"Connections are made slowly, sometimes they grow underground."

~~Marge Piercy -- Circles on the Water~~
______

FRIDAY, MAY 18, 2000
ON THE ROAD, PENNSYLVANIA
LATE EVENING

FROHIKE:

The Orioles usually kick ass, but tonight, their asses got kicked by the Pirates, 7-3. Humiliating. Mel's gloating. There was a series of bad calls; that umpire should be taken out and shot. I say it to Mel and she giggles, insisting the plays were properly called. We argue about interleague game rules as we wend our way back to Harrisburg, laughing all the while. I'm impressed; that woman can recite player stats with the best of them.

Talk about a wonderful evening, even if my team blew it. Perfect weather, overpriced beer, and dirty hot dogs -- it doesn't get better than that. I almost feel guilty for enjoying myself as much as I did; I should probably take her to nice places, not the ballpark. When I tell her that, she bursts into gales of laughter.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not much for putting on the dog." She smiles at me. She's clad in jeans and a Pirates T-shirt and old sneakers and her hair is tied back in a long ponytail. To me, she couldn't be more beautiful. "I like going to the ballpark."

"Some of my best memories growing up are of going to the ballpark," I confess.

"Mine too," she concurs. "My daddy took me all the time. Major league, minor league, bush league, didn't matter. Baseball was baseball. I'm nominally Catholic, but the real religion in our family was baseball." She looks over at me. "So do you and the guys; do you ever do so-called 'normal' things?"

"Actually, you'd be surprised at how much of our lives are 'normal.' We watch ballgames. We drink beer. We spend money at Home Despot." Well, that's three things, anyway. "I think the weirdness of what we encounter drives home how important it is for us to have 'normal' things in our lives, like ballgames, and holidays, and relationships."

She smiles at me sympathetically, her dark eyes sparkling. "Sounds like the relationship part has been hard."

I nod and sigh. "It has. We've avoided a lot of contact with, shall we say, the outside world. We worry a lot that our activities will compromise the people we care about, put them in danger."

"Don't you think that should be for the parties themselves to decide?" she asks archly.

"Well, I'm coming to that conclusion."

I smile hopefully, not willing to completely take my eyes off the road. I do have responsibilities here, and unlike Langly, I don't consider driving to be just another thing you do behind the wheel. Not to mention that the Chrysler hasn't enjoyed the trip nearly as much as we have. It's sounding a little cranky, in fact. I keep checking for the indicator lights, but so far, nothing is flashing.

"Sometimes things work out in the weirdest way. Our last trip to Pennsylvania was probably one of the worst experiences we've ever been through, and all these wonderful things have come of it."

"Well, watching Deborah in action, I could certainly believe that meeting Ringo was one of the highlights of her life. And they'll be in the same city soon. It's so nice." She sighs. "What I wouldn't do to get out of Dismal, Pennsylvania."

"That seems to be your favorite nickname for the place."

"If the shoe fits..." she shakes her long ponytail. "I keep thinking about packing up and starting over somewhere, someday. Of course, having my kids be self-sufficient might help."

"Maybe you should just put them on notice," I laugh.

"I think I will, someday. Right now, though, it's just not the time." She groans. "Someday I'm going to get away from Harrisburg."

I'm tempted to ask her how the surrounding areas of DC sound, but I'll let it pass. We're not at that point, either of us. In time, perhaps. I'm saddened to think that we'll have to conduct our business at a distance, but for now, that's the most viable option, and the best course for each of us. We both have kids to take care of, at least for now. Mine are growing up (wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles), but they still seem to need a father figure, and I'm it. I wonder how I'll feel when they no longer need me. It makes me feel empty just thinking about it, but the thought vanishes when I notice the noises the Chrysler's making. It's beyond cranky now; we're talking about a full-on temper tantrum about to ensue.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to pull over," I tell Mel.

"I was wondering what that noise was," she says, unfluttered. I don't think it's the beer, just the way she is.

I ease the wheezing beast off to the side of the road. Mel steps out; I tell her it's not necessary, but she offers to assist with the flashlight. Damn. There's oil all over the manifold. I think the head gasket's gone too. I say a prayer to anyone and everyone that made it possible for us to bring home  serious  funding from FPS. I'm sure as hell going to need it. This is assuming that someone out here in Bumfuck has the parts, and I'm not likely to get those until morning, even if they do.

"I can call Triple A," Mel offers.

"That, uh, might be a good idea."

She chuckles amiably. I've seen women who would fall to pieces over being stranded on a dark highway in the middle of nowhere. Not Mel, it doesn't seem to faze her in the least. I like this; it indicates that she has something approaching the nerve it'll take to be involved in the life I lead. "Y'know Melvin, used to be my dates would say they ran out of gas so we could go parking when we were in high school."

"Well, we could still go parking, you know," I wink at her.

She winks back. "It's gonna take Triple A a while to get here. Might as well keep busy, not to mention warm."

Oh yeah.

The Chrysler has its drawbacks -- it's old, it breaks down a lot, parts are getting hard to find, it sucks gas that's getting harder and more expensive to come by -- but whatever else you want to say about it, it's got the best damn back seat. Only an Eldorado has more square footage. There might, perish the thought, come a time when I'll have to replace the old beastie. Maybe an Eldo would be a good pick. Sari'd bitch at me, but I think Mel would appreciate a fine classic Cadillac.

There's a blanket in my trunk that's been washed relatively recently, if one considers January recent. Well, at least there's no blood in it. We curl up in the back seat like a couple of kids. I haven't done this since high school, but I haven't gotten any taller, either. Judging from last night, all the equipment is still in working order, which is more than I can say for the car at the moment. We shouldn't be out here that long, and after this, we can get a room.

Maybe I'll spring for something high-class, like the Red Roof Inn. My favorite is Motel 6, but hey, do I know how to treat a lady or what?

I wonder if Deborah told Mel about her night with Langly at the Belmont. If so, I'm not sure she's going to be greatly impressed by my choice, but there's something rather nice about being away from home, both of our homes, alone and unencumbered. I suppose I should call the guys, but I assume they're fine.

We lost track of time after a while. Well, what do you want, we're parking. Admittedly, we should have been paying a little more attention.

A state trooper comes by and taps on the windows, which I notice are all steamed up. So what do you expect? The lady's hot. On seeing that we're not a pair of hormonally crazed teenagers, just geezers who haven't been laid in ages, he shook his head and told us to have a nice evening.

I assured him we were. After that, we didn't resume our previous activities, but it was laughter, not embarrassment that caused it; we couldn't stop.

"Did you see the expression on his face? Was that priceless or what?" Mel is laughing so hard the words come out in gasps.

Both of us have tears running down our cheeks. I guess you had to be there. We're still laughing when Triple A finally descends upon us. We get some strange looks from the tow truck driver, but we're getting used to it, and enjoying every second of it.

He tows my car, and us, into town. I ask him what lodging is available.

"Only thing in town's a Holiday Inn," he shrugs. "Or you can go next town over and stay at Super 8."

"What do you say we go for broke," I laugh as I pull Mel close to me. I don't think any kids ever had as much fun as we did.

The Holiday Inn looks like every other Holiday Inn you've ever stayed in, but to us, it's like staying in the palace. We luck out and get a king bed. It's kinder to my back than the regular double with the ancient, if clean, mattress at the Sleepytime. Not that I noticed it very much last night, mind you. We bounce on the bed to check it out, then see if two can fit in the shower, and discover that the tub will accommodate us just fine.

"Almost makes you wish we could call room service and order up champagne," I smile at her.

"Actually, champagne makes me sick, but we've got bubble bath!" Mel's eyes are sparkling.

We spill the contents of the container into the tub and let the bubbles billow up. We slosh bubbles on the floor as we both sink in. The bubble bath hits the spot. We're relaxed and lazy in this dreamy cloud of bubbles.

I really should have checked in with the guys. It's 2:30 a.m., and probably not too late, but I'll wait until tomorrow.

SATURDAY, MAY  19, 2000
LONE GUNMEN HQ
2:30 AM

BYERS:

Today was terrible. The contractors were here installing bulletproof glass, bulletproof wall tiles, and tinted window film, while outside, a bunch of other idiots were putting bars over the windows. Yes, even the second floor and the attic. I can't feel safe with a bunch of strangers inside the house. Langly and I spent the entire day watching them intently to make sure they weren't getting snoopy.

Where the hell is Frohike, anyway? He hasn't checked in, and I fear the worst. What if he's injured or sick, or someone we don't really want to meet has been tracking him?

Langly's dismissive. "You worry too much, Byers. He's probably busy fucking his brains out," he says, not looking up.

He's still working. My eyes still tire easily, and I gave up a while ago.

"Do you always have to be so crude?" I can't believe this. I hope he's better around Deborah, but she's a physician, and crude seems to go with the territory. I swear, he'll never develop any refinement. "I'm sorry I decided to speak to you again."

"Hey, nobody's holding a gun to your head." I cringe. "Uh, sorry, dude. Bad choice of words."

"That seems to be your specialty," I remark coldly. I've been annoyed with him since last night; now I'm even more so.

He snaps off the monitor. "Y'know, Byers, you seriously need to get laid."

My jaw drops. I'm so taken aback by his comment that I can't even come up with a snappy rejoinder. How dare he? I'm going to get even with him for that one -- after Sari gets home. Only 11 more hours.

HOLIDAY INN
BUMFUCK PENNSYLVANIA

FROHIKE:

"So tell me about your boys," Mel says dreamily, after going on about her kids. She loves them more than life itself, but it's quite apparent that they make her crazy. I understand perfectly.

"Well, there's Byers. You haven't met him, but if there's a babe magnet in the house, it's him."

"I doubt that, but go on." She giggles, sliding gently into the crook of my shoulder.

"He has terrible taste in clothes. Suits, I mean. Who the hell wears suits?"

"Nobody in the hospital, that's for sure," she laughs.

"He's really a great guy, but he's been through a lot of hell this year, what with getting his eye mangled and everything."

I didn't said anything about Susanne when I told her about our January fiasco. I mentioned her when I told Mel how the three of us came together, but I'd prefer not to dwell on her. I think Byers would appreciate that.

"Is he involved with anyone? You haven't said."

"Well, I wouldn't say involved. He's become very good friends with a woman that he met a few months ago, and the friendship seems to have done them both good. I wouldn't mind seeing them get together."

"Well, how do they feel about it?"

"I think they're both really battle weary right now. This is a hard time for both of them. They're both very skittish about getting involved with anyone; he's terminally  shy to begin with, and she has a very abusive ex-husband. He used to beat her up really badly. The bastard tried to kill her and Byers last time he got near her." I sigh. It was awful, but it's over now, thank God.

"Seen 'em. Hate 'em. Think they should all be castrated." I cross my legs protectively at the idea, though I know it wasn't aimed at me. "We see way too much of that in the ER. And what's sad is that so often these women have no choice but to go home to them again, only to turn up in the ER again and again." She closes her eyes. "That's the discouraging part of what I do. People never learn."

"They are a stubborn lot, aren't they? My boys are no exception. Langly's more visceral, more openly obnoxious, but Byers can be just as resolute in his unwillingness to let go of something." Like Susanne, for example. "Of course, that can work both ways. His perseverance is either going to be the death of him or his salvation." I hope it's the latter.

"I've had the same thing said for me," she chuckles.

"Langly... up until recently, he's been such a child in so many ways. He's getting over some of that, though I hope he never loses it all; it's part of his charm."

"From what you've described, it sounds really unlikely."

"I think there's a better chance of an asteroid slamming Philadelphia in the next hour. He's a good kid, really. And he really loves Deborah."

"And she loves him. My God, of all people, I never thought I'd see it happen to her, but when she fell, she fell hard. It's been fun to watch." She giggles. "Of course, it's more fun to live out your own fantasies."

"Oh, what kind of fantasies?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Sitting in bubble bath... relaxing... not a care in the world... with someone I really care about."

"Well, I'm grateful to be of service in fulfilling your fantasy." I kiss the top of her head. The bubbles are dying, and I can see her long hair pooling around her in the water.

"Oh, that's not my only fantasy," she chuckles.

I grin. "And what would your others be?"

"Let's get dried off and I'll tell you all about them." Need she say it twice? I think not.

EARLY AFTERNOON

After several hours and far too much money, the Chrysler's ready to roll. Once again, I praise whoever and whatever made FPS profitable.

We don't head back to Harrisburg immediately, however; Mel knows a state park on the way back. We stop at a local supermarket, get lunch to go, and veer off the highway for an impromptu and rather romantic picnic.

I'm so glad she doesn't care about clothes, makeup, or fancy things. She seems to be comfortable with all the same things I am. We talk about books and discover that we both like the same novelists, who tend to be writers of popular fiction in the mystery and horror genres. Byers would wince, and I'm sure Sari would as well, but Mel doesn't seem the least bit self-conscious about what she calls her rather lowbrow tastes. I simply consider it being entertained myself.

We love action adventure movies and romantic comedies, and both of us harbor a secret adoration of 1930's and 40's musicals. While sipping our beer, we sing show tunes, laughing between verses, each filling in lyrics the other can't remember. She tells me I sing well. I disagree, but it doesn't stop me from indulging in some musical theater Tourette's. I can't recall the last time I felt this relaxed and comfortable.

Reluctantly, we head on to Mel's home. It's been so wonderful that I almost can't bear the idea of it ending. Mel assures me we will have many more weekends like this -- or weekdays, depending on when we can get away. I feel the tears rising in my eyes as she says it.

The Chrysler purrs nicely on the trip back, much to my great surprise and pleasure. The journey back to her place, like everything else about this vacation, has been languid and idyllic. Then we reach her house, and reality comes crashing back.

"Where the hell were you?" Lisa demands as her mother enters.

"We went to Pittsburgh and had car trouble," Mel says, matter of factly.

"Oh, I bet. You ever heard of calling?"

"I have. How about you? When was the last time you called to let me know where you were?" Mel never loses her cool. I'd love to have her control.

"But you're the mom, it's different!"

"Well," Mel looks her over, "one thing that's definitely different is that when I get dressed after a close encounter, I don't put my shirt on inside out."

Lisa looks down, horrified. It's quite obvious, even to me, that her shirt's not on properly. She scurries from the room.

"Speaking of calling," Mark snaps, never looking up, "some guys named Langly and Byers are driving me insane -- they're like calling here every hour looking for some guy named Frohike."

"That would be me," I assure him.

"Fuck. And I thought it was a prank caller. I was gonna call Allegheny Tel."

"Oh, sure you were. That would involve effort, sweetheart," Mel smiles acidly at her son.

"Hey, y'know, you took off and there's no food around here!" Mark protests.

"You're quite capable of a trip to the supermarket."

"Yeah, but with what money?" he whines. I'd love to whomp him. He makes Langly and Byers look like angels.

"Mark, dear, three little words. Get a job." She whispers the last three, as if imparting some profound secret wisdom. She never loses her smile until both children are safely out of earshot. "I have this recurring nightmare that they're going to be living here when they're fifty," she groans.

"You talked about moving away."

She smiles at me broadly. "And someday I will."

We're interrupted by the phone ringing. Lisa and Mark, needless to say, make no effort to pick up. Mel excavates the phone from under a pile of crap that's newly sprung up in the last day.

"It's for you." She hands it to me.

"Yes?"

"Frohike, where are you, man? Like you've just about been giving Byers a nervous breakdown!"

I laugh. "So put him on and let me finish the job."

"Can't. He went to the airport."

"Ah, our dear Miss Sari is back in town."

"Thank God for small favors. When are you coming home?"

"Tomorrow."

"Good."

"Did you really miss me that much, Langly?"

"No, but like at this point, you don't get here and Byers may not live much longer!"

"He'll calm down now that Sari's here."

"He better. Swear to God, Fro, he needs to do the wild thing big time."

"Goodbye, Langly. I'm hanging up now." I'm not going there. Not unless it's with Mel, anyway.

She smiles at me. "Think they'll ever grow up?"

Well, they've been showing some signs, but ultimately -- "Nah."

End part 5