"My friend was there and in the river water
she dipped and washed the royal purple robes,
and spread them on the rock's warm back
where the sunbeams played."

"Hippolytus," Lines 125-128. Translation by David Grene. Used without permission.
 

BYERS:

"Juliet, we've got God knows how many people down there...and my father is going to have a heart attack the way they're going at him!"

She just giggles. "Oh, he'll manage. My mother will make sure of that."

That's just what I'm afraid of. And my taking off in the midst of what seems on the surface to be my party (though in fact, I had nothing to do with it)...well, I'm probably going to hear about that, no end in sight.

"We shouldn't be up here, Jules."

She grins at me wickedly. "We need to get ready for the rehearsal. What better excuse do we need?"

"Jules,` they'll hear us!"

She laughs loudly. "What, with my relatives down there? I doubt it."

She has a point. There is a solid wall of sound down there.

Any therapeutic benefit I derived from this afternoon's excursion has been obliterated in all this.

"I think we should just get dressed, quickly, and head down there."

"What? And disappoint everybody?" She pretends to look appalled.

Except that I'm the one who's appalled.

"Juliet, really, we should..."

She's unhooked the zipper of my jeans while I protest, pulls aside the boxers, and I find her mouth drifting down over me...

And what's really weird is, I respond.

Oh God. The things she does to me...

Warm wet soft slick hot...oh God. I run my hands through her silky dark hair. I am her prisoner, and she is free to do with me as she chooses.

I feel desire coiling up in my belly again, and her mouth drives it home. I have now reached the point where there will be no turning back; the only direction in which to move is forward...

I try to stifle whatever guttural sounds are coming from me. She is so wonderful at this...

Having spent me again, she stands up, wraps her arms around me tightly. "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Uh...no...not hardly..."

"Hey, Julie!" I hear a number of footsteps in the hallway as the blood that was pounding in my ears ceases to flow there, and I jump about thirty feet in the air at the sound of this.

"Uncle George, what're you doing?" She shouts back at him.

"Hey, you kids getting a head start on the wedding night or something?" This is accompanied by loud laughter from a number of people...oh God, how many of them are out there?

And were out there for the whole thing?

"Uncle George, how dare you insinuate we were having sex!" Juliet shouts back.

Please, let me die, right here and now...make it quick and merciful...

"Oh, sure, we believe you!" Another, younger male voice shouts to us.

"Well, you better, because we weren't having sex!"

What the hell would you call it, then?

"I was giving John a blow job!"

Oh God no...what have I gotten myself into here...

This is greeted by fierce applause. No doubt my father will hear all about it...

The words Frohike passed to Langly on his wedding day come back to me. He told Langly, "Remember, you're the groom,  which makes you the least important person here. Deal with it."

Any chance I could send a proxy?
 

She's giggling at me nonstop as we dress for the rehearsal. I'm shaking so hard, I can barely knot my tie.

"John, will you relax! They're just a bunch of crazy Italians, and they're all happy for us!"

"Do you really need to make our private activities public domain? Are you going to let them come on the honeymoon, too? Perhaps we should videotape it and then show it as home movies!"

She stops laughing, looks at me. "John. Will you relax? Just because we don't celebrate the way your family does-"

"That's because Byerses do NOT celebrate!"

"And that's the problem, they don't! John, stop being uptight! We're getting married tomorrow! And they all know I'm pregnant! It's not as if it's not obvious what we've been up to!"

"That doesn't mean everyone has to know!"

"I don't think they have to imagine much," she laughs again.

I look at her. "They all know we're expecting?"

"We told my mom, didn't we?"

"Yes..."

"Well, telling my mom, she's gossip central. You didn't seriously think we'd be able to keep this under wraps, did you?"

"My father doesn't know yet!"

"He does now, I'm sure of it."

Oh God no.

The look on my face has to be a twisted combination of horror and embarrassment.

She sits down on the bed. "John. You said to me, long ago, that you had no desire to bring our child into a life like the one you had. Well, guess what? I think that would be impossible. You tell me you love me because I bring you joy and openness. Well, John, that didn't come out of nowhere."

I guess it wouldn't have, would it?

"Yes, we can be crude, and get carried away, and we probably violate noise levels in every municipality in the contiguous 48 states when we're together...but love in this family is open, and honest, and fun."

"Fun is...sort of a strange concept." Byerses not only do not celebrate, we do not have fun. So to speak.

"Well, get used to it, you're about to be subject to lots more of it." She's finished dressing, and she looks positively glowing. She flings her arm over my shoulder-when she wears two-inch heels, we're the same height, and she is doing just that now. "C'mon, handsome. Let's go meet our public."

I am NEVER going to get used to this.
 

FROHIKE:

Martha is already at my place when I return.

"Mel, you're supposed to be taking it easy," she reminds me. "You've been gone all day!"

"Martha, I'm fine, I assure you."

And I am. I feel fine-still more tired than usual, but otherwise, not too bad.

Especially when I'm snuggled up with her. I feel VERY good then.

"Mel, you need to start taking care of yourself more. I mean it."

I know she means it.

I am taking care of myself. I do eat breakfast, and not junky stuff (I've given up cold pizza and leftover cheesesteak), and every morning, I go walking. If she's not working, she accompanies me. I was resistant to this at first-my leg is still bothersome where the vein was stripped-but I acquiesced. This morning, however, I was in something of a hurry and wasn't
able to do this.

"Look, tomorrow morning, we'll walk, I'll eat right, I promise." I do.

She only looks partially mollified. "You've never watched a spouse die, have you?"

"Well, I did have someone who I might have considered marrying die suddenly."

"Which is tragic and sad, Mel. But watching someone suffer and decline...no thank you. I've been there, done that. I don't care to go through it again."

"Martha, love, that's not going to happen." And it's not. "And you take such good care of me, there's no way it could."

"Mel, I can only take care of you as well as you take care of yourself, and lately, that's not very much. You're back working, and worrying, and taking on everyone's problems again-"

"I am not!" I'm not doing that. Really, I'm not.

"Mel. Promise me you'll take better care of yourself."

She looks at me, hands planted firmly on her ample, lovely hips, the same ones that I love to join with, body and soul...

"What do you want me to do?"

"Work less. Eat better. Remember to walk in the morning."

"Well, I'll do my best."

"No, Mel, you'll do it! What did you have for breakfast this morning?"

"I don't remember." Truthfully, I don't...I'm not sure I did eat breakfast.

"Uh-huh. Look, Mel, I don't want to fight, but I don't want to bury you, either. Please? I know you won't do it for yourself, but would you do it for me?"

There is nothing I wouldn't do for her. But sometimes, things get in the way...

"All right."

She contemplates my response. I think she was expecting something more enthusiastic and definite. But this is the best I can guarantee her.

I put my hands on her shoulders. "C'mon. We shouldn't be fighting, particularly not about me, when we've got a wedding to go to. What do you say?"

She's still thinking, not smiling, but finally, I get her to soften. "I say, you'll have to tell me what you think of my new outfit."

"Only if I can watch you put it on."

"Deal."

I love her so much...
 

MARTHA:

If he only realized how tired and drained he looks right now. He's overdoing it, and I'm worried.

If this wasn't such an important occasion, believe me, he'd be in bed right now, and he wouldn't be allowed up until tomorrow.

I also did something I probably should not have done, but could not help myself from doing.

I checked his meds-and he's not taking them consistently. The number of pills of each type he should have remaining at this point should be less than what he has. I realize I invaded his privacy on this score, and I'm uncomfortable with the fact that I did, but nearly as uncomfortable as I am with the fact that he is ignoring his care instructions. The meds are part of that.

We have to be somewhere shortly, and the only reason I have capitulated-for now-is due to the fact that this is related to Byers's wedding. However, if he thinks I'm going to put up with his self-neglect for long, he's got another thing coming.

If he would just think about the things he wants. He wants to write, to explore, to build things, to educate his children, to play with and watch his grandchildren grow up. He'll never make it at the rate he's going.

And what of us? I want to have this man in my life for a long time...a long, long time. I want to spend all...

The rest of my days with him.

And I don't want those days to be few in number.

You sure know how to pick 'em, Martha old girl, I chide myself as I slip out of my shopping clothes and down to my lingerie.

And then I see the look on his face and I say to myself, yes, you do.

I love him so much...
 

FROHIKE:

I watch her.

She pulls her soft gray sweater over her head, revealing a lace trimmed white cotton camisole underneath. This is shed and her lace bra is revealed, their bounty peeking out of the cups like some sort of wonderful treasure.

It's taking me all of my self-control not to go over and ravish her right here and now, but we need to leave soon...

And it's been so long since I've watched a woman get ready for an evening out, I'd damn near forgotten how delightful an experience it is. The whole ritual to me is arcane and utterly enchanting.

Her leggings come off, revealing teal satin panties, cut high on the legs. When she turns around, the curve of her generous, lovely ass is revealed to my eye.

The lace bra is exchanged for one in navy blue satin, and I get to enjoy the sight of her ample bosom, unencumbered, while she removes one, and selects the other. The navy satin bra is thin enough that the outline of her nipples is still obvious under the bra.

The teal panties are shed in favor of navy ones, in satin again, and I watch as they slide gently over that which makes her female. I think of myself buried in her folds and curls, and the temperature in here rises at least ten degrees.

Oh God.

She worries that I'm not healthy.

Oh, love, right now, I'm the healthiest male alive.

And I have you to thank for that.
 

ALLY:

"Jesus fuck, that sucker's tight!" I've pulled Langly's black jacket over his cast, and yes, it's not the roomiest arrangement in the world, but it's not as if he's going to be bending that arm.

He's been in a horrible mood ever since Julie came by. I could smack that bitch. She ever darkens my doorstep again, I will chase her to the ravine on the other side of the road and push her into it. It's a 40-foot drop. Should at least cause some serious damage.

And God help me if her father or brother even come within spitting distance of us. Thinking of those three makes me reconsider my position on gun ownership.

I shouldn't be thinking this kind of crap, I tell myself as I brush Langly's vanilla-gold locks till they shine. One, they're his family, like it or not. And two, more importantly, Byers is getting married tomorrow. This is his time and Juliet's, and our problems should be shelved for now.

I brush his hair longer than I really need to, but it's so clean and soft and silky right now-Aussie Slip conditioner, God's gift to fine hair-and the brushing action seems to settle him. This is also one of the rare occasions in which I get to see the top of his head.

Thinner than it was before. It's not gone, but you can see right through it.

I brush it so it looks as though he has more hair than he really does. He'll like that. To me, it's a cruel irony that Langly's one vanity is his tresses-and that's just where he's taking his first instance of middle-aged hit.

By the time I figure that if I don't stop brushing, he'll lose whatever's left up there, he's a lot calmer. He leans his head back against my chest appreciatively, murmuring lightly.

"Mmm, that's good."

"Feel better?"

"Yeah."

He wraps his good arm around me, and even minus one arm, he's still large and strong enough to pull me into his lap.

"Hey, remember night before we got married?" He asks, kissing my red curls.

"Oh yeah." As if I'd really forget something like that.

"When we went to the beach, got away from everybody, that was the best."

"Even if we made a mess of ourselves?" I giggle.

"Even if. It was just like, I kind of feel sorry for 'em right now. I mean, our wedding, it was fun and really cool and all, but like just before it happened, I was kind of wishing everybody'd just go away, you know?"

"Tell me about it." I'm the original anti-crowd woman.

"It was like, I was feeling like so overwhelmed and so crazy and it was like, after we'd gone to dinner and stuff, it was like I had to remind myself how I got here in the first place, and why, so it was like really great to go out to the beach, just with you."

"Me, I just get freaked out in crowds."

"Y'know, I usually don't. But it was like, I just needed to be reminded that I came here to get married, and I came here to get married 'cause I love the girl...I still love the girl, y'know."

"As much as I love you?"

We kiss until the kids come barging in.

Ah, romance.
 

The kids include Michael and Kelly. Michael looks positively...stunning in a suit.

"Whaddya think?" He models for me.

"You look great." And I mean it.

"Think of what he'll do for a tux tomorrow," Kelly kisses him on the lips, lightly and affectionately. I think Langly's wiping off my lip gloss right now. We kissed, affectionately, but there was nothing lightweight about it.

"I've seen him in a tux. You'll be pleased," I assure her.

"So you guys are next, huh?" Langly banters with them.

"Yeah, but not for a while," Kelly says, and to me, she sounds a bit wistful. I think if Michael asked her to run off to Vegas tonight, she'd do it.

"Allow us to give you a single word of wisdom," Langly says, as he tosses the last tissue in the trash.

"And that is?" Michael is rightfully skeptical of taking advice-especially from Langly. But I second the motion in this case.

"Elope!" We chorus together.

This causes everyone in the room to laugh, even Patrick, who hasn't got a clue what eloping is.

"Yeah, I bet Byers wishes they'd eloped now," Michael says, grinning.

"I don't think so," Kelly frowns. "Why do you say that?"

"Because, Juliet's Italian, right?"

"Half. Yeah, so?"

"Well, I'm quarter Italian...I know about Italian relatives. I were the prof, I'd be running for cover right about now."

"Can't be any worse than Jewish relatives," I say to him. I mean, there's nothing more insane than Jewish relatives. Really.

"Yeah, but prof says Juliet's got about a million of 'em...could be deadly."

Michael's totally enjoying the image of Byers being assaulted by a large group of rowdy Italians, and I have to admit, I'm amused by it as well. Then again, knowing what a WASP he is, they'll probably back off...
 

FROHIKE:

She looks positively stunning in navy.

She completes the look by adding a set of teardrop earrings, a change from the gold hoops she wears daily. And I watch as she takes a simple gold chain and unlatches the hook.

"Let me," I say to her, taking the slender strand of slightly twisted gold, glistening as bits of light catch it, gently from her fingers.

I lay it tenderly on her collarbone as I attempt to hook it. I'm a bit awkward at this, but it's such a lovely, sensual experience, and when I finish latching the necklace, I brush the back of her neck with my lips.

"Mmm." She murmurs happily. "Thank you."

"When do we have to leave?" I ask her, brushing my lips against her ear, which makes her giggle slightly.

"Hmm...I think we have just about enough time for you to get ready."

"It only takes me about five minutes."

"Not when I'm watching you."

"You want to watch...me get ready?"

She laughs tenderly. "Why are you so surprised?"

"Well, I mean..."

"Come on, Mel. I want to see you, too."

"Want to help?"
 

MICHAEL:

Ally lent me her car. Someday, I got to get something where I don't need to worry about getting stuck somewhere.

I actually opened the door for Kelly tonight. My dad saw us a couple nights ago, we were driving off, and he kicked my ass because I didn't open the door for Kelly! I mean, she's never mentioned it, but boy, he was boiled over it. I got the whole you-have-no-manners-were-you-born-in-a-barn lecture.

Course, he has no manners himself-he did this right in front of Martha! Christ, it's like he goes out of his way to embarrass me.

He better not embarrass me tonight, or I'll pop him. And I bet Martha would hold him down. She's trying to make sure he doesn't get sick again, and she's trying real hard, so what does he do? He fucking ignores her!

That's Dad for you.

Kelly looks so delicious. She had Miranda curl up her hair, just a little, and it's tied back with this ribbon, and she's got a pretty dress on, same one she wore to my mom's rehearsal dinner, and she put some lipstick or something on. She looks awesome, but I don't think she needs any makeup at all.

It's kind of weird to think that the next wedding we'll probably go to will be our own.

Unless Dad beats us to it...

Nah. He's not gonna get married again. Not a chance. He and Martha might live together eventually, but marry her? I don't think Dad wants to go through that again...

Would he?

END OF PART 88