Classification: TRHA

Rating: PG-13 for mild allusions to sexual situations.

Summary: Lydia's still out in the ozone. Mulder and Scully have a new set of problems. But the house...

Spoilers: Tiny one from "Unusual Suspects." And I mean really tiny.

Disclaimer: I consider it fortuitous that at the moment I began to write this disclaimer, I broke the third lawn chair of the day (and I don't weigh that much!). So maybe I shouldn't be disclaiming this at all, but what the hell. Property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television.
 

"'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope."

Jeremiah 29:11, New American Standard Version
 

Tsamach

September 25, 1999

We never did get to go away that weekend in August. With Byers (and the girls) leaving for South Carolina, and Frohike planning a drive to New Jersey, Langly was given the honor of sticking around and taking care of business, an honor he accepted very grudgingly and not without a great deal of sulking.

"I REALLY wanted to go camping," he had complained for weeks on end.

The girls had totally enjoyed their respite on Hilton Head Island, and Kat was taken with them enough that she invited them to come visit the following summer. I had not yet met her in person, but phone conversations with her revealed her to be a warm, caring person, more outgoing than her reserved older brother, whom she clearly adored. Byers came back from the trip the most relaxed I'd ever seen him, with a mild sunburn and fistfuls of photos.

There had been no word from or about Lydia. The case was moving very slowly, and even with the help of Mulder, Ellen, Mark, and even some grudging assistance from Jeffrey Spender, things were frustratingly motionless. It was like being caught in the Sargasso Sea. Dead calm all around, and I began to fear more and more that dead might be the operative word.

I had plenty to occupy my time and my mind, however. Langly and I both began working, and we were constantly jamming to stay caught up. I ended up with two students, not one, which was a blessing financially but timewise a nightmare. Every night I was leaving DC during rush hour. I didn't care for Joanna, my boss, whom I found to be arrogant, paternalistic and condescending (as Langly said, "Tell us what you really think, Ally!"), but I didn't have to deal with her much. My two students, Iris Kelton and Paul Avignon, were a delight, though, and we as they shared my opinion of Joanna, we would gossip cruelly behind her back. It was delicious.

And we bought a house. We had seen about thirty houses, and they were all beginning to run into each other. I wasn't that choosy-a number of them would have been acceptable to me-but to my surprise Langly was shockingly fussy about what he wanted. The place had to have the proper 'gestalt,' and for most of the places we visited, it wasn't happening for him. In  addition to the proper gestalt, he demanded a certain amount of space, a location that was private, at least four bedrooms, and the best interest rate available. For a guy who'd never owned a home, and had never had any money, he'd been surprisingly caught up in the very capitalistic process of real estate. I suspected the realtor who dealt with us vowed to take up something calm, like neurosurgery, when she had completed our transaction. He was the client from hell.

However, his squawking paid off nicely. We found a four bedroom, two bath rustic in an older neighborhood. Only one side of the street was inhabited, and the lots were large. The lot was fenced and was built into the side of a hill. The house was not in the best shape I'd ever seen, but it wasn't a wreck, either, and it had wonderful natural light. It had a monstrous four-car garage behind the house, and the owners had installed a spa, which was currently not operational but could be made to be so.  It was in the same school district that Miranda was currently enrolled in. It had been uninhabited for sometime. I worried that the $320,000 that we were offering was going to be far too low, but Langly insisted that he wasn't going to pay more, and after a lot of haggling, we got the house for that price (off its list of $355,000, which had already included two price reductions). I wasn't sure what my mother's reaction was going to be when she found out that she was going to have to write a check for $200,000, which is what she needed to put down in order that we could qualify, but she didn't even blink. Must be nice to be able to write checks with that many zeros and not even flinch. We put the money I had from the sale of my house on the west coast towards the closing costs. We now had a place to live and I had the prospect of owing the IRS off my back.

"This is the coolest house in the world." He was like a little kid who had gotten exactly what he wanted for Christmas. My only serious complaint with it was that the dishwasher didn't work, and Frohike, bless him, remedied that.

We had negotiated the deal while Miranda was at Hilton Head, and while she was initially totally pissed off at being left out of the decision making process, she came around to the house fairly quickly. She particularly liked that two of the bedrooms were off the basement, and she could have her privacy. She and Shelby conspired to make that area of the house their own.

It was late at night on the day we had moved into the house. We'd hired professionals to move the place, but there's no getting around the huge amount of work needed even if you hire out. We were exhausted, and we had just shoved Byers and Frohike out the door after a feast of pizza and beer.

"I can't believe we have as much crap as we do," I moaned.

"I can." Langly was cross-legged on the sofa, having a beer, and I was sitting on the floor below him, nursing my own.

"D'you know that Eric and I lived in the same house for ten years, and when I moved out here, we still had boxes we never unpacked?"

"So what'dya do with 'em?"

"Dragged 'em here, of course!" We laughed. He coughed. He'd managed to come down with a cold the week he started working at the Pentagon, and he'd get better for a while, and then it would come back. "You okay?"

"Surviving. God, I love this house!" He coughed some more.

"Did you take any Robitussin?"

"Can't find it. Don't know where it's packed."

"That's because it's in my purse."

"Then I'll never find it." The first time he lifted my purse, he was astonished at how much it weighed. "I can't believe you can find anything in there."

"I can find everything. That's my life packed in there." I walked over to the end table where I'd dropped my purse and began to rummage through it. Eventually I stumbled upon a plastic bag containing an 8-ounce bottle and a spoon. "Here. Drink up. How many bottles of that stuff have you gone through so far?"

"Not sure. Two or three?"

"I think you're not supposed to use it for more than a week."

"Yeah, but then I just hack all over everything, and I can't sleep."

"Get some prescription stuff."

"Can't. Scully's laid up."

"You do have health insurance now. And she can refer you, I'm sure."

"Ah, it'll go away. You're starting to sound like Frohike."

"Just so long as I'm not starting to look like him." We giggled. "Seriously, you sound like shit."

"Thank you, Ally."

"You're welcome. And you do. You've been sick for a month now."

"Not the whole time."

"Yeah, and as soon as you get better, you relapse. You trying to set a new land speed record here?"

"More like an endurance one. Jesus, Ally, it's just a cold! It'll go away! Don't be such a Jewish mother."

"You forget, Langly, I am a Jewish mother."

"Oh, yeah. So you are."

"Stealing away my birthright is something you do at your own peril."

"What, you have a birthright to nag?"

"Yes, I do. And to worry. And don't forget complaining, although I think you've got me beat in that department."

"I do not complain!" He protested.

"Only all the time."

"You're wrong."

"Whatever." I grinned. This was not a winnable argument. He started up a storm of coughing again. It was starting to sound pretty nasty, wet and harsh.

"I think you ought to not let this cold go."

"Didn't we just have this discussion?"

"We did. And you blew me off."

"I did not! I just told you not to sweat it. It'll go away. Really." He put his hand over my shoulder. "Besides, don't we have something we need to do?"

"At this hour?" It was pushing midnight.

"Yeah. We haven't christened the place yet."

I looked up at him and smiled. "Y'know, you're right. Feeling up to it?"

He grinned back. "Oh, yeah."
 

What made it special was being in a room that had never belonged to just one of us. It was really our room, and it had a certain warmth to it that we hadn't experienced anywhere else.

"This is great," he murmured when we were done. He then launched into another coughing spasm. I stroked his back until it subsided.

"Feels like...home." I snuggled up to him.

"So this is what home is like." He was really raspy from coughing now. "Works for me."

"Me, too. I don't think I've said it much, but I love you, Langly."

"Mmm. Love you too." He stroked my hair, and then lurched into another coughing fit.

"Try to get some sleep. Maybe you'll feel better tomorrow."

"Maybe the cough'll get better. Me, I feel fine." He closed his eyes and drifted off, and I leaned into him. Time to let concerns float away...
 

September 26, 1999

The animals may not have recognized their new environment, but they did not lose their timetable. By 7:00 a.m., they had all made their way into my room and demonstrated their displeasure with not being fed. I crept out of bed, leaving Langly to hopefully pull down a few more hours' sleep. He'd woken up constantly last night, hacking away.

Fortunately, we'd had a lot of help yesterday, and the pantry had been stocked. I fed the critters and put on the coffeemaker. Now if I could only find the mugs...

I opened several of the cabinets in search of coffee mugs. I finally opened one where there was a set of four mugs, emblazoned with a flying saucer and "I Want to Believe" written on them. One of them contained a note written in a tiny, cramped hand.

"I want to believe you guys will be as happy as Scully and me. Happy Housewarming! Mulder." I was touched. Mulder hadn't been able to stay long, but he did help, and he always did sweet, surprising things.

I washed out the mugs and broke in the first one. Things always taste better with love, I thought, so this should be a hell of a good cup of coffee. I grabbed an ashtray, and walked outside to see if the paper had been delivered. A good omen: It was on the walkway.

The house was quiet; Miranda and Shelby, who was by now as close to a permanent fixture as one could get without taking up legal residence, were asleep in their 'penthouse' in the basement. We tried explaining that penthouses are customarily the top floor, but they weren't having it. Langly seemed to have gotten some relief; I didn't hear any noise from our room. The animals had been fed and had no need to be noisy and obnoxious. It was the quintessential peaceful Sunday morning, which made it all the more jarring when my old enemy, the phone, broke into the reverie.

It was Frohike. "Good morning, my dear. I'm sorry to bother you so early, but I thought you should know that Dana is in the hospital."

"Oh shit." My heart sank. She was going into her eighth month soon. She was so close...

"What happened?" I asked, catching my breath.

"Well, she's gone into labor. They've stopped it for now, and she's going to be in the hospital from now until she delivers."

I paled. "She's not due until November."

"I know. They're trying to stretch it out as long as they can."

"Are you at the hospital, Frohike?"

"No. Mulder called me a short time ago to let me know. I just wanted to pass the word on to you and Langly. How's the boy, by the way?"

"Coughing like mad, and won't do anything about it except drink Robitussin."

"He should be better already." Frohike was gruff, but obviously concerned. "See what you can do about him, my dear."

"I've tried. He's hopeless. He'd just better not go and die on me, because I can't afford this place on my own!" We both laughed. "Seriously, I think we've just been so busy, and maybe now that we've moved-"

"He should still do something about it. Don't make excuses for him. He's just plain pigheaded, and we both know it."

"Yeah, I know. You going over to the hospital today?"

"I am. And you?"

"Yeah, I'll head over there. How's Mulder?"

"Upset, but in relation to the last incident which sent the lovely Dana Scully to the hospital, he's much better." I breathed a small sigh. Dealing with an upset Mulder was not my favorite challenge.

"I just hope nothing else...goes wrong."

"My dear, this is Mulder and Scully, king and queen of things gone wrong. But somehow, I trust this child will be all right."

"I hope so, too, Frohike."

"And don't let Langly go with you. She doesn't need any additional problems at this point."

"Yes, Mom." I teased.

"Take care of him, my dear. He needs you."

And I need him, I thought as we cut the connection. And not just for the fucking mortgage.
 

The kids came wandering up the stairs around 10, looking for cereal. I told Miranda the news about Dana. She asked if she could accompany me, and I assured her she could, particularly in view of the fact that Langly couldn't go with me.

"Where is the lazy bum, anyway?" She scanned around.

"Sleeping. And don't wake him up."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"Fun in what?" A tired-looking, raspy voiced blonde, dressed in a Dead Kennedys T-shirt and a pair of cutoffs appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing the glasses he'd bought last month: they had wire frames, and I had the constant mad urge to jump him when he wore them, which was most of the time. As if it could have gotten worse from the way it was before...

"Did you die and somebody forgot to bury you?" Miranda studied him.

"Maybe. Hey." He leaned over and kissed the top of my head.

"Oh God, PDA!" Shelby and Miranda howled.

"Scram, you two," I grinned at them and flicked my thumb towards the doorway. I poured him some coffee and pushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. "How're you holding up?"

"I'm okay. You?"

"I hate moving. I'm just really tired."

"Yeah, but isn't this place the greatest?"

"Yes, it is. I've got some bad news, though."

"Lydia?"

"No, Dana. She went into labor, and now she's in the hospital.

"She's not having the kid yet? She's got a ways to go, I thought."

"About another eight weeks. They've been able to stop her labor, but she's now stuck in the hospital until the kid is ready to pop."

"Bummer deal." He started coughing again. "Guess we'd better go see her."

"Uh, negative on the we," I informed him. "Whatever you've got, Dana doesn't need it right now."

"Hey, it's not like I was gonna breathe on her with this or anything!"

"Frohike says you can't go."

"Who the fuck is Frohike to tell me that?"

"Humor him. You know how he worries, especially where kids are concerned."

"Yeah, yeah. All right. I've got stuff to do here, anyway. Send her my regards and all that." This meant he would be playing electronics wizard all day. "Is Frohike gonna help me with this?"

"He didn't say when he called, but he didn't say he wouldn't. He's up. Call him."

"Yeah, yeah. What room're you starting in?"

"Probably our room. Work my way out."

"Whatever works."

"Right now, I just wish the box fairy would come and unpack all these. Honestly, I'll be delighted if I never again feel unusual ecstasy at finding a fabulous source for cardboard boxes." We laughed.

"Hey, I like this place. I'm never moving away from it." Langly was already intensely attached to the house.

I didn't say it, but I was thinking of something my friend Robyn once said: If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.

September 26, 1999

I decided midafternoon that I'd had enough unpacking. I'd unpacked all day and felt as if I had barely made a dent. I was really wishing there was a box fairy.

Langly, Frohike and Byers were squabbling about the best way to wire up the place to suit their needs, how to lay it out, where to put everything, etc., etc. The girls now had the downstairs in its 200th reincarnation, and I figured it was as good a time as any to sneak out and visit Dana. Frohike had gone before he came over; he said she looked rather puffy, but was
otherwise okay.

Unfortunately, 'puffy' was too mild a word. Poor Dana had swelled up considerably since I had seen her two weeks prior. She was very edemic, and with IV fluids constantly circulating through her, she was not likely to look much better soon. The coppery hair was the main reason I recognized her. And Mulder sitting there, signing with her, fussing over her, kidding her and reassuring her. He'd toughened up since the incident in July. I'm sure he was frightened as hell, but right now, he seemed to be totally there just for Dana.

"Hey, it's another short redhead. How're you doing, Allison?" Mulder signed to me.

"Fine." I reached over to give Dana a quick hug. She looked rather tired, but she wasn't looking so distraught as she had during the last hospitalization. "Thanks for the mugs, Mulder. Those were awesome."

"There's a great head shop on M Street that carries a bunch of that stuff." Dana looked at him quizzically. He was signing as he spoke, but when he came to this sentence, he had put his hands down. She smacked him in the arm.

I reiterated Mulder's words to her, and she signed to him, "Mulder? What the hell did you do now? I told you to get a housewarming gift!"

"He did," I reassured her. "I loved it. I'll think of you guys whenever I have coffee." And considering we virtually existed on the stuff these days, that would be frequently.

"So where is your partner in crime?" Dana inquired.

"Got a cold. I made him stay home. He and Byers and Frohike are putting all the toys together anyway."

"He's had that cold for a while," Dana commented.

"Yeah, tell him that."

"I've got a friend from JH that practices internal medicine in Alexandria. I'll give you his name. Mulder, hand me my address book in my purse, would you?" Mulder obliged, and he had the same reaction that Langly had to picking up my purse.

"Scully, what do you have in there, for God's sake?"

"Everything," she retorted. "And it's only going to get worse once the baby is born." I was cheered by her faith.

In spite of being in a hospital room, with Dana hooked up to IV's, I found this scene to be a pleasant surprise. They were strong in their faith in each other. They were bantering as they usually were. They had grown so strong together.

"Here." She flipped through her book until she found the alphabetical listings she wanted. "Daryl Bergman. He's a great guy. Drag him there."

"Easier said than done."

"Allison, let me tell you something," Dana signed vigorously. "I've got the king of doctor avoiders for my husband."

"And how much success do you have with him?"

She sighed. "Basically, unless he's dying, none."

"I'll give him the name. Thanks, Dana."

"Scully, are you casting aspersions upon me?" He was giving her his best wounded puppy look.

"No, Mulder," she had a severe expression on her face. "I'm just marveling at the stupidity of males. And the last time I checked, you were one."

"Maybe you'd better make sure I still am," he lifted his eyebrows and leered.

"Mulder," she shot at him, "behave."

"Scully, all I've done in recent history is behave!" He gave a martyred look.

"And isn't it amazing? You're not dead yet. Although," she reminded him, "you've come dangerously close several times."

"You didn't bring your gun, did you, Dana?"

"No. It's a decision I may come to regret. Particularly when it's dinnertime here."

"Tell you what. I'll bring you something if you want."

She gave me a pleading look. "Make it chocolate."

"No caramels, they hurt my dental work," Mulder caroled out.

Dana turned to me conspiratorially. "Make sure there're LOTS of caramels in there. And coconut. He hates coconut."

"Not much in the mood to share, are you, Dana?" I chuckled.

"You could say that. Every time somebody brings me chocolate, he eats it all! I want some of my own!"

"Tell you what. I'll bring you a box of your favorites, and I'll bring some goodies for Mulder so he'll leave yours alone."

"As a strategy, it's worth a try. How's your new house? Mulder says it's a great house."

"It's pretty neat. It was built in 1924, so it's pretty old."

They both laughed. "Allison, you are such a California girl. Anything that's 75 years old here is ONLY 75 years old. It was practically built yesterday!" Mulder was having fun at my expense. Oh well. I certainly amused myself at his.

"We need to start thinking about buying one," Dana commented. "We've been somewhat...otherwise occupied, though."

"Your new place is bigger." We'd helped them move into a two-bedroom in their building at the end of August.

"It's not going to be big enough for long. And I'd really love to have a house," Dana stated.

"Think you'll stay in Annapolis?"

"I don't know. My mom is in Annapolis, which simplifies child care somewhat...we'll have to wait and see what happens."

"Where is your mom?"

"She's gone out for a while. Thank God. She's wonderful, but sometimes she gets to be a bit...much."

"I hear you on that." Fifteen minutes of my mother could be a bit much under certain circumstances.

"So like when are you guys gonna do the deed and make it legal?" Mulder asked. "Enquiring minds want to know."

"Y'know, what with all the stuff with Lydia, and buying the house and all, we haven't even discussed a date."

"Yeah. I'm working on the situation with your sister-in-law. But we can save that for another time." He didn't sign this line. "Did Ellen come by yesterday?"

"Ellen and Dave and the wild hellions they call children. Ellen's a kick."

"Ellen's really doing a great job."

"She's looking pretty tired."

"We're all tired." Mulder shook his head. "Too much life. Not enough hours."

"I'd agree on that."

"I'm cutting back on my work schedule right now. Skinner's already agreed to it. Ellen's going to be the point of contact when I'm not available."

"Spender's not going to like that."

"He'll just have to deal with it, won't he?" Mulder grinned. Then he turned sober. "Fact is, Ellen is probably far better suited to run the division than I am."

"Ellen is a better administrator," Dana agreed. "That's not your strong suit, Mulder. But she doesn't have your knowledge base and your experience in the division."

"She's getting there, though," Mulder reminded her. "And Ellen's not afraid to say she doesn't know something, which is always valuable. And sometimes saves your ass."

"How's Mark doing?"

"Smullen? He's a quiet one. Efficient. Not particularly colorful, but he gets the job done. He's a good balance for Ellen."

The monitors hooked up to Dana made their various and sundry electronic noises.

"How's the little one?" I asked.

"Well, so far, he or she seems to be maintaining. No signs of severe distress. Thank God." Dana looked immensely relieved, as did Mulder. "The ultrasound looks fine so far." She was trying to stay in clinical mode and avoid mother mode as much as possible.

"I'm glad." And I was. This baby meant everything to Mulder and Scully. They'd been through so much, for so long...they needed and deserved this child. I'd have to remember them in my prayers on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. They deserved some special ones.

"Everything still going well at CU?" Dana asked me.

"So far, it's a really nice job. Don't care much for my boss, but I don't have to deal with her much. I like the kids a lot, though."

"I'm happy for you," she said. "Everything...it's so strange. I felt so terrible when you were let go. I really didn't expect to ever be working in the X-files again. And now that we're back...I don't know."

"We're not making any decisions at this point," Mulder advised. "We're just examining some...extreme possibilities." He smiled.

"Right now, I think the most extreme possibility is my ever getting my blood pressure back down," Dana signed. "Except maybe for all the weight I'll need to lose once this baby is born." She grinned ruefully. "Thank you for coming. I really appreciate it."

"Next time I'll bring chocolate," I promised.

"Remember, nothing he likes," she smiled evilly.
 

"WHAT...HAVE...YOU...DONE...TO...MY...HOUSE?!"

I would like to mention at this time that I am not a screamer. I do get testy, but I keep the volume down below a roar as a matter of principle.

This time I abandoned my principles.

Not that it did any good. Langly, Byers and Frohike were engaged in a heavy debate that sounded as if it related to something electrical, and my sudden increase in volume was completely drowned out.

"Are you out of your mind?" Frohike was waving a finger at Langly, scolding him far more sharply than I had ever heard him before. "Do it like that, and your lovely abode will be a small pile of ashes!"

"And if we do it your way, it'll be unlikely to get done sometime within the next century!" Langly shot back. "And I'd like to point out that none of us has won the Power Bowl yet!"

"Look, let's work out-" Byers was trying to keep the discussion calm, but I could see a flush of color on his pale face.

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. Dead silence. Byers looked baffled, Frohike looked upset, and Langly looked as if he'd been busted. Which he had.

I surveyed the damage to the second bedroom upstairs. One wall was already nearly removed. There was wiring lying loose on the floor, and the boxes that had been moved in there were semi-unpacked. The place looked like a war zone. I crossed my arms, returned to my normal speaking volume, and walked slowly over to where my fiance was standing. He looked over  to his two associates with an expression that said, "I am totally fucked. Bail me out now."

"Ringo Patrick Langly," I hissed, using his full name, "would you mind telling me what the fuck is going on here?"

"We're having some problems deciding how to bring the place up to our power requirements," Byers stated as calmly as if he were discussing the weather, that decimating newly-purchased real property was something people did every day of the week.

"For what?" I demanded.

"Well, our power demands tend to be rather intense, and this is an older home-" Byers went on explaining.

"Whoa. What power demands?"

Frohike and Byers shot a look at Langly. "Langly, are you going to tell me that you did not discuss this matter with your fiancee?" demanded Frohike.

"Uh-"

Byers seemed to be in charge of damage control. "I'm sorry, Ally. I guess I simply assumed that Langly would have discussed this with you-"

"Discussed WHAT?"

"Well, we've got this really cool place, and spare rooms, and a huge garage, and we only have one car-" Langly started up.

"And you need to get one," I reminded him severely.

"Yeah, I know, whatever. We just thought it would be sort of cool to move the offices out to the 'burbs. Y'know, free rent and all." He shrugged.

I eyed Byers and Frohike, and took Langly by the arm. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I have to kick my fiancee's ass." I led him into our bedroom and closed the door.

"Did I do something wrong here?" He looked at me quizzically. And he calls me clueless.

"Langly. Did I miss something?"

"What?"

"Langly. When did you make the decision to move the offices on to our property?"

"Well, we sorta talked about it last week, and when Byers and Frohike helped us move in, we figured out we had the room, and we'd start on it so we wouldn't be out of commission too long."

"And when did you plan on telling me about this?"

"You gotta problem with it?" He looked really annoyed. Too bad. I had him whipped in that department.

"Langly, I don't have a problem with having the offices here. What I DO have a problem with is that you just ASSUMED it was going to be all right with me, and you didn't even think to ask! I would like to point out that my name is on the deed as well as yours!"

"Well, are you gonna have a problem with it?" he demanded.

"You're not listening to me!"

"I am so! What are you so mad about, anyway?"

"I am very upset that my husband-to-be did not bother to let me know that he planned a major renovation on a property we just purchased and moved into, particularly in view of our current cash flow situation!"

"Well, Byers is gonna do most of the financing, and it's a business thing, it's not coming out of our money," he justified.

"Good, because we are not in a position to afford it right now! God Langly," I sank down on the bed, "I'm perfectly okay with the idea that the offices are on the premises. I mean, we may actually get to see one another once in a while, which we really haven't lately." Which was true. We'd see each other leave for work and come home from work and go to bed. Since he had been working at the Pentagon and at TMB, he frequently was not home until very late, and I was packed down with work hours and child care.

"What I am NOT okay with is the idea that you don't think you have to consult with me!"

"God, Ally, you can be such a control freak!"

"I am NOT a control freak!"

"Then what's the problem?" He was honestly baffled. If I hadn't been so upset, it would have been amusing.

"The problem is, Langly, you're not a bachelor anymore! Quit acting like one!"

He started up with another coughing spasm. I shook my head. "Babe, that really sounds nasty."

"Don't start, okay?" He held up a hand.

"I'm not starting! Look, Langly, there's a phrase in Hebrew, and it roughly translates out to 'I am my beloved, and my beloved is me.'

"What, so now I don't have a life of my own?" he snapped.

"No, I did not say that. I think the meaning of it is, what you do affects me, what I do affects you, and very deeply. That's always the way I took it."

"Oh." He looked down at his feet. I think he was embarrassed.

"Look, I'm sorry I went off on you. I just saw the place ripped to shreds, and you guys arguing...and I didn't know what to think. If you'd told me, I'd know what to expect and I wouldn't go ballistic."

"I don't see what the problem is if you were going to say yes anyway," he protested.

"I'd like to know how you knew I would say yes!" I spat out the word 'knew.'

"Well, you like the guys and all-"

"Langly, I love the guys. They're some of the best friends a person could ask for.   And I'm happy to have them set up shop in my backyard, if that's what you all want. But I do expect you to keep me informed on little things like this!"

"Hey, if I thought you were gonna have a hissy fit over it, I wouldn't have bothered." He was getting snappish again.

"I don't like being kept in the dark! Do you hear me! I've been kept in the dark like a fucking mushroom all my life, people feeding me bullshit or not telling me jack! It's getting very old!"

"What have I ever kept from you?" he demanded harshly.

"This, for one. And you still haven't told me shit about what you know about Eric."

"You didn't ask! Am I supposed to read your mind!"

"Apparently you think you can! You think you could tell me as much as you did, make all kinds of allusions to things, and not think I'm curious? Get real!"

"I just figured since you didn't ask, you-"

"Hello! Are you listening to me?" I shook my hair in frustration. "I'm asking you to talk to me once in a while, goddamit!"

"I do talk to you!"

"Yeah, you talk to me. Right."

"Hey, it's not like we both haven't been a little busy lately, just in case you didn't notice!" He shot the words out at me.

"Does that give you the right to make decisions behind my back?"

"I didn't do anything behind your back! I wouldn't do it if I thought you were gonna get so damn pissed off! Apparently I was wrong!"

"You are not hearing a word I say! I am not pissed off about your doing this. I'm pissed off that you think you can do whatever you want and not consult with me on it!"

"Oh, so now I have to check in with you on everything." He dripped sarcasm.

"Langly, I don't care what you have for lunch, how you spend your walking around money, or what computer crimes you commit in your free time! I am asking for a little cooperation on major projects, and this, my dear, is a major project!"

"It's not gonna take us that long! We figure by the end of the week, if we work at it."

"I think you're being overly optimistic."

"And since when have you done this sort of work? Ally, I've never even seen you pick up a screwdriver, so how the fuck would you know how long something takes?"

"I don't know, it just seems so massive!"

"And you looked at all our stuff and you almost burst out crying 'cause you thought that not everything would fit! Jesus, Ally, you've got no sense of perspective!"

"Don't lecture me about perspective. I'm having trouble holding on to what little I have left."

 You've been flipping out ever since we made an offer on this place! And you bought a house before, not me! God, how'd you ever get through it the first time!"

"My friend Robyn once asked me if I wanted to do real estate again or go through another pregnancy. You know what kind of trouble I've had having kids-and I chose the pregnancy without hesitation!"

That made him laugh. "Yeah, it's been sort of a bitch, hasn't it?"

"You could say that." I sank down on the bed and felt a few tears leak into my eyes. I choked on them hard. He started coughing up a storm again. "Jesus, Langly, I'm getting fucking worried about you! What if you've got pneumonia or something?"

"Well, it's not like I'm gonna die from it or something." He shrugged his shoulders. "Besides, I've got too much to do to be sick right now."

"Oh, give me a fucking break!"

"Hey, don't give me a lecture, she-who-runs-herself-into-the ground!"

"I do not!"

"Ally, half the time you're sick, you're not even aware of it, you're so fucking worried that the world's not gonna go on without you! So don't throw it in my face!"

"I am NOT throwing it in your face! I'm asking you not to go and die on me, that's all! I've buried one husband! I don't feel like doing it twice!"

He laughed. I mean, he had the nerve to LAUGH! "Ally, you're one to talk! You smoke too damn much, for one thing! You've gotten really bad since-"

"Yeah, since Lydia vanished, and I'm sorry, but I'm really stressed! And if I start heading for the liquor cabinet when I've had a rotten day, you start in on me with both fists and feet!"

"Yeah, well, I really don't care to see the woman I care about being a drunk! And neither does your daughter!"

"Low blow, Langly." I was having a hard time not crying now. I choked harder. "I've been trying really hard, and you don't give me any credit!"

"I do so give you credit! You think this is a piece of cake for me, do you? You think I don't feel like just getting numb sometimes, too?"

"Well, you never act like it!"

"So? Doesn't mean it's not happening! Hey, it's not like you're the most open person with what's on your mind, you know!"

"I do so tell you what I think!"

"Oh, sure. How many times do you just say, I'm okay, and you blow me off, and I know you're not, but I know you don't wanna talk about it, so I try to do the right thing and leave you alone, and then you accuse me?! Where do
you get off!"

"I do not blow you off!"

"Ally, how many times have I asked you if something's wrong, and you say nothing, or if you want some help with something, and you say no?"

"I just don't like to impose on people, that's all."

"Oh, Jesus! You don't want to impose on people! Ally, I'm not just people! I'm me! You're SUPPOSED to ask me to do stuff!"

"I DID ask you to do stuff! I asked you to tell me when you're planning to decimate the property!"

"Ally, I ask you all the time what's going on, and you don't say jack! The only time you'll ever say anything is when you're too drunk to care! It's like you can't say anything without a shot of tequila to loosen your mouth!"

"I'm sorry, I'm used to keeping to myself."

"You were married for almost 20 years and you're used to keeping to yourself?! Jesus fuck, what kind of life did you have before, Ally?!"

"Eric was always...really high strung. He worried about everything. I...tended to take care of things myself so he didn't worry about them."

"Oh, Christ. You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not. He would get upset about everything, so I just didn't make him deal with it."

"What didn't you make him deal with, Ally?"

"Money, for one thing. I took care of all the bills, all the banking. I took care of all the child care arrangements. I took care of the cars. I took care of the real estate deal for our house because he kept getting so bent out of shape over everything."

"What about Miranda?"

"He always was good with Miranda. But he worried about how she did in school and stuff, even though she was always really good, and I pushed her so that he wouldn't get all frantic about it."

"Yeah? Who took care of the animals? Who took care of the yard?"

"I did."

"Who arranged Miranda's-what was that thing you had last fall?"

"Her Bat Mitzvah. I took care of it."

"Who shopped? Cooked? Cleaned?"

"I didn't work as many hours as he did. And by the way, I'm still doing those things, and I don't mind!"

"Okay, okay, I give on those. And I can't cook for shit, so unless everyone wants to starve, you'd probably better keep cooking. Jesus, Ally! Nobody expects you to be a slave around here!"

"I was not a slave! I knew what I was getting into, and I abided by it! Nobody held a gun to my head and made me do it. It was my choice."

He shook his head, and launched into a really brutal spasm of coughing. This time bad enough that he upchucked anything in his stomach on the floor. "Fuck!"

"I'll clean it up."

"I'll get it." He looked tired. "I can still clean up after myself, you know."

"Didn't know you could do it in the first place."

"Hey, I'm not totally helpless, contrary to what you might think!"

"Didn't say you were. I did say you were a lame housekeeper." He left for some paper towels and carpet cleaner and water. We both ended up cleaning up in silence.

When we had finished, I turned to him. I was utterly exhausted and I had no desire to keep bickering. "Look. Move forward with your plans. I am in favor of them. Just don't spring surprises on me, okay? I hate surprises."

"Sometimes surprises can be really cool."

"And usually they fuck up your life."

"Sometimes your life can get fucked up in a really good way."

I looked at him. We were both bone-weary. I smiled weakly. "I don't think we're ever going to resolve this issue."

"What issue?"

"I hate surprises and you like them."

"Hey, I didn't say I liked all of them. Just the cool ones. You gotta admit, Ally. Not all the surprises you get are nasty."

I put my hands on his shoulders. "No, I guess not."

He answered that with another fit of coughing.

END OF PART 28