"Father, the gods implant intelligence in humans.
Of all our properties, that is the supreme one.
I lack the power and the training to tell you you're wrong,
And that's just as well.
But perhaps a second opinion will be valuable."

"Antigone," Translation by Richard Emil Braun, Lines 828-832. Used without permission.
 

LANGLY:

September 14, 2001
 

That wasn't really the alarm, was it?

I'm just dreaming this. Really, I am.

It's Saturday. What the fuck is going on that I have to get up at 7?

Oh, yeah. Byers. He's moving. Promised I'd help.

Oh yeah, I'm in great shape to help him. My head feels like I'm underwater, and I think I might have done a few more shots than was helpful last night. My stomach feels like it's being trampled and I've got that famous Jose headache.

It's Ally's fault, she keeps this stuff around.

She's already up, I can hear the shower. Notice she didn't invite me to join her, which she usually does on Saturdays.

She was kind of pissed at me last night. I wonder if she's chilled out.

I'm still lying there like death warmed over when she comes back in, wrapped in a towel and nothing else-I can tell this even without my glasses.

"Hey." She didn't say anything when she came in.

"Hey." Not much enthusiasm there. Maybe she's tired. "We have to go soon, you know."

"Yeah."

She doesn't come over to hug me or kiss me or try to get me turned on, like she usually does.

What the fuck did I do? I mean, I know she was kind of mad, but I didn't do anything that bad.

Did I?

"What's up?" I ask her.

"Not you, apparently."

Uh-oh. She's gone into ice-brick mode. I hate this part of Ally's character. She gets mad, she doesn't go on a rant or anything. She just shuts down and freezes over.

For some reason, I think about the phrase, hell freezing over, when she gets this way.

"Ally, did I do something?" I mean, I'd really like to know.

She turns around and this time she looks me in the eyes. Both of us have glasses on now, so it's not like we can pretend we can't see the other one.

"Langly. You blew Patrick off last night, and you really upset him."

Oh, Jesus! One night, I feel like shit and now I'm gonna pay for it in spades like this?

"And you never even talk to me. It's like I don't even exist. I'm starting to feel like the maid instead of your wife."

What?! What the hell is going on here?!

"I do so talk to you, Ally."

"Not lately you don't." She's getting dressed, and normally I enjoy watching this, she's so cute and all, but right now, I don't feel much like going on the prowl. "You come home, down a fifth of Jose-"

"Oh, like you have room to talk about that, Ally!" She's got no right to hassle me-she's pretty friendly with the dude herself.

"Hey, Langly, I've been trying, you know!"

"Well, imagine that. Ally starts drinking at five instead of three. Now there's an accomplishment."

She looks like I just smacked her. For a moment, she's like too stunned to speak.

Then she runs out of the room crying.

Oh God. What has happened to me? To her? To us?
 

Ally was supposed to go with me, but I can't find her in the house. I look outside.

She bailed out in the Neon.

I run downstairs. Miranda's still fast asleep.

Check Patrick's room. He's still crashed out, I get out when he starts to stir, because once he's up, that's it. 200 miles an hour and no brakes.

Where the hell is she?

Bars aren't open at this hour in our part of town, so I doubt she went there, and besides, unless she's with the girlfriends, she mostly drinks at home.

I don't know what I'm gonna do here. I'm supposed to be at Byers's in an hour. Ally, too.

I don't know. Should I wait for her, should I go over and fake like nothing's wrong?

God, where the fuck is Frohike when I need him?

I think about what I said to Ally...what I said to Patrick...

Those are all the things my dad used to say. To my mom and me.

I need to get in the shower.
 

ALLY:

I can't take this.

This is like watching a bad movie...only I'm one of the principals. And I was never much for melodrama.

I'm watching my marriage disintegrate before my eyes. Worse, I'm watching my husband shatter into a million tiny pieces.

He's totally changed since he was moved at work, was it only three weeks ago? He's always been moody and snappish, but lately, he's just pushed us away. It's as if he hates us now. Maybe he blames us that he has to keep working at a job he hates.

And apparently, quitting isn't his decision...

NO! I won't let this happen!

This is my family, for God's sake! I am not going to allow us to splinter and tumble into the wreckage of psychic destruction.

But what am I going to do to keep it from happening?

I need to stop crying, first of all.

Easier said than done here, people. I think about the three people I love mostly dearly...Langly...Miranda...Patrick...and I'm dying inside.

My car is on the beltway, headed for Fairfax.

You shouldn't do it, Allison.

Frohike does not need your troubles right now. God knows he's got enough of his own.

Don't bother him. Figure it out yourself. C'mon, you're a resourceful girl...so you've been told.

Yeah, I'm a drunk, and a lousy wife, and as much as I try as a mother, I'm never going to win any awards for my parenting, and I feel like mentally I'm not sharp anymore...

God, before this, Langly and I had plenty of terrible days...but at the end of the day, we always could laugh about something, and it would end with embraces and reaffirmation of that which ties us together.

I hand the parking attendant a five for the four dollar parking charge. I shouldn't be here. I should not be here. I should just go home...

The elevator, as always, is painfully slow. But it's pretty quiet at this time of day. I know that officially, visiting hours haven't started...but no one's ever bothered me about arriving at odd times here in the past. I think the staff is too overworked to worry about a few errant guests...

Allison, don't do it, leave him alone!

He's sitting up in bed, and he looks better than he's looked in weeks. There's a little color to him, and he's got his glasses on, watching CNN.

"Allison, my dear! You're up early." He greets me with more warmth in his voice than he's shown recently.

Well, he's got an excuse. He's been critically ill.

What's our excuse?

"Hi Frohike." I come in and sit down next to him.

He snaps off the TV. "What's wrong, my dear?"

Oh Christ, am I that obvious?

"Well...Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be bothering you-"

"Oh, Allison, I'm getting tired as though I'm too fragile to deal with life and people! Now come and sit down and tell me what's on your mind."

He still looks somewhat weary...this is not going to help him...

"My dear, you wouldn't be here at this hour if something wasn't wrong...you and your boy usually languish on Saturday mornings, if I recall correctly."

"He's helping Byers move."

"Oh yes, that's right. Today's the day."

"I'm supposed to be helping them, too."

"I'm sure they'll survive in your absence, my dear." This is said gently, not mockingly.

"Now what is it? You can tell me."

Can I?

"Frohike...you said Langly went through rehab, didn't you?"

"A long time ago. Ten years-yes, I think it's been ten, eleven years." He peers over the tops of his glasses, eyes serious. "Is he...I know he's been able for several years now to drink socially...is he losing it again?"

I feel myself start to cry. "Frohike, I don't know what the hell happened. When he got moved to his new job, he just went all to hell. He's drinking like a fish, he won't talk to me, won't talk to the kids...Frohike, what if he doesn't love me anymore?"

Now I'm in serious tears. Shit. I gulp down air, trying to make it stop.

"Kleenex are over on the table, my dear." I reach for the box and try not to be too disgusting about blowing my nose. "Now what's this about him not loving you anymore? Allison, really. If you're saying things like that, then you're losing your grip right along with him."

"Certainly feels that way."

He's quiet, thinking. "No. Not that way. This is what he was like before he went into rehab, my dear."

Oh God. You don't think...no. He wouldn't do it...

"What'm I gonna do, Frohike?" I must sound like a stupid ten-year-old. Emphasis on the stupid.

He takes his time. "What are you going to do? Do you want some concrete advice in this area?"

"That would be helpful." I'm totally lost here.

"All right. Now I can only base this on what I know about you two, and what I observe about you."

"Okay."

"You won't like this, Allison."

"Look, Frohike, I'm willing to try anything right now."

He looks at me, clear if weary green eyes fixed hard at me.

"You have to stop drinking. Both of you. At least for a while."

Oh Christ.

Hard enough for me to do it myself...what about him?

What if he doesn't want to?

He's an adult. I cannot keep him from purchasing and consuming liquor if that's what he wishes to do.

"You're talking about cold turkey."

"I am. That means, you get rid of everything in the house."

"What about for our friends?"

"We won't miss it for a little while, believe me." He chuckles. "I'm not supposed to be drinking...I have to remind Michael to get the J&B out. God, I'm going to miss it."

"You don't have to do that...forever, do you?"

"I don't plan to. No longer than I have to."

"What if he decides to start drinking away from the house?"

Frohike shakes his head. "I don't think he will."

"I'm not so sure."

"I am."

"Okay...so how do I get him to talk to us again?"

He smiles a little. "You're going to have to ride his ass a little."

"I'm not good at that." And I'm not.

"You're going to have to sit on him a bit. It's what he wants, my dear."

"And you're sure of this."

He laughs softly. "Been there, done that. More than you'd ever want to know, my dear."

I wonder.

"Think about it, Allison. He's a follower by nature. He looks to you to organize his life. He wants it and expects it. So do it."

"I'm not much of a leader myself."

"Then you'll have to improvise."

"We had the most horrible fight this morning," I tell him sadly.

"I could tell."

Well, no one ever said I wasn't transparent.

"Is he still sick?" Frohike asks me.

"Yep."

"God, that boy." He shakes his head. "Never takes care of himself."

Now that makes ME laugh. Talk about a pot calling a kettle black!

I think Frohike gets the joke, but he doesn't say anything. Just smiles gently.

"So...what should I do...today?"

"Now there's the spirit. As I said, get rid of any alcohol in the house."

"Michael's going to miss grabbing a beer."

"Not that much. Get rid of all of it. ALL of it, you hear?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then, you bribe Miranda, through blackmail or cash, to agree to watch Patrick for the day. And don't let her wiggle out of it. She has responsibilities, you know. Once you do that, you grab your boy, and you either drag him off to your room or a restaurant or wherever you two can talk alone, and you wrestle it out."

"He might not want to talk."

"Too bad. Then you go first."

And I like talking about things like this even less than he does.

"Trust me, he'll talk to you. He will."

"I don't know."

"Oh, he will. He's just waiting for you to come and grab him by the throat and tell him to listen up and fly right."

"I don't think so."

"Oh, I do think so-and I've known him a long time, my dear. If he even remotely thinks he'll alienate your affections, he'll jump. I know what he fears, and you do, too."

"Being abandoned."

"Exactly. Now, go home, clean out the kitchen, MAKE SURE there's none hidden in the house, and then go to part B. I don't like to make guarantees-there are obviously none in this world. But I've know him a long time, and I've watched you two from the word go." He gives me a sweet, soft smile. "It'll take you two a little while. But you'll do it."

"I love him so much, Frohike."

"I know you do. And he loves you." He closes his eyes for a moment-I think I'm wearing him out here. "By the way, has he gone through his sister's and brother's things?"

"No. He hasn't had time."

"Bah. He's just classically avoiding. Typical of him. That's another thing. You make him do it. This weekend. And you do it with him to make sure he doesn't slack on it."

"I think he's a little afraid of doing it."

"He is not a little afraid of doing it. He's mortified. He needs to get past that and resolve it. You can help him a lot there, my dear."

I'm a little nervous about it myself, are you kidding?

"It's hard to break old patterns." He gives a rueful smile. "Don't I know it."

"You think you're going to have to make some changes when you get out?"

"Yeah, I will. And it's not going to be easy."

Particularly for someone as set in his ways as Frohike.

"Frohike, I'm sorry to have bothered you with all this."

"Don't be silly. It's nice to be recognized as human and helpful again. Not as a helpless burden."

"I don't think you could ever be that."

"We'll see. Now if you'll excuse me, my dear, I really need a nap."

"Thank you, Frohike." I lean over and kiss him on the cheek.

"Anytime, my dear. Anytime."

"Um...Frohike...one piece of advice for when you get home?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Lose the beard."

I can hear him chuckle softly as he drifts off to sleep.
 

LANGLY:

I'm supposed to be helping Byers.

I can't drag myself out to do it.

I'm just waiting, and waiting...where is Ally? When's she coming back?

God, I am such an asshole.

It's been like over two hours since I last saw her...feels like two years.

I finally hear the four-cylinder engine that belongs to her car pull in...and yeah, it's her driving it.

I don't know whether to scream at her or just grab her in my arms and tell her I'm real sorry and I suck...

"Hi." She doesn't come over and hug me yet, but she's not giving me the look of death at least. Her eyes look kind of soft and sad. "You okay?"

"I'm...all right." I lie to her.

"I'm not." She lowers her eyes, and I think she's crying.

"Me neither."

I take her in my arms, and we head down for our room, and we just lie there for a long time. I'm not sure whose sobbing is whose.
 

We just stay quiet and locked on each other for a while.

She talks first. "Langly, I have something to do. And you can help me."

"What's that?" I mean, I'd do anything for her right now...if she'd just treat me like she loves me...

"We have to get rid of all the liquor."

She's been talking to the Fro.

This should really piss me off...and it kind of does.

And at the same time, something in me's like, she did the right thing...

"Both of us. At least for now. We're a mess, Langly."

Yeah, that we are.

"We're starting to sound like a bad remake of 'The Lost Weekend.' That's not what I want for us, babe."

"It's just..." Oh God. How'm I supposed to start? Where? "Ally, man, it's just...every day, I got this boss...and all he does is like make me feel like I suck...and I can't deal with it...by the time it's done, end of the day, I'm so dead from it-"

"You don't suck, Langly."

"Thank you, Ally."

She laughs-oh God, she actually laughed. It's so great just to hear a few notes of laughter from her.

"Langly. I love you so much, and I don't care what I have to do, but I'm not going to watch us-you, me, us-go to pieces while I stand around and watch."

I nod.

"We're going to get the booze out of here, at least for a while. Then Miranda's going to look after Patrick-"

"Like she's gonna be happy about that."

"I don't care if she's happy about it or not. Right now, I think we have more important things to deal with."

"Even more than the kids?"

"The kids are part of it, but yeah, even more than the kids. Langly, we've been pummeled by a lot...and we've always been okay...till now. I'm not going to let this break us. And you're not, either."

I keep nodding, like an idiot.

What can I say, I'm a guy. Born to be stupid in this area.

"Then we're going to Chesapeake Bay."

I can do that.

"Ally...I dunno. Never seen you without your buddy Jose. This is gonna be hard."

"I think if you help me, I can do it."

Help her I will, then.

END OF PART 44