Amoris Vulnus Idem Sanat Qui Facit
 

MICHAEL:

I could kill my sister.

She's got one fucking nerve, tagging along without being invited.

At least Kelly's being cool about it.

And the two of them are in my car, gabbing away about girl stuff, and I'm like the goddamn chauffeur, and it's like I'm not part of the club, they act like I'm not even here.

It's guy bashing time in earnest.

It's sort of weird, listening to them rattle on. Kelly's not usually real talky, she's kind of quiet and serious. And I'm not sure she and Les even like each other. More like they're feeling each other out.

Guys definitely do not do this the same way.

I mean, we're just openly hostile.

When I came to Virginia, nobody pretended to like me. I could deal with that. I didn't have to pretend to like them, either.

Give me Langly calling me a fuckrag any day over these guys acting like long-lost soul sisters.

It's like they have this common problem. Me.

Hell of a way to get to know each other.
 

I hate shopping malls. I hate shopping. Only reason I agreed to do this in the first place was because I could be alone with Kelly.

And that's been blown all to hell now.

I've been dragged, kicking and screaming, into girl hell.

I mean, look at my sister. You wouldn't think she's into shopping and stuff. She dresses as bad as I do. No, she dresses as bad as my dad does.
I mean, I don't own a fucking alpaca vest, for Christ's sake.

But she's like all excited about this, says she hasn't been shopping in ages because she's been too broke to go. Kelly says she never bought clothes in the mall much before, this is a big treat for her.

What is it about women and shopping?

I mean, for guys, shopping is like visiting your doctor. Something you have to do. Something your female significant other usually forces you to do.

Store owners know this. I think that's why they place guys' clothes right near the entrance, because they KNOW if we have to go searching, we're gonna say fuck it, go home, and not give them any money. So they make it easy for us to part with our cash, which any guy in his right mind would way rather spend on CDs and tools and computers.

Is there a Sears in this mall I can escape to? I mean, at least Sears has a decent tool department. I can get a little excited there.

This is Chain Bridge Mall. I think they got a Strawberries in here. Maybe I can check out some CDs. Not that I can afford any, except maybe they got some good stuff in the used racks.

There's CompUSA at the edges of the mall, but I hate CompUSA. It's like the help, if you can find them, is totally brain dead, and you can get better prices at most of the swap meets.

And get stuff that places like CompUSA wouldn't even think about selling. I love the swap meets. Dad and Langly and Byers have taken me with them. It's amazing how easy it is to get illegal technology, and all for a fraction of the price you'd pay retail. I'm waiting for these guys to start advertising on late night TV, like Crazy Eddie. Another store I can stand to be in.

I can tolerate Borders, too. It's books. I can deal with books. I don't read like my dad does, and I probably should read more, but I can handle a trip there.

So I mean, there's stuff I don't mind going shopping for.

So why do we have to go clothes shopping? I HATE clothes shopping.

There are a lot of reasons for this. One, I'm real short. Five feet six for a guy is fucking short. And we are definitely an oppressed minority. This becomes totally evident when you try to find stuff that fits. Not to mention embarrassing that when you go to get Levis, you have to comb the racks for ones with 29-inch legs. In your waist size.

And I don't wanna even think about what mine is right now. I gained 23 pounds since my surgery. 23 fucking pounds. I'm at 145 right now. This is definitely flirting with pudge. Actually, problem's not weight, it's distribution. I tend to get it all in the gut. Thank you Melvin for that lovely DNA.

Least I still have all my hair. But I'm only 25. Everybody says I'm gonna look just like my dad as I get older.

Oh God no.

Going shopping just reminds me that God was not kind to me in the body department.

No wonder I hate it so much.

I hate trying stuff on. I hate paying for stuff. I hate looking at it. I hate everything about it.

I'm just one hateful bastard this afternoon.
 

FROHIKE:

The hot water should have returned to the shower by now...but I'm not sure I really need the hot water anymore. I'm thinking cool water would be more appropriate. Not icy-I don't think my system could stand it at my age-but definitely on the downside of the thermometer.

Having the kids out of the house has its advantages.

The virtual ladies, as always, never scream at me for standing them up, and they were still waiting for me when I finally arrived, closer to lunch time.

The redhead was from Mulder. I suspect Scully is making good on her no-sex-without-a-vasectomy threat.

There was smoke coming off the screen with that one. Hoo boy!

And a delicious blonde concoction named Frisky. And she was. Oh yes.

Much as I love having the children with me, I have to say that there are moments when I'm happy they're not here.

Particularly considering how much bickering they still do. It's as if instant regression takes place the moment they are in each other's presence.

Sadly, it's not all sibling bickering. There are some real and deep wounds there, and they're going to need a lot of time and nurturing to heal.

Maybe the two of them being out together this afternoon will start to bridge the gap.
 

MICHAEL:

"I am not trying that on. No fucking way."

"Oh, come on!" Les is pushing on me, and Kelly's like, just try it...

I don't think so.

It's a shirt...it's got buttons, for Christ's sake.

Hardly what you think of when you see a guy whose T-shirt reads, "In the suburbs, no one can hear you scream."

I'm being murdered in a suburban mall, I will never be found, my perpetrators never captured.

And the worst part is, no one will miss me.
 

LANGLY:

Christ, how many Tylenols is it going to take before I can open my eyes to light and not feel like I'm being blinded?

I have had one victory-I made it to my chair in the living room. And don't let Miranda kid you. This is MY goddamn chair.

It's pretty much a Pyrrhic victory, though. I went from feeling like shit in our bedroom to feeling like shit in the living room.

Ally's sitting on the sofa and she's trying to keep caught up on her work. I don't think she should stress so much over it, but Scully keeps e-mailing her stuff to do. She looks a little green right now, but she keeps typing.

She's way tougher than I am. She actually got her shoes on. I haven't gotten that far yet.

Up to me, I'd stay here in my chair all day and not move. I've already moved too much for one day.

I tried to count the empties on the counter...I lost track at fifteen. Or was it sixteen? I'm not sure.

It was a fucking lot of beer bottles.

Ally asks me if I want some soup. This is so pathetic. Here I am, feeling like hell because I was stupid, and she feels like hell because I got her that way. And she's offering me something to eat.

Not exactly a boost to my ego here.

It's like I'm so used to her taking care of me, and I'm supposed to take care of her now, and I'm doing a hell of a job of it. Not.

But I gotta eat something. Much as I'm inclined, I can't spend the day in my easy chair feeling sorry for myself for what a useless piece of shit I am.

I can't tell Ally this, either, because she'll just laugh at me. I go off on one of my ego-bashing trips, she tells me to knock it off, I'm being ridiculous.

Maybe.

I got three things I got to do today. One, read over Joanie's stuff again. Fro said he was gonna read it too, so maybe he said some stuff and put it in my e-mail.

Two, find out what kind of experimental treatment stuff is out there. What else she can do. Because her doc says no more chemo. Been there, done that.

And my contribution was hardly worth it for her.

Three, the scariest one of all, is go see Joanie and make her level with me.

I'm so fucking scared right now.

Not even so much of Joanie getting mad at me. I don't care if she gets mad at me.

I'm scared because I just got her back, and now it looks like I'm gonna lose her. For good.

My big sis, my stand-in mom, my bud.

My last blood tie on the planet.

Until my son or daughter is born.

Which won't be till February.

I want Joanie to see my new baby. She's gotta make it that long.

She has to. At least.

Ally brings me lunch, she's made soup and grilled cheese, and when she sets it down, she leans over and gives me a big hug and runs her fingers in my hair.

I don't deserve this. I'm such a shit, and she's being so good to me. Like she always is.

I need her so bad. And now she needs me big time.

Which, as usual, I'm fucking up royally.

Just like I fuck up everything else.
 

MICHAEL:

I hate this. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

Except for the part where Kelly comes out in these shorts she tried on. She doesn't have any shorts, even at the shore I didn't see her in any, although I did have the honor of seeing her in a swimsuit.

Just thinking about that...oh, never mind. Not here.

Oh man. She is like soooo cute. And she's got decent legs. She needs to show them off more.

I give her two resounding thumbs up on the shorts. She's not sure.

I'm gonna make her be sure. God, I'm dying here...but what a way to go.

Now if I can only persuade her to get some tank tops...

I may never be able to go out in public again.
 

LANGLY:

Joanie's form of leukemia is a weird one...it's unusually nasty, it's fast, it's ugly.

It's fatal.

Best they've done with bone marrow and chemo is to beat it back. For maybe a couple years, at best.

Most people with it are dead within six months of diagnosis.

Joanie got diagnosed in January. It's May.

Four months. Hey, I was a math major, I can count.

Not that I consider this an advantage right now.

Radiation doesn't do jack, in fact it seems to make people die faster. Only two chemo protocols, and Joanie's had both of 'em. Once you done a chemo protocol, it's over. Forget it.

God...all the fucking years I didn't have her...

And then I have her again, but so soon she's getting taken away from me.

This is not fair.

God, I've been around Miranda too long...that's her fucking battle cry.

But feeling like that, hey, it's not limited to 15-year-olds.

God, I hope she doesn't think her life sucks as much as I thought mine did at 15.

Well, mine did suck.

I lost Scott that year.

I don't know why I'm thinking about Scott right now. I mean, he was okay and all...we had some good times together...but he's not to me like Joanie was.

Scott'd be, what...going on 50. The big 5-0.

That'd mean my brother and my sister'd both be over 50. Wow.

I'm not even 38 yet. That's a couple months away.

I feel about a thousand years old today, and I'm sure I look it.

And my hair needs trimming. Need to catch Miranda later on.

Least I got my hair. Joanie doesn't.

Wonder if Scott would have all his.

I'm trying to think back, to what my dad looked like...his was moving south for sure when I lost him.

I was 12.

God, I can count off my life by how many people I lost.

This is sick.

What's real sick is, I can barely remember what my dad looks like. I know I got told a lot I looked like him.

Do I have any pics of him? I don't think so.

But I bet Joanie does. Maybe she's got 'em with her.

This is so weird.

I want to see all my family photos.

All my life, it's been like, I'm alone. And then I met Ally, and with her and Miranda, I'm not alone anymore. It's like being connected to somebody, and that's good.

I didn't know how much I needed to be connected to somebody till I was. That scares the hell out of me.

And I don't know what it is-maybe that Joanie looks like she's nine toes over the edge, maybe it's because I'm gonna be a daddy-that I feel this need to be connected. To where I came from.

I mean, I always felt like I sort of came out of nowhere.

I don't want Ally's and my baby to feel like that.

I gotta go talk to my sister.
 

I'm real glad when I get there that Julie's not there, and especially that Chris isn't there. I hate that little fuckrag.

Even if he is my nephew.

Jo must be gone too, she usually answers the door. Hell, it's her condo.

It's just Joanie, she must be sleeping, she takes a long time to get to the door. She looks real surprised to see me.

Okay, so I didn't call first.

And she looks like shit. I mean, Joanie's a pretty good looking woman and all. But today she just looks like hell.

She's thinner than ever. And she was pretty damn thin to begin with. Seems to be in the genes, which is lucky, because the way Ally feeds me, I'd weigh a ton.

She lets me in, she always does, and she gives me a hug, she always does.

She's not only so thin, she feels like she's gonna break in two if I give her one of my bear hugs. I can feel the points on her spine. Like you can in a real old cat.

She must've just tossed her wig on, because it's sort of lopsided. I kind of adjust it, I make it worse. She laughs and leads me by the hand to the living room.

Jo's living room is real comfy. And a hell of a lot neater than ours. Especially lately. I don't want Ally doing stuff like cleaning house.

We got to get a maid.

"What brings you here, little one?" she asks me. I notice that she's wheezing a lot. It's like just walking to the sofa wears her out.

"Uh...just wanted to see you, I guess."

She smiles big. She may not be smiling in a few. Might as well enjoy it now.

"Can I get you something?" she's asking me.

Fuck, I should be offering her.

This time, I'm not gonna be a loser. I tell her I'll make her a cup of tea, I can boil water and not screw it up.

Usually Jo keeps some beers in her fridge, but today, I think I'll pass.

I'm shaky enough as is.

Jo keeps lots of tea here. All different kinds. Here I used to think tea was tea. Well, before I knew Byers, anyway.

Grandma's Tummy Mint. I could use that myself. I fix two cups of it, I don't even spill anything, and I actually make it back to the living room without dropping stuff. Ally says don't look at what you're carrying, you won't drop it. Tricks from her college days waiting on tables.

Joanie's so quiet. I think it's an effort for her to talk.

So I'll talk instead.

No point in dancing around it. It's not like I have all the time in the world. Because from the looks of things, she doesn't.

"Joanie...I know."

She blinks her eyes at me. She's got my eyes. Real light blue. Lots of red in both of ours today. Different source, same effect.

"What do you know, little one?"

Oh God. I don't think I can keep the quaver out of my voice.

"Read your charts, Joanie."

She looks down, doesn't say anything.

"You know I'm not getting better, then." No emotion.

But I got plenty for both of us.

"So what're you gonna do about it?" Stupid question. Just sort of popped out. It's a guy thing. You always gotta do something.

She looks up at me, and I expect her to cry or something, but she just looks sort of...lifeless.

"Ringo, there's nothing I can do."

"Well, I read some stuff...they might be able to try a stem cell transplant..."

"Little one, we went that road. It didn't work."

"Not a bone marrow transplant. Stem cells. Fetal umbilical stem cells."

She's looking at me real suspicious now. "From what?"

"Like from...aborted fetuses-"

"No." I'm amazed she can get that much force in her voice right now, but I guess when she thinks something, she's still gonna say it...

"They haven't done many. Two or three. Course, not many people get your kind of leukemia."

She looks at me, real hard. "How many of them are alive, Ringo?"

Well...none of them. But they lived a few months longer.

I tell her this.

"Ringo, I didn't want to tell you this for precisely this reason. I knew you'd be off and running, grasping at straws, trying to look for anything that might even remotely work. No. I don't want to spend my last days that way." This much talking wears her out; she closes her eyes and leans back on the sofa.

"So what do you want, Joanie?"

She sighs, real quietly. "What I want is...I want to be surrounded by my family and friends. I want to just have enough pain medication that I'm comfortable. I want to die here, Ringo. Not in the hospital. Jo and I have talked."

This pisses me off, big time. "Jo knows? And she didn't say shit?!"

"I told her not to. Believe me, we talked about it at length. And all the arrangements are made."

"What about your kids, Joanie? What about me? Don't we count for shit?!" I'm so close to tears, if I don't get mad, I'll break.

Don't we?

This makes her lean over towards me and she wraps her bony long arms around my back, and now she starts to cry.

"Ringo, little one...don't you see? It's my time."

"Is not!" I don't think I'm gonna be able to not cry for very long. I sure as hell can't talk too well.

"Yes, it is. And that's why the kids don't know, and why you didn't know. Although I should have known you better than this." This idea seems to make her laugh a little. "Ringo...let me tell you something. Life with Roy was hell on earth. But one thing it didn't do was destroy my faith in God. And I know I'm being called home. It's time, little one." She's almost whispering.

"Oh, please! Don't give me that God's will bullshit and all that!" You'd think she'd see her husband's religion for what it is. "Roy's still got you brainwashed, huh?"

I should be comforting my sister, not screaming at her. But I can't help it. I'm so fucking scared.

"This has nothing to do with Roy. Ringo, don't you think I'm capable of thinking for myself after all these years?"

I wonder. She was like, so deep into it, it was almost like she's part of a cult or something.

"You talk about Roy's religion. What about mine, Ringo? Doesn't mine count?"

"Didn't figure for much of a difference."

"That's where you're wrong, little one." She lets go of me. "Ringo, can you do me a favor? Make us some more tea. We need to talk."

I hate it when women say that.

END OF PART 16