can't pay her all that much...for that long."

"Does he carry any private insurance?"

"No." He carries it for Michael, but not for himself.

Not that anyone would touch him, with his age and history. And if they did, it would cost him more money than he probably takes home in a year.

"What sort of care has he arranged for upon release? You mentioned he had someone lined up."

"He does."

"Have you met this individual?"

"I have."

"And what's your opinion of him or her?"

"Her. My...opinion?"

He's never asked me my opinion on anything in my entire life.

"If I understand it, you analyze health care systems for a living. The least you must have is an opinion of this person."

"She seems competent. A great many years' experience in intensive care nursing, and taking care of a terminally ill husband."

"Has she been caring for him while he's hospitalized?"

"She has, but informally. She's on staff at another hospital."

"Which hospital?"

"Northeast Georgetown."

"Respectable institution. As a rule, I don't believe they hire idiots."

I barely know Martha, but it's obvious that she is anything but an idiot.

"I'd like to meet this woman."

Why? I want to ask him why...but I know my father, and he doesn't like his intentions questioned.

"I think she will be with him tomorrow. I understand she was doing a 12-hour graveyard tonight." Which probably contributed to Frohike's horrible mood.

"Very well. I'll see her tomorrow." He rises up, and I'm expecting that he will now leave and go to his hotel. "Excuse me, but where were you planning to have me sleep?"

He's staying here?!

Juliet and I never even discussed the possibility of this. Him, sleeping in our small, anonymous corporate apartment?

"Well...the sofa folds out..."

"Fine. Now if you'll both excuse me, I'm quite tired, and I'd like to turn in. Good night."

He makes it clear we are dismissed.

In our own apartment, no less!

But he did come.

And he is staying the night.

Sometimes miracles come slowly.
 

Juliet snuggles up to me in bed, both of us warm and naked. She begins to stroke me in the places that are sure to arouse me...and to my alarm, they do...

"Juliet, my father is here!"

She giggles, naughtily. "We did things when my mother was here."

"And she heard us!"

She giggles again. "And your father's been awake for three days...he's already out for the count. I checked him before I came in. He's definitely asleep."

I don't know...this makes me very uncomfortable.

"John, you're 37 years old! We're getting married! Surely your dad doesn't think you're a virgin!"

"Well, I was married before...I doubt it."

"Exactly. You're a normal, healthy man with normal, healthy desires. Go with it, John."

I don't know about this.

"John. Close your eyes. Just let it feel wonderful for you. Believe me, your dad can deal with this. Who knows? Maybe it would make him proud to know what a dynamo his son is in bed.

I doubt that very much...

But I close my eyes, breathe in...

Juliet takes my hands and holds them over my head, rolling herself on top of me and kissing my chest, my stomach, my thighs...I moan, albeit quietly. Her lips light up my nerve endings like small firecrackers.

I want her to know this feeling. I let my lips travel from her hair to her face, to her mouth, to her shoulders, down to the tops of her breasts, to the dark areolae, and to her increasingly erect nipples...

She is magnificent.

We taste each other, drinking in each other's scents and flavors. She tastes wonderful, smells like a garden full of sweet flowers.

"John." Her voice is a throaty whisper.

"Juliet."

"John. You know what I want."

"What's that?"

"I want your baby."

I know she does...and I want it, too.

"Can't promise you results tonight...but half the fun is getting there." I smile at her, and her eyes grow large and liquid.

"Go in me, John. Go in me. Fill me up."

I enter her, gently, slowly, savoring each sensation of warmth and dampness as it finds its way up my body.

"I want you inside me...all the time. Give me your seed, John."

I want to fill her up with my child. I want to see the two of us coming together in one person. I want to watch her abdomen swell and her breasts grow large and heavy. I want to watch her offer those to our new child, and see the child take it hungrily...

I don't know why, but I'm a lot less nervous now about the prospect of fatherhood.

This is probably a good thing, because it doesn't take long for me to spill my all into her body...

And something tells me, if it's going to happen, it will happen tonight.
 

MICHAEL:

Kelly and me had a rough time with Dad tonight. He is so fucking crabby, that if I didn't feel so bad for him, I'd kill him.

Prof came by, and Dad was such an SOB to him, I wouldn't have blamed Byers for choking him on the spot. Course, he's the prof, so he's cool, but I bet he felt like shit after my dad gave him an ass-kicking that came pretty close to the ones he gives me.

We finally get him to sleep. He's not sleeping so much right now, and that sucks, because when he's asleep, he's not bitching.

He's in lots of pain. You can tell.

Still, does he have to scream at me? And everyone else, while he's at it? Swear to God, the nurses there are all starting to hate him.

Only time he's calm is when Martha's there. Otherwise, he is total hell on wheels.

He needs Martha there all the time.

Too bad she has to work her other job. If she could just take care of Dad...

I must be losing my mind. I mean, I don't want this lady around-but I do. She seems to do good for him. She's with him, she keeps him from freaking out seven ways to Sunday.

And okay, she hasn't been too bad to me. I guess.

Kelly thinks she's nice. But that's Kelly. She thinks it's perfectly okay that my dad is hot for someone.

She actually thinks it's sort of cute!

Aargh!

We go back to Chateau Langly, we decide, we'll sleep over there. Easier to work on the cars there, and they both need intensive care if we're gonna keep them alive for the semester. We stop at our house, check the messages, I grab my stuff (now I know why women keep their undies stuffed in the bottom of their purses), and head over to the Chateau.

Cars are all here, but it's so damn quiet...where the hell is everyone? Even the cats don't come out, squawking to see if they can con somebody into a second dinner.

Only thing I hear is the faint mumble of the TV, coming from Ally and Langly's bedroom. We creep back there.

What a sight. This is too funny.

Langly's snoring away on his pillow, got the kid pulled into him. Ally's in the middle, Miranda's snuggled against her shoulder, and Shelby's on her feet.

Guess everyone's out for the count. Wish I had a camera here. This is just so domestic and so damned funny.

Langly, a family man. The concept is hilarious.

Except that he's really gotten into it. Obviously.

Kelly sighs and wraps her arm around me. "You know, when I was little, my mom and Tracy and me, we used to get on her bed and do the same thing, watch TV together and fall asleep."

I think I hear a little sob in her voice. I pull her in tight.

And it makes me think.

Yeah, my dad's being a total asshole right now.

But at least I still have him. He's still alive, and kicking and screaming, and with any luck, he'll be around to kick and scream for a long time to come.

I just hope I survive that part.
 

Kelly really needs a bigger bed. This sleeping in her single, this is nuts. I like being close and all, but it's like, you can't even move when you got two people in here.

I used to live in this room...seems smaller than when I lived here. I think it's because Kelly's kind of made it hers. For a long time, she really didn't have anything but her schoolbooks and clothes in here. But now, well, Ally got her more clothes, and after her mom and Tracy died, she like filled it up with pictures and stuff on the wall. Dr. Scully gave her this poster of the Human Genome Project, she's got that, and she's got this Anne Geddes poster with these babies dressed in like these bear suits. I think it's kind of sick, but she thinks they're cute.

Hey, when we've got a place together, no way is that thing going up on the wall...

Jesus, Frohike. What are you thinking?

And she's got candles, we took a bunch of 'em from the dining room drawer. Ally never says anything, so I don't think she cares. Or maybe even notices. This place has like a million of everything, Chateau Langly does. Like some homes have one TV or one phone? Not Chateau Langly. I think they've got like 8 phones and at least 3 TV's, three VCR's, 2 laser disc players, 1 DVD-okay, one thing they only have one of-six computers just in the house, three cats, and at least a million blankets. Hell, Ally's even got two sets of silverware, for Christ's sake.

Wonder if Kelly and me would ever have so much junk.

Probably. I mean, Dad and me, we have an amazing amount of stuff packed into a two-bedroom apartment. I think every inch of wall space and most of the floor space is occupied by something. And Dad never throws anything out. ANYTHING.

Wonder what Martha's gonna think of that. Dad and me are packrats, let's face it.

I kind of like that her room has more junk in it now. Feels more like home. Something about having stuff around you, makes you feel kind of secure. Same way in the offices. I think sometimes the prof goes nuts with all the crap piled up everywhere, but he doesn't really make a serious attempt to move it out.

I think back to our house when I was little, and Mom and Dad were still together...yeah, it was junky, too. Tons of crap everywhere. Mom used to bitch about the mess, but she was working and never had much time to beat the onslaught back.

And then I remember Sunday mornings, where Les and me used to go and dive-bomb Mom and Dad in bed, and we'd all read the comics together in the Sunday paper. Then we'd read the sale ads. Maybe this is why Dad and me still read the ads, even though we almost never go to these stores.

Wonder if Dad remembers that.

Probably. I don't think he forgets much.

"Michael." Kelly runs her thumb over my cheek. "Did you tell Leslie about your dad?"

No, I didn't. But I did think about it.

I'm kind of debating on that one. On one hand, the bitch does have a right to know, he is her dad, too, much as I'm loathe to admit it.

And maybe he'd like to see her...I know he's been e-mailing her, she says she's gonna come soon...

But then, he might get upset because he figures she's only there because she feels bad for him, and that really doesn't hit it with him. Dad's weird about the sympathy thing. He wants you there, he's real scared when you're not, but then when you are, it's almost like he's embarrassed or something.

I probably should tell my mom, too. Not that she's gonna do anything. She can't, really. But she'd maybe want to know. I don't know.

I could sort of use Mom right now. But I got way much to do this weekend, and no way would the 'Stang or Kelly's Mazda make it to NJ. And I'm not gonna leave Dad.

Suppose I could ask her to come down. I mean, Dad's gonna be in the hospital awhile, she and Carl could stay at the apartment. She's stayed there before, and yeah, it's kind of weird, particularly the idea that she and Carl would do it in Dad's bed...this makes me giggle. Kelly gives me a weird look like I'm losing it.

She has no idea.

Then again, maybe she does.

"So Kel. Think I should tell Mom and Les?"

She doesn't even think about that for more than half a second. "Yes. Definitely."

I was afraid of that.

END OF PART 33