"To come forward just in time
Seems to be my fate.
How do you need me?"

"Antigone," Translation by Richard Emil Braun. Lines 469-471. Used without permission.
 

FROHIKE:

I'm waiting for Martha to get here.

Not because I need the nursing care-the day staff here is seeing adequately to those needs.

No, I need some attention of a more...personal nature.

I confess. I just want her to come and keep me company.

That sounds silly, considering that in less than 24 hours, I should be free from here.

To tell the truth, I'm not certain I would look forward to going home with the same anticipation if Martha were not going to continue to be caring for me.

And oh, I do want her to care for me.

And not just as a nurse...although I have to say, when she's treated me, it's a lot less unpleasant than it is otherwise. She can even make a blood draw tolerable-and God knows they've sucked enough out of me.

The little bear she brought for me when I was in such rotten shape...I've never let it go. I keep it under the blankets at all times.

There are footsteps in the hallway...of course, there are always footsteps around here, it's something of a zoo, but I've learned to pick out Martha's. They're quiet, and it requires listening closely.

I can't pick them out because there are so many of them.

A face appears in the doorway. The face of my son.

"Hi Dad. C'n I come in?"

"Sure." I'm slightly disappointed not to see Martha, but I'm always happy to see my son-at least when he's like this.

He's smiling a lot more than I remember in recent history.

I study him. Something about him is different...I can't pinpoint what.

Not the hair-Christ, can't Miranda do him once without throwing some dye on? He's a natural brunette, and he should live with it.

He's shaven. That's not a usual occurrence, particularly once school has started. When he had pneumonia last year, he'd gotten a pretty full beard going.

As I have now.

I wonder if Martha likes it.

Beyond that, he just looks...calmer.

Maybe I had something to do with that.

"So Dad? You ready to blow this popsicle stand?"

"You have no idea."

"You're looking pretty okay," he scrutinizes me. "Except?"

"Except what?"

"Dad, I'm sorry, you get home, the beard's gotta go."

"I'll think about it."

And how I'll think about it is this: if the lady wants it gone, it goes.

And if she likes it?

You can have it when you shave it off my cold, dead chin.

"Um, Dad? I sorta got a surprise for you."

Oh God no. I don't need this right now.

Don't tell me. He knocked her up.

"What is it?" I'm trying not to sound panicky.

He goes back over to the door. "C'mon in, Les."

Leslie?

My little girl, Leslie?

It's her.

I was hoping Michael wasn't going to say anything to her. I'm going to kill that boy...

"Daddy!" Leslie comes over to me, but doesn't embrace me. She wants to, but I don't know if she fears she's going to disturb my incisions...or break my heart.

"Leslie. What're you doing here?"

She looks down at her feet, which are not that far from her face-she's a very short girl.

And unfortunately, she got my looks. Which work on her brother, but on her...well...

She'd have done better to look like her mother.

"I got your e-mails, Daddy." She's not looking up at me.

"And?" I'm not really sure how to approach her, any more than she is me.

"Well...I wanted to come down and surprise you...but I didn't know...that bastard brother of mine didn't tell me." Her voice is accusing and sharp.

She'd be disappointed to know she just got her little brother off the hook in that regard.

"How're you feeling, Daddy?"

Right now, a bit in shock...but it's a pleasant kind of shock.

She's not being antagonistic.

"I got to your place last night...and when I got there, Michael and Kelly and what's her name were all there-"

That's right. Martha went to clean the apartment with the kids. She borrowed my keys, with my blessings.

"Her name is Martha."

"Right." She seems a little subdued when Martha is mentioned-I wonder what transpired between them, if anything. "They told me...you were really sick, Daddy."

"I'm better now, dear," I assure her.

She still keeps her distance, wary, unsure.

"Why didn't anyone tell me, Daddy?" She's irritable now, angry at being left out of the loop...

And worried. She might be angry with me, with Michael, with everyone in the world...but she still wants and needs her daddy.

"Come here, pumpkin," I tell her, using the nickname I haven't used since she was small. I open my arms to her...

And she slides in willingly, and begins to sob.

"Daddy, Daddy. I'm so sorry I was such a bitch last time-"

That doesn't matter now.

She's here. She's here with me. My baby girl.

Michael's watching the whole thing, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Michael, my boy, you were in this same position not all that long ago.

Yes, my children can be awful. They make mistakes. They can be surly, disrespectful, disagreeable.

But they're my children, no matter what.

And they're both here with me.

Here and now.

I long to hold both of them, just to assure myself that I'm not dreaming this.

Michael will probably balk, but I need them both to be here. I motion him over.

He hesitates, but not for long.

And pretty soon, I have both my kids, with me, my arms around both of them, at the same time.

We haven't been a family in a long time.

But as long as you're not six feet under, you get another chance.

I've never been so grateful to have another chance as I am now.
 

Michael says he's going to do some homework with Kelly. I'm sure they'll be working. I'm just not convinced homework is the only thing they'll be doing.

He promises he and Kelly will be back later.

I'm tempted to tell him to skip it and I'll see him tomorrow, but I was such a bastard to him for much of my time in here...and I know how easily hurt he is.

Once again, I'm alone with my daughter.

She seems remarkably subdued, which is not usually an adjective I associate with her.

"Daddy." She doesn't look at me. "I'm...sorry...about how I acted...on Father's Day."

"It's all right, pumpkin. Let it go now."

"I can't. I was just...I shouldn't have brought Pam...I shouldn't have just taken off like that...I was just so mad..."

"Leslie. You know I love you, don't you?" I stretch my hand out and raise her chin up.

"Yeah."

"And you know I wouldn't have ever left you...if I didn't have to?"

"Um...I think so."

"Michael says he told you everything."

"He did. I have to admit, I'm kind of skeptical of Mikey-he's such a brat sometimes-"

"Michael is a brat sometimes. But he's grown up a lot, Leslie."

I'm hoping that maybe she has, too.

"And he told you the truth."

"Yeah. I know." She looks up at me. "You know Mommy's getting married again, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." And I'm happy for her. "Michael's gone up and visited her a few times, you know."

"I know." She rolls her eyes. "God, you'd think he'd gone from being Satan Incarnate to being the most perfect child ever born, if you listen to Mommy."

I have to laugh at that one, but I keep the chuckles internal.

"I miss you, Daddy." She lowers her eyes again.

I should be wary of her. Vulnerability and warmth have never been Leslie's strong suits.

But if I attack her on it, or hold back, she will probably withdraw and I'll never be able to reach her again.

I've got to give her the chance.

"Come here again, Pumpkin, and sit by me." I motion for her to come back up on the bed and just be with me.

She does. She doesn't readily embrace me-her brother is far more affectionate-but she sits close by.

"How's your dissertation coming, Pumpkin?" She's been in school for nearly forever-I'd like to see her finish.

She looks at her hands. Short fingers, like mine. "Slow. I feel like I'm never gonna finish."

"You will."

"You didn't finish yours, Daddy."

"No, I didn't. But...you need to finish yours, Leslie."

"I know. It's just..." she looks me straight in the eyes, for the first time. Her eyes are the same shade of green as mine, and her brother's. Michael, however, got Jan's eyelashes. Lucky boy.

"Just what, Pumpkin?"

She hesitates. "Daddy...I don't think I wanna be a psychologist."

Well, that's the first sensible career indicator I've heard from her-

Wait a minute. She's been in school for ten years now. Ten years, she's still not done...

And now she's talking about changing?

Oh Christ. I thought her brother was difficult.

I'm so delighted she's here.

What makes it better is that she did not know what had happened to me...

And she came of her own accord. Not out of excessive guilt over my illness.

"Leslie. You do understand...that at the time you were here last, it wasn't that...that anyone was more important than you. But the situation...mandated my attention. You do understand that, I hope?"

"Well...yeah." It was the weekend of Juliet's auto accident. "Mikey says it was pretty bad."

"It was."

"So how's she doing now? The girl who got hurt?"

"Juliet? She's doing all right. Getting married next month. She and her fiance are moving into their new house today."

"Guess she lived, then."

"She's worked hard at her recovery." And she has. Juliet has dogged it.

"Guess you're gonna have to, too, Daddy."

Oh God, don't you know it, baby girl.

"Um...Daddy?"

"Yes, dear?"

"This lady Martha...is she just your nurse...or is she, like, you know, a-"

What is she?

A girlfriend (how quaint to be employing that term at my age!)? A friend? A companion? A soulmate?

I know what I want her to be.

A lover.

But will that happen?

I'd like to think so.

"Martha...has been my nurse...and we've become good friends."

She eyes me suspiciously. "Uh-huh."

What is it with my children that they're so suspicious? Nothing I tell them, will they ever take at face value.

"She's pushy, Daddy."

Meaning: she can match wits and tongues with you. Isn't that so, darling daughter?

"She means well. She's trying to help me get over this."

"I bet she is."

"Leslie, that's enough." I'm not going to put up with this shit. I'm happy she's here, but...

It has just occurred to me that now I'm going to be worrying about two children full time.

I don't think this was in Martha's treatment outline.
 

LANGLY:

We end up in, of all places, Mitch's.

I know, that's insane. We're trying not to drink, so where do head for? A goddamn biker bar.

And Ally can't play pool to save her life. So it's not like I can use that for an excuse.

It's Saturday night, Labor Day weekend, everybody's revved since nobody has to go to work on Monday, unless you had the poor judgment to be in retail or medicine.

Mitch doesn't see us at first, and one of his barmaids takes care of us-Mountain Dew for me, club soda with two limes for Ally.

We probably shouldn't have come here...but hell, we were thirsty.

And we both promised each other, no liquor tonight.

It's nice just being alone with her, and not fighting. She's talking more than she usually does. And that helps.

You can smoke in Mitch's. It won't matter if they ever ban smoking in bars in Maryland-Mitch'll ignore it, and so will all the patrons. So Ally lights up, and I steal one from her.

Hope I don't replace drinking with this. I'm not sure which one would do me in faster.

I mean, we can't fix ourselves and our lives in one afternoon. But it's like, at least she's here, and she doesn't look at me like she's mad at me. Fact, she kind of is looking at me the way I like her to.

"This is weird," she says as she sucks on a lime slice. I couldn't do this. To me, sucking on lime slices, this is like having a Corona or a shot of Jose. "We're sitting in Mitch's, drinking nonalcoholic beverages. We're probably going to get kicked out." She giggles a little. Music to my ears, hearing her giggle again. She hasn't done much lately.

"It's...a bit surreal," I concede.

Place is typical early Saturday night, people having a cholesterol fest (only food served at Mitch's), a few stragglers shooting some pool, and the jukebox blaring out 'Take This Job and Shove It.' This makes me laugh.

Would be that I could.

Nah. I'm not gonna let the bastards win. Forget it. Only way to win is to beat 'em at their own game.

And I'm gonna do it.

"I hate country music," Ally laughs. "So why do we always end up here?"

"It's the atmosphere."

"Well, well, look what the cat drug in. Where the hell you jokers been?"

"Hi, Mitch." Ally smiles at him. She's looking a lot better than she was earlier.

"Dunno about you, but I work for a living these days," I remind him.

"That'll be the day. So Ally, how's this fuckrag treating you?"

"Lousy." But she grins hugely.

"Want me to take him out back and beat some sense into him?"

Mitch, by the way, makes me look like a dwarf. He's almost as big as Renegade.

"Now why would I want you to do that? You'd spoil all my fun," she's got this evil gleam in her eyes.

"Promises, promises," I tease her. It feels good to tease her again, and having her do it to me.

"Oh, I have plans for you, boy," she says, winking like the naughty girl she knows how to be.

Mitch invites himself to sit down. "You guys aren't having the usual, I see."

"Um...well...we're sorta kinda trying to lay off," I'm not real comfortable telling him this. I mean, he is a bartender, for Christ's sake.

And he's seen me drunk plenty.

"Hey, that's cool. Gotta do it every once in a while. Jackie, like, sometimes she's telling me, Mitch, you gotta get off the sauce a while."

"Yeah," Ally just nods. "Mitch, when are you going to get some real music for this place?"

Mitch glares at her. "Excuse me, young lady, this IS real music. Country's the ONLY music, you ask me."

She giggles. "To each his own, I suppose. I'm just a California girl at heart, I think."

"She was a deprived child," I say to Mitch.

"Well, then we gotta make sure she gets raised up right now. 'Scuse me."

He strolls away from the table.

"Ally, this is a biker bar. They don't play Toad the Wet Sprocket here."

"No duh! I was playing with him, Langly! And you hate country as well!"

"Yeah, but hey, it's Mitch's bar, and he can play what he damn well likes."

"True, true." She smiles again.

Mitch cruises back over.

"Okay, young lady, next song comes up on the jukebox, that's for you."

Like all good bartenders, Mitch doesn't take offense easily. He's just anxious to see his clientele well-educated.

It's George Strait's 'I Cross My Heart.'

Yeah, it's schmoop.

But it's nice schmoop.

"Ally? You wanna dance?" I ask her, tugging at her hand.

"Langly, I never dance without at least three drinks in me."

"Well, time you learned." I pull her hand, she's kind of resisting, but I'm bigger than her.

"Langly, this makes me feel weird."

"Ally, quit worrying. Look at me."

She does.

"Nobody here but us. Just like Frohike told you at our wedding. Just pretend, nobody here but us."

"Okay." She's still kind of nervous, but she settles herself into me. I take her hands, and I lead her to the music.

And she looks at me. Looks at me the way I love her to.

We can do this.

END OF PART 46