From: Erynn Date: Sat, 17 Mar 2001 22:15:27 -0800 Subject: Things Undone 6: Road Trip 1/7 Source: atxc Things Undone 6: Road Trip, part 01 of 07 Authors: Erynn and Sally Email: inisglas@seanet.com, sallyh@flashcom.net Archive: Ephemeral, Gossamer, LGM, FLO, all others ask. Rated: R for grownup stuff Spoilers: We assume you've seen the X Files series. Set a little after FPS in this universe. Disclaimers: Not ours! Not ours! We bow to the Surfer God, 1013, Fox, and Morgan & Wong. They're yours, but we love them too. Opening quotes, as always, are used without permission, but with appreciation. Category: Gunmen story, humor, reflection Keywords: Lone Gunmen Summary: Frohike's on the road, and Byers and Langly take time to talk. Stories in the Things Undone series: TU 1: Things Undone by Erynn; a 5-part story wherein the Gunmen deal with some unfinished business. TU 2: Mending the Tears, by Sally; a 6-part story wherein Fro and Langly go to the ER. TU 3: To Carry On, by Erynn; a vignette wherein the Gunmen begin to deal with the repercussions of their adventure. TU 4: Alchemy of the Word, by Erynn and Sally; a 17 chapter novella wherein words are more important than they seem, and Byers starts to get a life. TU 5: Snipe Hunt, by Erynn and Sally; a 24 chapter novel wherein our boys track down a hacker, and end up in the middle of a real mess. They're archived at http://members.nbci.com/lonegunmenml/ If you haven't read them, you'll likely be confused. Go do it! ______ "It was a track, a definite beaten path, I had forgotten till this moment just how clear it lay before me there." ~~Robin Skelton -- Distances~~ ______ THURSDAY, MAY 17, 2000 LONE GUNMEN HQ, V. 2.0 EARLY AFTERNOON FROHIKE: We're back from Southern California and our on-site 'consulting and play-test' stint with FPS, where we spent two shall we say... 'interesting' weeks not getting a tan. Hot virtual prostitutes with flintlock pistols is not my idea of a grand time: well, not when they're busy killing people anyway. Two dead -- including the legendary Daryl Musashi -- Mulder and Scully nearly shot up by the Cyberbabe, Byers almost getting his butt blown off too; I mean, jeez, hasn't he been through enough already? At least we're getting some money out of it. After the fix, we still shipped on time. We've been in this Victorian dump for about a month now, and we've still got boxes and loose crap lying all over the place. The whole damn building has to be re-wired for our systems, and the only way to maneuver through some of the rooms right now is to sidle your way along paths that we've made. Byers' room, of course, is one of the exceptions. He's unpacked, but he would be. You'd think that right now, travel would be the last thing on my mind, but the FPS trip was such an exercise in insanity that when Mel Scarlett invited me to join her for a few days in Harrisburg, I jumped at the chance. Besides, I haven't been able to locate my video collection for love nor money since we bailed for Skinner's beach house. I wonder if Monroe's men took off with them? Trash a man's home and computer systems *and* steal his entire video collection? That's low, man, really low. Or maybe it was Mulder. If he got in there and raided the place before we made it back, I am so gonna kill him. We've only been home four days, but to hell with it, I'm out of here. And when I get home, I'm gonna find my collection. Byers and Langly are sitting on the floor, laying wiring where we've torn out a wall. "I'm leaving," I tell them tersely. "You're what?" Byers asks, startled. "Relax, Byers, I'm only gone for four days. I'll be back -- unless I get a better offer," I kid them. "Like, going where?" Langly whines. "Thought you were gonna help us out here." "I will, when I get back." "Back from where?" Byers says. "Pennsylvania." Harrisburg, actually, but they don't need to know that. "Lemme guess. You're gonna get it on with Mel Scarlett," Langly says, waggling his eyebrows. "That remains to be seen." I'm not staying with her. I will if she wants me to, but for the sake of privacy, not to mention easy escape for both of us should things not work out well, I got a motel room nearby at the Sleepytime Motor Inn. I'm hoping they don't throw in the roaches for free; the price suggests housecleaning isn't a priority. I'm not planning on spending much time there, but I'd rather not share that time with the coprophages. "Wanna borrow some condoms, Fro? Oh, wait, I don't have any extra small," Langly snickers. I'd swat him, but that would entail effort, and I'd rather save my energy for the road trip. Besides, should it come to what Langly suggests, Mel is a woman of a certain age, meaning that birth control is no longer a necessity. Old age definitely has its advantages. "I knew you were overly optimistic, Ringo," Byers says with a wicked grin. "Don't forget to keep your eye on the expiration dates." "Byers!" Langly howls. "I'm out of here, boys. Be good." Not like Langly has much choice. Deborah's taking her finals. I think it annoys him, but he's been surprisingly good about it. It's a welcome change from his whining and moaning earlier in the year. The fact that we have so much work to do doesn't hurt, either. I know Langly misses Deborah. They still have their raunchy emails and over the top net sex, but he's changing. Could it be... maturity? Nah. Byers' sight is finally back to normal, which has really improved his disposition, even though our Miss Thomas is in India. No, for once, I don't feel a need to get away from the boys being themselves. It's more the events of recent months adding up, culminating in the debacle at FPS, that have worn me to a frazzle. Mel asked me to come up and see a Pirates-Orioles game with her; so what if we'll be cheering for opposite sides? Nothing like baseball for relaxation. We're pretty much playing it by ear; we'll do the ballgame, and we talked about having a picnic if the weather holds up, but our plans are flexible. She seems as exhausted as I am, if not more, so I'm assuming plenty of R&R will be built in. It's been so long since I've had any, I hope I remember what it is. BYERS: "Man, I can't believe he ditched us like that. The place is a fucking wreck, seems like we're never gonna get it all wired up," Langly whines. "He didn't 'ditch' us." We really could use his help right now, the way things have been going, but I can hardly grudge Mel some downtime. "He's just taking a break." I expect Langly to keep whining, but lately he's been surprising me by actually making the occasional concession. "Yeah, yeah, I know, you're right." He leans back into a pile of boxes. Cardinal Richelieu, Sari's cat, is staying with us, and he comes by rubbing his jowls against Langly's hand. "Hey, fat cat." He strokes the Cardinal's ears, and I can hear blissful purring. I shake my head. "One thing we have got to do is put the Cardinal on a diet. Sari will be home in a few days. If she sees what Mel did to him, he's doomed to wind sprints at dawn, and quite honestly, I'm not ready for him to have a coronary," I roll my eyes. The Cardinal's belly just scrapes the ground, picking up dust and God only knows what else as he moves. "Yeah, can you imagine how much that would suck? You think he's crabby now? Shit, Deb tells me old guys with heart attacks, they're like total bastards." "How is Deborah, by the way?" "Ass deep in exams," he says. "Won't hear much from her 'til after next week." He stares off into the distance. "I really miss her, man." I've certainly heard that before, but this isn't his usual arrested adolescent whine. My guess is that exposing Pinck and identifying Black Widow as Jack Monroe, along with all the attendant misery and risk, may have forced him to grow up a little. "I know," I tell him. "I guess you wish Sari was back, too, eh?" He finishes wiring the outlet, and we move over a few feet, lay more wiring, and start on the next outlet. Putting these walls back together is going to be a pain. Langly said earlier that Scotty the Rat and Elron are going to be by tonight to help out with that. Scotty may be a junkie, but at least he can use a hammer. Elron the Druid, well, I'm not so sure about him. About the only thing he seems to wield with any competence are dice and computers. I wonder if Kimmy will show up with them. I think he can be trusted with some of the actual wiring. I sigh. "Yeah, I do." I haven't heard from her since she left Portland for Varanasi, about a week and a half ago. She told me she wouldn't be able to call, as she's staying at the ashram, but I still miss her. Sometimes just hearing her voice can make me feel better. The guys have really backed off about our friendship, and it's been much more comfortable for me. I hope they won't be back to business as usual once she gets home. She hadn't been out of the hospital for more than a few hours before she and Devi were on a plane to Wichita for Nicole's funeral, and she hasn't been back since. I imagine she'll be exhausted when she finally gets here. I'm supposed to meet her at the airport with the Cardinal on Saturday afternoon. In the meantime, Devi drops in every now and then to help out with unpacking if she has a free afternoon. She's got most of the kitchen together, and is coming by later today as well, to finish that and get started on the den. God, I wonder what kind of scene will develop if she, Scotty, Elron and Kimmy are all here at the same time. I shake my head at the image. "I hope she doesn't wind up back in the hospital, after all the traveling she's been doing." "Sari's pretty tough. Give her a few days rest when she gets back, she'll be good as new." The Cardinal is lying on Langly's lap now. If he stays there, Ringo will never get anything done. "I think she has to go back to work on Monday." I swipe the cat and scratch behind his ears. He purrs and climbs up to lie on my shoulders for a rest. "Well, that'll suck." Langly gives me a grumpy look. "For all I know, she may want to get back to work. Speaking of which, let's get to it." I poke him with my pliers. "You're evil, Byers." "Not as evil as Frohike's going to think I am when he finally figures out his porn collection is missing." "Wait a... Frohike's been saying he thinks that Monroe's hired goons took 'em." I grin at Ringo. "Oooh, Johnny, you are downright diabolical." "Actually, it was Sari's idea." "God, she is cold." We both laugh. "I never woulda though she'd have it in her, man." "That's what makes it so wonderful. And she's paying the rent on the storage unit, too." I turn my attention back to the wiring, and Langly howls with laughter. Until we pulled those practical jokes, I never would have seen it in her, either. Thinking about it, though, makes me miss her even more. Oh well, it's only a few more days. FROHIKE: I gas up the old Chrysler at the last station in DC that sells leaded premium. I had to scout the route beforehand to see where I could refill along the way. One of the towns with a station that carries the stuff is Intercourse, Pennsylvania. I wonder if this is fate, or a cruel hoax. Poor Deborah. It'd take living in the wilds of the Commonwealth to relish the prospect of living in DC. I'm eager for this trip. I haven't been on many road trips just for fun in the last two decades. The boys and I did one to Atlantic Beach, North Carolina some years back, but since then, travel has been synonymous with work. Not this time; it's pure pleasure -- well, I'm not pure, but there will certainly be some pleasure, maybe even of the fleshly variety. We'll just have to see what happens. I'm not interested in a third rate romance, low rent rendezvous. If something transpires, I'd like it to be something long term. Casual sex, contrary to what one might believe from appearances, has never been my thing. If I want casual sex, I'll pay for it. That's not what a real relationship is for. One of the best parts of a road trip is the inevitable stop at Krispy Kreme, and this time, I don't have to share. I'll just get a couple and a large coffee to go. "Will that be a dozen, sir?" the young woman asks. She's a sweet looking little thing. "Oh, why not?" I'm celebrating, and there's nothing like a little sugar to clear my head. Besides, I won't eat all of them... Before I reach the Maryland-Pennsylvania state line, there are no more Krispy Kremes. Between that and the extra large coffee, my stomach will be screaming in a while. Oh, screw it: I'm driving, I can stop whenever I want. The weather gods are smiling on me today. It's positively exquisite; upper 70s, clear, wildflowers in bloom, trees budding everywhere I look. Pretty soon, DC will be a hot, sticky mass of miserable humanity, but this is the sort of day that gives me a light heart. It's been so long since I felt this way that I'm almost weightless from it. The weather, the scenery, the drive itself, all seem to be peeling years away with each passing mile. It's been a hell of a year so far; I think I've aged a decade since my last birthday. I had some gray hair when I got involved in the life I live now, but an evening of looking at old snapshots jolted me, seeing just how much I'd really aged. We were unpacking and one of the boxes had our photo albums. There are some from our past lives, of course, but the three of us spent most of the evening looking at photos from after we met. You really don't notice how fast time is racing until you see the past up close and personal. I think Langly was a bit disconcerted at just how much hair he's really lost. On the plus side, he's got less acne than he did back then. Byers looks the most like he did eleven years ago what with that baby face of his, but even he's got some grey in his beard now, and a few more lines around the eyes. A lot of our experiences have been unnerving, some positively harrowing, but I found I didn't mind going over the past with those two jokers. We laughed and reminisced like we hadn't in ages. I felt for a while like we were wasting time, but sometimes, 'wasting' it is the best way to use it. I need to waste some time again; this whole year has been filled with purpose and work. Both of those are good things, but I'm worn out from it and right now, if I'm going to be worn out, I'd rather be worn out from enjoying myself. At least the guys' dispositions have improved. I was dreading Sari taking off for a month, and Deborah returning to work and study, thinking that I was in for a long siege of whining and bitching from them, but it hasn't been that way. Not that they've been angels the entire time, but for the most part, they've managed to keep themselves fairly composed. I appreciate that. What hasn't improved are the situations we've been getting into. I'd just like to get through one damn month without someone trying to shoot us, stab us, or kick our butts from here to Antarctica -- the year so far has been manic. I'd like May to be different. I try not to think about the past few months, and for the most part, I'm wonderfully distracted by the drive, but I haven't driven this much in ages, and the resultant pain reminds me too much of one of our recent sojourns in hell. As I recall, Ms. Scarlett has wonderful hands. Perhaps she won't mind using them on my aching shoulder. I really don't know what will happen on this trip. Through our e-mail correspondence, Mel and I have developed a comfortable, companionable friendship. The problem is that there's so much I still haven't revealed to her regarding our work, and the types of situations we find ourselves in. Part of the reason I haven't told her is, of course, cowardice, but I also feel there are some things that should be said face to face, and this is one of them. I really don't know how she'll react, but from all indications, she's a sturdy, down-to-earth woman who's seen a lot. ER nursing isn't for the faint of heart, and she's been at it for thirty years now. She told me a lot of stories, some hair-raising, many hilarious. I did ask her about gerbils a la Richard Gere. She then proceeded to tell me about other things that people have inserted into various bodily orifices. Makes you respect the creativity of the human animal, but there's also such a thing as way too much information. She may very well feel the same way once I've let her in on the dark, dirty secrets of our lives. I'd prefer not to, but I know that if this is going to work, I'm going to have to level with her. She's been bugging me about it, not in an unfriendly way, but I think she's got a strong bullshit detector, and I don't see any point in trying to snow her. With any luck, she won't ever have to endure what Sari and Deborah went through with us. I can't promise her that, but I can hope. Hell, while I'm at it, I'll hope for myself. Honestly, I'm getting way too old for this shit. The butterflies in my stomach get more agitated as I get closer to Harrisburg, where Mel lives. It's not a completely unpleasant sensation. In some ways, it's like reliving choice moments of youth. I don't know what our relationship will be after this weekend, but for the moment, I'm enjoying the anticipation. It's been a long time since I've felt like this, and I plan to savor it. Pennsylvania, despite my disparaging remarks, is really a lovely state, especially on a warm spring day. It was a slushy, frozen hell in the bowels of January, but today, it's welcoming me with open arms. And I notice there's a Krispy Kreme on the outskirts of Harrisburg, which I completely missed last time. It's not like me to overlook a Krispy Kreme, but I had a lot on my mind when we were here last. I did promise Langly I'd stop by and say hello to Deborah. He was pretty unhappy at having to be in California on May 7th, his beloved's 29th birthday (I seem to remember being 29 somewhere back in the Pleistocene Era), but in view of her work schedule, he wouldn't have been able to be with her anyway. He took it with good grace, and sent her two dozen roses. He was kind of cute actually, asking me about what flowers to get her, with the sort of shy clumsiness a 16-year-old might have. I told him what the various colors of roses are supposed to signify, and when I asked him later what he'd sent, he blushed a little and said, "Red." Ah, the boy's in love. Am I? That's a good question. I confess I haven't given it a lot of thought. I really enjoy Mel's emails; we've become a mutual admiration and aggravation society. As for being in love, though, I'm not ready to pass judgment yet. The thing is, I feel no urgency to do so. Today, I feel no urgency at all. It's the closest thing to freedom I know. LANGLY: "We're never gonna get this done," I grumble, and it sure as hell feels like it. Now that Fro's out of the picture for a few days, it's gonna go even slower. "We'll get it done, Ringo," Johnny's being like real soothing, and yeah, it helps. He's like he used to be again. Well, not totally, but in the ways he's not, he's even better than he was. He's not so uptight about stuff, for instance. "Maybe we need a break." Whoa, now that's a different Byers than the one I used to know. A break? I almost open my big mouth to say something about it, but why spoil the moment? "Are you hungry?" he asks me. Now that I think about it, I am... oh hell, when am I not hungry? You'd think I was still a growing boy. Well, I may be growing, but it's out, not up. You'd think I was gonna be 35 or something. Oh shit -- I am gonna be 35. Man, that's a landmark. That's like, you're starting to be middle aged or something. Damn, that's depressing. "Yeah, I could eat something," I say to Byers. "I could, too. I'll get us some food." That's cool, 'cause I can't cook for shit. He heads for the kitchen, so I follow him and grab myself a beer. "Feels good, having your eyes back, eh?" I ask him as he pulls some stuff out. Byers and Frohike, they walk around the kitchen, food happens. Me, when I walk around the kitchen, I make a mess. These days, though, I've been cleaning up the mess too. I got no idea how Byers used to do all this by himself every week. "You have no idea." Byers flashes me this wicked happy grin. We see a lot more of him smiling these days. I was thinking when Sari took off, he'd be like a total bastard, but he's been real mellow about it. "I feel like I've been reborn." I bet it's more than getting his eyes back making him feel that way, but I'm gonna keep my mouth shut. I know he and Sari are just buds, and I'm gonna leave it alone. Besides, I got no desire to get him pissed off like he was last month. I mean, we were just kidding, but he didn't take it too well. Sure, I get tempted to bust on him about it. Sari's a good looking girl, and they obviously like each other, it's sorta hard not to think about 'em being a good fit. But I'm not gonna help the situation if I open my yap and stick both my big feet in. "You okay, Langly?" Byers asks me as he's whipping up something for us to munch on. "Yeah, I'm cool. Just thinkin', that's all." He laughs. "Now there's a novelty." "Fuck you, Byers." He knows I'm kidding, just like he is. "Guess I was just sorta... you realize I'm gonna be 35 next month?" "We're talking chronological, not mental age, aren't we?" He hands me a sandwich. Y'know, some people think Byers has no sense of humor. They're the same ones that are surprised as hell to find out he can be totally diabolical. Like, when John's evil twin Skippy gets out, nobody wants to believe it. I swear, it's the suit. Nobody ever suspects the suit. You'd think he was Saint John the Narc or something. I mean, I do bratty stuff, but nobody's ever surprised; they only tweak when I don't do something obnoxious. You'd think we'd be about the most unlikely guys on the planet to end up friends. All I know is, I'm glad we did. End part 1 Things Undone 6: Road Trip, part 02 of 07 by Erynn and Sally ______ "If only we too could discover a pure, contained human place, our own strip of fruit-bearing soil between river and rock." ~~Rainier Maria Rilke -- Duino Elegies: The Second Elegy ~~ ______ THURSDAY, MAY 17, 2000 ON THE ROAD TO HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA EARLY EVENING FROHIKE: Maybe I should have eaten something with a little more substance than a dozen Krispy Kremes and a giant coffee; by the time I reach the fringes of Harrisburg, my stomach is snarling at me. I think about grabbing something, but it's nearly six in the evening, and Mel might be hungry. I'm not sure what her plans for dinner are; she said something in one of her emails about her primary cooking talents consisting of the ability to wave credit cards at waiters and point to menu items. I really did enjoy the time to myself. The whole trip up was a complete pleasure, unless you count the part with the gas station bathroom, which was mercifully brief. But as for dining, that should be shared. I've always believed that it's better to eat soup with friends than steak alone. She lives on Route 83, the road into town and the main drag, but she's in the unincorporated part of the city. It snows like a son of a bitch in these parts in winter, and unincorporated areas don't tend to get much in the way of plowing aside from the occasional capitalist neighbor trying to recoup the payments on his SUV. Springtime, however, has brought out the best in the area's personality; the houses are far apart, the lawns are bright green, and there are flowers everywhere. Mel's house isn't in magnificent repair, but this doesn't surprise me; she's been single and raising children for the better part of fifteen years, only two of which her ex paid child support for. I've been trying to track him down and send him some 'correspondence,' suggesting that he ought to own up to his responsibilities, but even we can't find him. I wonder where the hell the bastard went? I hate guys that don't take care of their families, even if they can't live with them. I never missed a support payment. I've paid my rent late, skipped my utilities even, but I never missed a check to my kids. Her car is parked outside -- no garage -- and is, as she described, a 1989 Honda Accord. A good car, reliable and well-made, though no match for my old Chrysler. Maybe I can help her with some repairs on the house. It's something I can do; I'd never have bought that monstrosity of an old house if we weren't all capable with tools. Wonder how the boys are doing on it? I should call and let them know I'm here. She's out in her garden when I pull up. One of the reasons I chose the house I did was because there was the possibility of having a garden. I love digging in the dirt. To see her out, pruning her rose bushes, lifts my heart. "Mel!" She runs over to me. I notice for the first time how long her hair is. When I saw her in the hospital, it was wound into a tight bun, but tonight, it's in a long braid, long enough for her to sit on. There's a fair bit of gray mixed in the brown, and I think it looks good that way. It says she's not afraid of her age, or of showing it. I spent the last hour of the trip debating whether or not to kiss her hello when we met, and what kind of kiss it should be, but she renders the point moot, and plants a soft one right on my lips. I can't remember when something felt so wonderfully right. She smiles at me, and I do the same to her. "How was your trip?" I look her over. Mel is short, even shorter than I am. She's clad in baggy shorts and a T-shirt with the classic "Hit any key to continue" cartoon. She looks delightful; relaxed and comfortable. "I'm sorry I'm not better dressed," she apologizes, taking my arm gently in hers, "but when I'm gardening I don't try to emulate a Paris fashion model." She giggles a bit. "Truth is, I never try to emulate a Paris fashion model. I'm more of a fashion victim." "You look lovely," I tell her, and I mean it. "Well, come in, come in! Welcome to Chez Mess." She leads me into the kitchen, which, indeed, is a mess, but no worse than ours has ever looked. "Iced tea?" She pulls a pitcher from the fridge. "That would be lovely, thank you." "It's sun tea and it's not sweetened, but feel free to doctor it any way you like." "Plain is fine." The tea is strong and cold. Hits the spot perfectly. I take a quick inventory of the room. Her cabinets appear to need new hinges. I'll ask her later. I don't want her to be insulted, but I'd like to help if I can. "Sorry the place is something of a disaster," she goes on as she serves tea in two tall glasses, "but I never seem to have the time or money to pull it together. So much shit I gotta do to make this place livable, but can't get around to it." "I'd be happy to help you." She proffers me a glass. I take it from her. "I didn't bring you here to work, Mel." "I don't mind. Really." "Well, if you don't... that'd be wonderful. But enough of that. Tell me about your trip to California. You didn't say much in your emails, except that it was... odd." Odd doesn't even begin to cover it. "Would you mind terribly if I called in to the kids? They worry, you know," I say to her. "Oh, call them, by all means. Phone's over there." She points to a pile of whatever on the counter. I'm assuming there's a phone buried in there somewhere. After some major excavation, I locate a cordless phone; not very secure. Oh well, it's just a check-in call. I can fix the security situation later. "Lone Gunmen," I hear Langly's nasal voice, heavily punctuated with giggles. "What the hell are you doing, Langly?" "Um... let's see... oh yeah... Elron and Kimmy and Scotty are here. Devi too. They're like... they're sorta helping us get the place fixed up." This is followed by a heavy chorus of laughter from behind him. What the hell is going on? Wait, I probably don't want to know. "Well, I'm calling to let you know I'm here." "Oh. Like...where are you, man?" "Langly, are you stoned?" The laughing from him and the people in the background sounds a lot like what went on in my younger days, involving... recreational substances. That gets a good laugh from him. "Put Byers on," I order him. At least one of them should be somewhat sober, statistically speaking. "Hey Byers, man, Frohike wants to talk to you!" Langly seems to think this is hilarious, and so do the others. I swear I'm going to smack that boy when I get home. Well, at least Byers will be able to take a message and understand it. "Uh... hello?" Byers sounds like... well, not like Byers. He bursts into laughter before he finishes his greeting. Looks like they've all been dipping into the happy weed. Well, they've got Scotty and Elron there, what should I have expected? "Byers, I'm in Pennsylvania." "Uh-huh. No, the blender's under there, Devi... we're making milkshakes." He giggles again. They've definitely been smoking. Langly always follows a toke session with milkshakes. "I see you have nothing under control," I snap at him. "Try to get some work done, if it's not too much trouble." "Oh... no trouble, no trouble at all... um... bye!" Byers hangs up in a fit of laughter. I shake my head. "Problem?" Mel asks me, her eyebrows knitted in concern. I shake my head. "Oh, no. Just the kids getting stoned." "From what you say, Mel, they're 34 and 36 years old. Hardly kids." "Your kids are what, 20 and 23?" "Sad but true." "And you still worry about them, don't you?" "Only all the time." She looks weary. "I have no idea where either of them are right now. You'd think they'd at least have the courtesy to let me know their whereabouts, but that seems to be far beyond their capabilities." She sighs. "Lisa hasn't said anything, but why do I think once this baby is born, she's going to expect Grandma to be available at her beck and call?" "Well, will Grandma be available?" I tease her gently. "Oh, you know I'm a sucker, Mel. I think that's obvious." "You're not a sucker. You're just a gentle, kindhearted woman." She looks up at me, her eyes radiant and hopeful. "Thank you." "It's the truth, you know." She sits at the kitchen table with me, laying her hand gently atop mine. It feels so natural and right. "So let's quit worrying about our kids for a few minutes. Tell me about your job in California." Oh boy. I draw in a long breath. In order for this to make sense, it's going to have to be contextualized, starting about the year her Accord was made. I look at her meaningfully. "Mel, would you like to have some dinner?" She smiles. "Now that would truly be a treat. Only I'm not very well dressed." "Last time I checked, Denny's didn't have a dress code." That gets an even broader smile. "I knew you were the right man for me." Let's see what she says after a Grand Slam and an unbelievable story of a long, strange trip. LONE GUNMEN HQ BYERS: When Elron and Scotty showed up, Elron was, as usual, packing weed and rolling papers. I don't think he ever goes anywhere without them, and I have no idea how he's managed to avoid getting busted over the years. Also as usual, he rolled a joint and offered some to everyone. Langly, of course, doesn't require any arm twisting. Frohike indulges from time to time as well, but I usually don't. I mean, I got stoned now and then when I was in college, like everyone else. I even inhaled. Not at drunken frat-boy parties of course; I was never the type. The people I used to hang out with were arts and media department types who were in some of my communications classes with me, or in my Asian Arts class, or the guys in pre-law, which was practically a requirement if I wanted to get into the FCC. Left over bohemians, who usually wrote terrible poetry. Bad poetry is just pitiful. Sari writes really good poetry though. I wonder if she's written anything while she's been away? Some of that stuff she read for Langly and Deborah was... is it hot in here? Where was I? Right. Elron had some grass. Most of this year has been harrowing. Sure, I've been feeling better lately. It's wonderful to be able to see normally again. I was feeling in a celebratory mood, so instead of passing the joint as I usually do, I actually took a hit before I handed it to Ringo. You know, it feels good to do that sometimes. Kimmy showed up and got into it too, and we talked for quite a while about some rumors of a new design for a water-fueled engine. Splitting out the hydrogen is the usual suspected technology, and they've been talking about it for a long time now. I still think the oil companies are hiding something big. Well, we know they're hiding everything, but I mean, big as in could put them out of business entirely big. After a while, Scotty and Langly said we were too damn boring and dragged us over to join their conversation. They wanted to talk about their latest game. Then Devi showed up. I'll admit it, I was entirely paranoid when the buzzer rang. When I saw it was her in the security monitor, I shouted "Devi's here, hide the weed!" "Why, man?" Langly asked. Why? "Well... um... I mean, she's married to a diplomat. She's State Department. Maybe she'd have a problem with it or something..." Langly gave me his 'you're too stupid to live' look. "Oh Jesus, Byers, get over yourself. Devi's like totally cool about stuff. And besides, man, you know that a lot of feds are like, total stoners, dude." Langly laughed, and then I started too, and when Devi entered, she took a sniff and started singing "Don't Bogart That Joint." That was enough to set everyone off. After a while, Langly wanted milkshakes. He always does when he's stoned. He has got absolutely no concept of nutritional value, I swear. Frohike called, just as Devi was looking for the blender. I think he's over at Ms. Scarlett's place now. Unless he was calling from a truck stop. Or maybe a diner. Or was he at a gas station? I don't remember. Anyway, I don't want a milkshake. There's no chocolate syrup to make one. And no chocolate ice cream. How can you make a proper chocolate milkshake without chocolate? I wonder if there's some cocoa mix around somewhere, or at least some Oreos? Langly and Kimmy are working on the wiring while Elron is in the kitchen with Devi. Scotty shouts "Hey Druid -- I hope you're not trying to supervise in there. You always wanna put mistletoe in everything!" Scotty isn't one to talk. God only knows what the hell he shoots into his arm when he's jonesing. I should keep an eye on him. He's been known to make off with stuff before, to sell for his fix. Where is he? Oh yeah, over there, putting some of the wall back up where we rewired. Talk about bad wiring, this place still has knob and tube in the walls, and we even found some old gas lines from when the place was first built, before electric lights. That reminds me, we need... oh, what the hell... red... fire extinguishers, yeah, for all the rooms in the house. Knob and tube isn't exactly reliable. I don't know what possessed Frohike when he and Mulder went to sign the papers for this place. I think he hid our ownership under about a dozen levels of false corporations and identities. At least he knows his way around that stuff. Sari was in the hospital that day, and I couldn't be there to sign the closing papers. That's the sort of thing I usually do. Legal papers, identification, all that stuff, because I studied pre-law, for the FCC. God I'm hungry. Kimmy passes me the joint again. Or maybe it's a different joint. I'm not sure. It looks like it might be the same joint. I examine it closely to be sure. "Ground Control to Major Byers," he says as I'm eyeing the joint. "Hmmm? What?" I put down the pliers and take the joint from him... don't crush that dwarf... hmmm... maybe I should put on one of my old Firesign Theater albums. I think maybe 'Everything You Know is Wrong'... Oh, right, I'm supposed to be helping with the wiring. "I need a pizza." "Za?" Devi says, hauling in a cutting board with half a dozen milkshakes on it, Elron at her heels. "That sounds soooo good right now. I need some za." Langly looks up from his work. "Man, where's my milkshake? Chips, dude, we need chips. And za." I think we're starting to form a consensus here. "Whoa, how much pizza we talkin' here?" Elron wants to know. "I think we need one for each of us," Scotty says. "I'm starved. I need a pizza that could choke a horse." Everyone laughs, but I'm about that hungry myself. "Dude, I'll call," Elron says. "Who's paying?" Kimmy wants to know. Everyone turns and stares in my direction. I look behind me to see who they're staring at, but there's nobody there. Oh. They want me to pay for the pizza. Maybe I'll put it on Mulder's Visa, after all, he went house hunting with Frohike. The knob and tube wiring is partly his fault, and we deserve pizza after we've been working so hard all day. I feel like I haven't eaten in a million years. I remember the last time I hadn't eaten in a million years; I fell over on my face at Sari's place. God, that was so embarrassing. But that soup of hers was delicious. Damn, I miss her. I wish she was here now. We could have pizza together. I don't think she'd want one with everything, though. My reverie is rudely interrupted by a ball of paper in the chest. "Byers, dude, wake up -- you're doing the za thing," Langly says. I nod and reach for the phone, hit the speed dial for the pizza place, and give them our order. Half a dozen large pizzas with everything. Ummm... beer, we need beer with pizza, but they don't sell beer. Why the hell don't they? Everyone knows you need beer with pizza, it's a universal law, like gravity or Murphy's law, or maybe that law about equal and opposite reactions... what the hell was that, anyway? I forget. "They don't have any beer, guys," I announce to no one in particular. Langly looks up at me, supremely annoyed, but his upper lip and the tip of his nose are white from the milkshake and I can't help laughing. "What's so funny?" he says. "No beer is like a totally massive crisis." I keep giggling, because I can't talk, and just point to the tip of my nose. "Okay, dude, so you got a big nose, what are we..." He brings his hand up and touches the tip of his own nose, noting the milkshake on it. "...oh man..." Now everyone's laughing. Scotty speaks up. "Guys, like Elron and me, we'll go for some beer. We can't allow this kind of cosmic crisis to continue." Langly smiles. "Dudes, you're Godlike." "Here's some money, guys." Devi hands Elron some cash. I think she's smart enough to know that she'd never see any change if she handed it to Scotty. Elron's reliable when it comes to beer runs, though. He spends most of his life like this, and I've seen direct, incontrovertable evidence that he can code while seriously stoned, so I'm sure he can make change. And the nearest place that sells beer is only about three blocks from here. "Get a couple cases of decent stuff," Devi insists. They nod enthusiastically and head out. God I'm starved. I need a beer. I need another hit. Something else is missing too, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Devi giggles as the beer boys head out. "Hey, Johnny," she says, "you want your milkshake?" "Is it chocolate?" It's not real if it isn't chocolate. She frowns and shakes her head. "No. No chocolate," she says. "You didn't ask for chocolate. You get vanilla, like everyone else." Langly suddenly has a predatory look on his face. "If Byers doesn't want it, give it to me!" "Go ahead and give him mine," I tell her. She looks at me as though I've just grown another three heads. "Everybody loves milkshakes, John." She tries to make me take the shake. Langly's there in a split second and swipes it with a deft grab. "Mine!" he shouts. He can have it. Devi goes off to argue with him about who the shake belongs to. I don't care, I don't want it -- it's not chocolate. God, I'm starving. Where's the pizza already? I think I'm forgetting something. What am I forgetting? Whatever it is, it's up in my room. I climb the stairs to the second floor. Most Victorian houses have really high ceilings, so the stairwells tend to be long. And the medium to large ones have big rooms, too. This is kind of a medium sized one, with two floors, a huge cellar, and an attic. Langly laid claim to the attic as his personal space. Thank God -- neither Mel nor I are thrilled with the idea of climbing two or three flights of stairs to get to bed. Our rooms are on the second floor, and a couple of guest rooms. My new bedroom is bigger than some entire apartments I lived in while I was in college. The place dwarfs the bed, desk, dresser and stereo system that took up my entire room before, and it looks awfully empty right now. I fish around in the bedside stand to see if I can remember what I forgot. I really have to get a bigger bed. I only have a little double bed because that's all that would fit into my room at the old place. I can't quite stretch out on it enough, and that's always bugged me. I need something on the walls too. Maybe I can even fit a nice comfy chair or two in here. What am I looking for? Tale of Two Cities, no; old Fortean Times, no, but that was a fairly good hollow earth story... damn it, don't read right now; half-eaten candy bar... that might hold me until the pizza gets here. I nibble on it as I continue fishing around. Rolled up tie... how did this get here instead of in my laundry basket? I toss it in with the rest of my dirty clothes. Photo of Sari... Frohike took it one evening while she was reading Rimbaud to me, and we hadn't noticed. I'm lying on the red couch and she's sitting with me, dressed in jeans and a silk shirt. God, I look awful, my face was still badly bruised. Sari doesn't, she looks really nice. She always does. Yeah, she's definitely missing, but she'll be home in just a couple days. What the hell am I... oh, here it is. She left a little packet of sandalwood incense from when she first stayed with the guys, while I was in the hospital. How can anybody be well and truly stoned without some incense? I hold it up to my nose and sniff, close my eyes. It smells like her, warm and woody, rich and slightly sweet. I really miss her. I wish she could call me, I'd really like to hear her voice. Devi sounds a little like her sometimes, when she's being quieter than her usual habit. Sari's a quiet person. I like that. It's peaceful. Sometimes when we're together, we just sit, not talking, not doing anything, just being quiet together. It feels good to do that sometimes. "Byers!" Langly's shouting up the stairs. "Pizza's here! Get it while there's still some left!" I wonder if the beer's here yet? End part 02 Things Undone 6: Road Trip, part 03 of 07 by Erynn and Sally ______ "Lovers, if they knew how, might utter strange, marvelous words in the night air." ~~Rainier Maria Rilke -- Duino Elegies: The Second Elegy~~ ______ THURSDAY, MAY 17, 2000 MEL SCARLETT'S PLACE, HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA LATE EVENING FROHIKE: The coffee is poured, over and over. Our breakfasts-for-dinner arrive, are eaten, and more coffee is drunk. We watch every table in the place turn over time after time before I pause for air. I started at the beginning, you see. Back at the Baltimore Convention Center, eleven, almost twelve years ago now, where it all began. That in and of itself takes a long time to tell. I didn't whitewash the pertinent details, although I confess to having given her a slightly condensed version. But I still had to tell her all the other things we've managed to get ourselves into during all the rest of those years. I kept talking, and she kept listening. Any time during the tale, she could have screamed and headed for the hills, but to my deep surprise, not to mention appreciation, she's still seated with me, drinking coffee, listening carefully. Her expression is thoughtful, intrigued. Some of my revelations bring deep concern, but she's still there. She has yet to speak, though. "You've certainly seen some action," she understates, laughing quietly. "I think you're one of the few women I've spoken to that didn't accuse me of making it up," I chuckle back. My tone is light, but the relief I feel is immense. She shakes her long braid. I love her hair. I wonder how it looks when it's unwound, hanging loose around her... I wouldn't mind finding out. The lovely hair frames an intelligent, rounded, lively face, with dark, sparkling eyes that glint with mischief. "Mel, you know I've been an ER nurse for thirty years. I've seen some pretty amazing things in that time." "Yes, I've enjoyed the stories." Well, most of them. Some nursing humor is lost on me. "Well, the ER is one of the most tragic, disgusting, hilarious places on earth. But it's not just work, Mel, it's my life." She motions the waitress over for a refill. They should just leave the pot on the table. "As you know, I'm divorced. Have been for a long time. I've never told you about it." "You don't have to if you don't want to." I really have no desire to relate the details of my own divorce. Mel asked about my work, but thankfully left that aspect of my personal life alone. She laughs. "It's old news now, but it might give you some insights as to why I'm fairly shock proof." "So what happened?" "Well, on the surface, it's the same old same old. He left me for another woman. The twist was, he was the other woman." Well, no wonder I was having trouble locating him. Probably changed his name. None of us thought to look for a woman. "Bill became Willow about two years after he left me. He hoarded the child support so he could go to U Wisconsin and go through the change. Personally, I thought he was nuts. Why would you want to change yourself to be able to wear pantyhose?" She sighs. I can get behind that, I've worn the horrible garment. For Halloween, of course, and only because we lost a bet with Mulder, but I'll tell her that one another time, assuming she's sticking around; by giving me the details of her past life, I'm thinking it might be a possibility. I hope so. "I take it he didn't see the children?" I think this is the case, and a particular thorn in her side, even more than the unpaid support. "He felt that at the time the children would be too young to understand. Perhaps he was right. I've explained it to them, but how the hell do you tell your kids that their father doesn't want to be their father anymore?" That saddens her, and me. What I wouldn't have done to be a father to my kids... If I'd had the chance, believe me, I would have. Unfortunately, when it came time to decide custody issues, I didn't have many cards to play. I was broke, trying to make a living selling pirate cable and keeping Langly from being too much competition. It was a year or so before we met Byers, actually. "And to this day, that's how they see it. Their daddy didn't want to be their daddy. Of course it's much more complicated than that, but kids, they don't understand that." "I could see why." She smiles at me. "Enough of my troubles. It's old news, and I've made as much peace with it as I can -- in other words, a lot of it will always be unresolved, but I have a life to live." She winks at me. I feel my heart start to race, and my cheeks grow warm. Thank God I'm not pale like Byers and Langly, or I'd have a major blush attack going. "Tell me about what you've done since you left Harrisburg in January." We haven't gotten past that point yet. She smiles. "I really would like to know. "Well, you know we bought a house." This seems a gentle enough way to ease into it. "So you said. Tell me all about it." "It's a money pit." It is; I have visions of that Victorian monstrosity draining far too much of our resources. "We're still rewiring and insulating the damn place. Langly hasn't set it on fire yet, but that's probably coming." God help us. "I suppose I should be grateful, now that we can actually afford the mortgage payments." "So the job in California was profitable?" "Ultimately." It's a long and winding road to how we got there, but there's still plenty of coffee left in the world. At least, I think so; Mel and I may have drunk up at least half the planetary supply tonight. "Langly did a hell of a lot of work on it." "Oh, Deborah's young man, right. I swear, I'm having more fun watching her be head over heels gaga in love with that boy. I haven't seen Deborah this happy in all the three years I've worked with her. You can see the air under her feet." She chuckles. "And there is, of course, the fact that in another few weeks, she'll be out of Dismal, Pennsylvania." "I don't know if that's so great, if you're headed for DC." "She's thrilled about it. I think having her boyfriend there is only making this more exciting for her." Mel smiles and sips some more coffee. "I just hope she gets to see him once in a while." "Touche." She clinks her mug with mine. "So what happened in California?" It was beyond total weirdness, actually. How do I tell her? "It was... very, very strange." LONE GUNMEN HQ LATE NIGHT BYERS: Everyone's been gone for a while, and it's just me and Langly again. We actually got a lot of work done today, despite our diversion. I'm still feeling a mild buzz, but only enough to be relaxed and at ease. It was nice to be able to just let go for a while, be a little giggly and unfocused. Ringo and I have been talking since everyone left, about a lot of things. Somehow we've landed on poetry, and I've been complaining for about the last half hour about bad poetry. We've been looking up examples on the net, so that I can illustrate the difference to Langly, who's never been much into literature, much less any kind of poetry. "Now here's one," I'm pointing to a particularly bad example in an online poetry journal, "that I wouldn't use for fertilizer." I swear, it's almost worthy of Bulwer-Lytton. "Well, yeah, John, but you haven't really talked much about good poetry yet. Like, how do most people tell the difference? I mean, I think Sari writes really good poetry. Especially that stuff she was reading at the Bean for me and Deb. Oh, man, that poem I sent her, I've seen it everywhere on the net lately." I groan. In all the confusion, I never got around to telling Sari what Langly had done. "She's probably going to have your ass on a plate, Ringo. You do know that she makes part of her living from this, don't you? I don't imagine that she's going to be very happy that you've published one of her poems before she was ready to release it." He looks sheepish. "I never thought of that," he says. "I... um... guess you're gonna tell her, aren't you?" "What would you suggest instead?" "Well, if nobody tells her, she won't know, right?" I shake my head. "I suspect that even if we don't tell her, she'll find out eventually, and then you'll have to tell her it was you who let it out on the net." "But, like, it's a totally hot poem. She writes really awesome poetry, Byers. I just wanted to share some of it with Deb. I mean, wouldn't you wanna share something with Sari if you thought it was really awesome?" He's got a bit of a pleading look in his eyes. I have to sympathize. He's right, if I found something I liked that I thought she would, I might do the same thing, but I'm not going to encourage him to do it again. "I would have asked first." He looks at me. "That's the problem with you, Byers." He shakes his head and sighs. "My eyes are like totally gone. Time for a break." Mine are too; they still get tired far too easily. He heads over to the red couch, and we both plant ourselves there and lean back into the thinning upholstery. "Things have really been a lot different around here this year," he says quietly. I nod. They certainly have. Here isn't even the same 'here' we started in. "I mean, we've been through hell and back, we've been shot at and beat up and almost killed and..." he slows into silence. "But you did meet Deborah. That wasn't a bad thing." Meeting her and having her out to see him really has brought about a change in him. He's showed some real signs of taking more responsibility for himself and his life since then. He smiles. "Yeah, that was a real good thing, dude. It was almost worth what I went through to end up in her ER." He chuckles but then his face sobers. "Not like I'd wanna do it again, though. Rough price to pay to meet somebody to love." Langly looks at me, cradles his hands behind his head. "It was sorta like what we went through when you met Susanne, but with a happier ending." I can't help but twitch at the comment. It doesn't hurt quite as much as I thought, but the memories are still very painful. "You know, John, I haven't heard you talk about her in quite a while. I mean, not like you used to. It's like... it's kind of a relief, really. Are you doin' okay about it?" Doing okay? I have to think about that one for a while, and I close my eyes to focus a little better. It takes a few minutes, but Langly waits, saying nothing. His capacity for patience seems to have increased this year as well. "I don't really know," I finally admit with a sigh. "I guess so. Thinking about her doesn't hurt so much anymore. I guess that's progress." Langly nods. I don't think we'd be talking about any of this under normal circumstances. Most of the time, when I talk about these things at all, it's with Frohike, or lately, with Sari. I have to wonder how much of this is the weed talking, and how much of it's me, finally willing to discuss it with Langly. He's always been pretty cavalier about it, except when one of us has been having nightmares, but this feels okay, at least for the moment, so I continue. "Talking about it has helped a lot more than I thought." "That what you and Sari talk about? Susanne?" He's curious, cautious. "Like, I don't know the names of Deb's old boyfriends, and I really don't want to, either." "Sometimes. We talk about a lot of other things too, though. Sometimes she talks to me about Barry. It amazes me that she survived that marriage." Some of the things he did to her just turn my stomach. If he wasn't already in prison, I'd put him there again; a dozen times wouldn't be enough. The anger I feel toward him almost overwhelms me sometimes. How could that bastard hurt her like that? Langly shakes his head. "Man, that had to suck, getting beat up by her old man and all. I don't understand why she didn't like pack up and leave him earlier." "It wasn't for lack of trying, Ringo, you know that. He was stalking her constantly." "I know, but really, dude, it was a good thing you two met each other. You've been real different since you met her. I mean, not like in a bad way, but..." "Langly, don't go there," I snap. I'm angry that he'd bring up Sari in that context. He holds up his hands in front of him to stop me. "Whoa man, whoa, I wasn't going anywhere near that. I know you guys are just friends, okay? Peace out. I'm just saying that she's been good for you. And, like, you've been good for her too, from what Devi says. I mean, I don't think you've ever been happy since I met you, not really. Not like you weren't okay to be around or in a good mood, or didn't laugh or smile sometimes, but like, just happy. You know, feeling like it's good to be alive. But that started to change after you met her. It's like you were never quite... I dunno, maybe like there was something missing, something that would let you be happy, and when Sari came along, she kinda helped you find it." "I... she..." He's right. I remember how, for years, I felt that my life was empty. There's still a hole there, but I'm feeling it less these days. Maybe it's gotten smaller. Sari opened my eyes, showed me that I have more than I ever knew. "You're right, Ringo. I guess for a long time, I always felt like part of me was missing, and that part was Susanne, but Sari helped me see it wasn't her, it was... maybe it was just being able to talk to someone who would listen without trying to judge me, without trying to tell me how to run my life. I mean, sometimes I can talk to Mel, but you know how he is." He snorts. "Oh yeah. Thinks he's our mother. Always trying to tell us what we're doing wrong and how to do it his way." I nod. We've both lived with the man long enough. We know he cares about us, loves us even, but he usually shows it by treating us like we're his kids. I think we both understand it better now, after Mel told us about his brother, but it still grates sometimes. He's easier on me than my dad ever was, though. I tried so hard to be the man my dad wanted me to be, but I've never managed to measure up. When I entered this life, started doing what I had to do to warn people about the conspiracies, the hidden dangers, he turned his back on me, and we haven't spoken since. I wish it was different. I wish he was willing to see the truth. I wish he'd leave our politics out of it and just acknowledge me, treat me like I'm still his son. I never wanted to fight with him, alienate him. All I really want is for the two of us to get along, to be a family again. "Sari's never been like that with me, never tried to tell me what to do with my life. She just... she just listens. When I talk to her, I don't feel like she's going to laugh at me -- except about the aliens -- or pretend to be my mom, or hold my mistakes against me. She doesn't tell me I'm a failure or a disappointment. I don't know, I guess she's made so many mistakes of her own, she really doesn't feel it's her place to rub anyone's nose in theirs. It's like she holds up a mirror, and I can see myself in it more clearly than I could before. She asks me questions, makes me think about things in new ways. And she would do that for anyone. I've never thought she had some hidden agenda with me, like most people do. She doesn't try to use me; she's honest with me. That's something that... something that Susanne never gave me." I stomp hard on my reaction to that thought. God, it hurts. Langly leans forward, leaning his arms on his lap. "Never gave any of us," he observes, his voice much more gentle than usual. "With her, it's like she was always hiding something. There was always a sucker punch right around the corner. And me and Mel, man, we could never talk to you about it. You'd never even give us a chance. We'd say something about her and it's like, you'd just freak. We did our best, tried to help her out, for your sake, but it was always for you, Byers, not for her. And when I first met Sari, I was like really sure she was gonna be the same way. And you were in the hospital all messed up, hurt bad, and I was like totally prepared to hate her guts for getting you hurt, but I was so wrong about her. She really cares about you, like I don't think Susanne ever really did. She cares about you a lot, like we do, or maybe kinda like the way Deb cares about me." He pauses, knotting his long fingers together, and then looks down at the floor. "I'm kinda gettin' freaked about Deb coming, you know. It's like, what if this changes things? What if it doesn't work out? What if... what if we find out that we're okay long distance, but when we're in the same city we're a disaster?" He looks up at me, his blue eyes clouded and nervous. I put an arm around his shoulders. "I don't think you really need to worry about that. Deborah may not have the life experience that Sari does, but I think she's got a good head on her shoulders. She handled what happened very well, better than we had any right to expect. And the fact that she stayed after getting shot at really says a lot about how she feels about you. She really does want to be with you." I sigh. Susanne didn't. I still haven't quite been able to let go of her. What Langly's said about her is painful to hear, but I know it's true. If she had just asked for my help, instead of... she walked into my life with lies, and walked out with a lie, and I've loved her despite all of it, no matter how much it's hurt, or what it's cost. Langly's lucky; there's nothing duplicitous about Deborah. She's not a particularly subtle person, but then, neither is he. If she ever decides to leave him, they'll both see it coming, no questions. He'll never have to go through years of waiting and wondering, never knowing what she really felt, or if she really wants him. I'm even feeling jealous of him. That's a new one. "I think you two will be fine, Ringo. I don't think she'll lie to you about what she feels, or what's going on between you. I think you're really lucky to have someone like Deborah. She says what she feels, and she acts on it. If there's ever any problem, she'll let you know, and you'll both be willing to work on it together. I wish Susanne had been like that. I know what she said to me, the things she told me, but I'll never really know if she ever loved me. I'll never know if she wanted me, if she ever honestly cared for me. You... you have that certainty. It's something I'll never have." I pull away again, feeling isolated. He shakes his head. "Man, Johnny, you know I'm sorry about what happened with Susanne, what she did to you, but, like, give yourself a chance. You just need some more time. One of these days, you'll find the right lady." He looks at me meaningfully, and I can almost hear him thinking 'you already know her, you dufus' but thankfully he doesn't go there. I really don't see what Sari could possibly want with me, even if she was looking for someone. We're friends; close, even intimate friends, yes, but nothing more. Sari's courageous and strong and attractive and intelligent, and with her personality, she honestly could have anyone she wants. There are a lot of men who would be delighted to give her a good life, to give her the love she deserves. After what she went through with Barry, she needs peace and stability in her life, and that's something I could never give her. I'm just grateful and happy that she's my friend. It's already far more than I could ever have asked. "I hope you're right," I tell him. "Sari did threaten to introduce me to all her friends." We both smile. Maybe someday, if I'm lucky, I'll find someone who could tolerate living with me, who might be able to understand what I do, and cope with my life and the guys that are all I have of family anymore. And, if I'm really blessed, maybe it'll be someone who will love me despite myself, and accept my close friendship with Sari. "Byers, you're a hell of a lot cooler than you ever give yourself credit for. Like, chicks dig you." I laugh at the irony. "If chicks dig me, none of them has ever bothered to say so to me." "Maybe not, dude, but they sure check out your ass." We both laugh at that one. He's lying through his teeth, of course. "Hey, no, really -- I've seen it. Besides, Sari thinks you're hot." I choke. "She what?" I glare at him. "I thought you weren't going to mess with me about her." "No, really Byers. She said so." He's got a Cheshire cat grin on his face. "In your presence? I doubt that." "It was, like, when she and Devi were having that fight." I can't believe that. I don't remember her saying anything of the sort. "I thought you heard it." I shake my head. He nearly splits a gut laughing. "That was like just before she ran out of the room. I can't believe you didn't hear that. Man, Johnny, you are so totally hopeless." "I was a little busy at the time, as you may recall." I glare at him again. "You and Frohike were practically suffocating me to keep me from saying anything." He continues laughing. "Really, Byers. Devi thinks you're a bodacious dude too. That's what they were saying before all the screaming started." He barely manages to gasp it out through his laughter. I can feel myself turning scarlet. I can't believe Sari would say that about me; she's not attracted to me like that. Langly's trying to get my goat, and he's doing a pretty good job of it. I'm really angry now. "I thought we were having a real conversation for once. I wondered where the real you went." "Honest, Johnny, it's true. Ask her yourself when she gets back. Or ask Devi. She'll tell you the truth." He's still giggling, and shaking his head at me. "This conversation is over. Good night." I get up and leave sharply, punctuating my displeasure as I head for the stairs. He can't leave it alone, and shouts after me. "That's right, Byers -- stick your head in the sand. Hope you got a bunch of Q-tips to clean your ears out with. When Sari finally comes after you, you're never gonna know what hit you." God, what a lying sack. "I mean it, man. One of these days, bam -- neither one of you's gonna see it coming, and I'm gonna be laughin' my ass off." And here I thought we could have a conversation where he wasn't going to give me any shit about Sari. Well, that was too much to hope for. "Shove it, Langly. Go amuse yourself with some of Frohike's old copies of Celebrity Skin." I don't give him a chance to reply as I hurry up the stairs to my room. I should have known better than to confide in Langly. He's made some headway, but he still has a long way to go. I'm too confused right now to sort my thoughts out. Susanne and Sari are running through my head, and the feelings I'm having are so murky that I just don't know what to do. I wish I could just let go and never have to think about Susanne again. I wish that my emotions weren't so messed up around her, that she'd never left, that she really meant it when she said she loved me. I wish Sari was here, because I know I could talk to her, and I'd feel less confused when we were done. God, I miss her. She'll be back Saturday, but right now, those two days feel like a lifetime. I need the peace of her presence right now. It's going to be a long, sleepless night. End part 03 Things Undone 6: Road Trip, part 04 of 07 by Erynn and Sally ______ "She was already loosened like long hair, poured out like fallen rain, shared like a limitless supply." ~~Rainier Maria Rilke -- New Poems: Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes~~ ______ THURSDAY, MAY 17, 2000 DENNY'S, HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA LATE EVENING FROHIKE: "I don't know about you, but I think I'm coffee'd out," Mel announces to me as she drains her cup. "Amen to that." I won't sleep for days at this rate. On the other hand, there are things to do at night other than sleep; perhaps we'll get to some of those. I'd certainly enjoy it. Aside from the fact that I haven't been laid in ages, I'm also comfortable and at ease with Mel. She's one of the calmest people I've ever met. You don't meet many calm individuals in our line of work, or even sane ones, and if nothing else, she is the epitome of sanity -- an island of calm in my sea of madness. We step to the register to pay the check. "Let me," she says, reaching for her wallet. "Not a chance. Do you know how long it's been since I had the pleasure of a lady's company?" Or, at least, a lady who actually wanted to be in my presence. "Allow me a little old-fashioned courtesy." "Why, thank you." She's gracious about it, unlike most women in Washington, who would willingly wrestle you to the ground to pay the check. It has nothing to do with hospitality and everything to do with having the upper hand. I think Mel is far more secure than that. As we depart, she loops her arm through mine. It feels delightful. "Mel, there's a river -- well, actually, it's a creek -- that runs not too far from my house. It's very peaceful there. Do you feel like walking?" That sounds... wonderful. "I'd love to. Lead on, MacDuff." We drive a short distance past her house, warm lights emanating from the windows. "Well, I guess at least one of the kids is home," she chuckles as we drive past. "Turn here." She directs me down a small road -- and I do mean small, the Chrysler can barely fit -- and has me stop in a tiny clearing. As I step from the car and around to let her out (I'm sorry, women may be liberated, but gentlemanly responsibility is not dead, and real women are not afraid to admit it), the fragrance of spring flowers and rich pine tease my nose. I can hear the running water behind me in the slightly chill night air. There aren't many trees, just enough to ensure some privacy and peace. "It's very pretty back here," I tell her. "I come here when I need a break," she winks at me. "At least when the weather's warm." It's pleasant tonight. There's a delicate breeze that accentuates the scents around us. "What do you do in winter?" I ask her, half joking, mostly not. "Suffer." She grins wickedly. Maybe it's the moonlight, but the years seem to fall from her face when she smiles. Something about that smile makes me shed some of my years, too. "My rock's over here. Have a seat." We perch on a large, flat boulder, the only one in the area. She looks up at me, still smiling. The moon is rising; it's full and beautiful tonight. "You are a romantic, aren't you?" I say gently, rubbing her shoulders. She reaches up with a hand and clasps mine, indicating no need to release. "Guilty as charged," she says dreamily, dipping her toes into the water. She's thrown off the sandals she's been wearing on her feet. "At least in my dreams." "Doesn't sound like you've had much romance in your life." That brings out her warm laughter. "No kidding. But a girl can dream, can't she?" "Sometimes more than dream." I take her face in my hands, very gently, studying the planes of her face, her shining eyes, the long braid draping down her back." I have a question for you." "Shoot." "Um... what do you look like with your hair down? You don't have to, of course..." She smiles, releases herself from my grasp momentarily, and unwinds the elastic from the bottom of her braid. I watch as the triple weave of hair unwinds into one wavy, sweeping fall. Hello, pretty lady: it's having an... interesting effect on me. "Beautiful." I mean it, too. She laughs. "I'm 52 years old. I think beautiful is stretching it." "No." I gently draw her up against me. She sits in front of me, her back pressed to my chest, and leans her head into my shoulder. I arrange my leather jacket so that it shelters both of us. "No lie." Please, we deal in enough lies. Just for once, I'd like part of my life not to be riddled with them. We keep silent, listening to the stream roll by, watching the white moon rise high in the sky, occasionally swatting an early season mosquito. I lean over and kiss her, very softly, on top of her head. She murmurs in appreciation. "This is heaven," I whisper to her. "That it is. I'd stay here forever... except there's no indoor plumbing," she laughs. "Are you ready to go?" "Almost." She turns and faces me. She takes my chin in her hand, and moves slowly toward me. I close my eyes, almost not daring to believe that what's about to happen really is, but it's no dream this time. The kiss is soft and tender and warm, like the woman I've been cradling in my arms for what must have been hours. Reality never felt so good. After a while, we head back to her house. I'm introduced to her son Mark, who is a nice looking but rather surly young man. He barely acknowledges me, heading off to the living room to watch something godawful on TV. I can hear the canned laugh track behind us as we sit in the kitchen. Mel is trying to straighten up the mess. While she does that, I ask her if she'd mind terribly if I did some work on her phone. "It works fine. What did you have in mind?" I think the moment of truth has arrived. "Well, you know what kind of life I lead. And by drawing you into it, I know that you'll need more security. I need to be sure you're as safe as possible." She scoffs. "I've never felt as safe with anyone as I have with you, Mel." Ironic. And dangerous. "It's not safe. I've tried to tell you that. I've told you about what's been happening to us, even just this year. You shouldn't take any chances with your safety." "Listen, I've seen a lot in my time, and I know that. I'm not talking about a place in the world, Mel, I'm talking about a place in the heart." She eyes me dead on, dark eyes steady behind the wire-framed glasses. She says it in a very matter-of-fact way, as if it belongs in her world. As if the dangers that lurk in mine were, while not unacknowledged, taken as a fact to be dealt with, not a situation to be avoided. I almost weep when she says it. She puts away dishes and wipes the counters as she talks. "I haven't been looking for anyone. I gave up on the idea of being involved with anyone a long time ago. I tried a few times, but between my work and my kids and all the other shit in my life... but you just seem to accept that I'm not perfect and my life's not, either. I think it's the least I could do for you." I don't know what to say, but even if I did, I'd have been interrupted. A young woman who somewhat resembles Mel appears with a young man in tow, and there's nothing silent or subtle about their entrance. "Mom, we gotta talk about the wedding..." the young lady half-shouts as she charges in. And a good evening to you, too. "No, we do not. I have company." Her mother emphasizes the point by sitting back down at the table with me. "Mel, my daughter Lisa and her fianc. This is Mel." "But mom, it's only five weeks away!" And I thought Langly was self-centered. He's got nothing on this girl. "C'mon, we gotta get invitations..." "Pick something you like within the budget I gave you and get them printed up," Mel's voice stays steady. "But that's just it, you only gave us enough for the cheapo-cheapo invites! I mean, really, mom!" "Then send email," her mother says, not rising to the bait. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a guest." Lisa may be dense in some ways, but she understands that she's been summarily dismissed, and hauls her fianc, who has not spoken a single word, behind her. My sympathy goes out to the young man. Lisa's snarling and using words to refer to her mother that would have had mine washing out my mouth and swatting me on the behind, and age would not have been an issue. She looks up at me. "You're staying at the Sleepytime, right?" I nod. "I am." She looks at me eagerly, gently. "Would you mind having some overnight company?" I was hoping she'd say that. Oh yeah. The Sleepytime is hardly elegantly appointed, but it is clean. No HBO, but we can get American Movie Classics. We stop at the quickie mart nearby and grab some popcorn, which we pop in the store's microwave, and a six-pack of microbrew. I don't think Mel is much of a drinker from what she's indicated, but she thought a beer sounded good for our night's activities. To me, a beer almost always sounds good. Once in the room, we plant ourselves on the bed like a couple of kids at a slumber party and check out what's on. Tonight's flick is one I definitely enjoy, 'Some Like It Hot.' "This is a classic," I tell her enthusiastically. "I love this movie!" Mel is delighted it's on. " I'll confess that when Bill first bailed out, though, I couldn't watch it for a few years. You know, the gender bending thing and all." "We don't have to," I assure her. "No. It's a great film, and truly hilarious. And even I can see some humor in my own situation." She really is a unique woman if she has that sort of perspective. "I met Bill -- I know he calls himself or herself or whatever, Willow, but to me, he'll always be Bill -- after he got out of 'Nam. He was pretty messed up, and we used to spend hours watching these old movies." "Your ex was in Vietnam?" My attention is temporarily diverted from the antics of Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis. "He was. Came home in bad shape. Well, physically he was okay, but emotionally, he was a disaster. I keep wondering how much of his desire to change sex was connected to the experiences he had there." "I suspect he knew long before then that he had some... gender-identity issues." The research on the subject generally supports that point of view. "Most people only do it because they can't find any other solution. I'm told it's not an easy decision." "Do you think so?" She looks up at me, hopefully. "I don't know... for years, I blamed myself for not being a good enough wife, not being pretty enough, or caring enough..." "Believe me, it didn't have anything to do with you. You're a tremendously caring woman." She truly is. But I wonder if I should reveal that I was in Vietnam; I'm not sure how she'd take it. No fudging, Frohike; you said you were going to be honest with the woman, so be honest. "I try to be," she says gently, taking another fistful of popcorn. "Not to give you a bad rerun or anything, but I served in 'Nam as well." "Did you? My family's military." I knew that. I did check her out. I know her father retired as a colonel. She leans back on the bed and looks me over. "You're in a hell of a lot better shape than Bill ever was, that's for sure." "Don't be so certain about that." "You've done something with your life, Mel, done important things. All Bill ever wanted to do was wear dresses." He could have done it without hurting his family the way he did, but I refuse to say that. "I don't know. What we do, sometimes I feel like Sisyphus. We push the boulder all the way to the top of the hill, only to have it come rolling back down on us." "Boy, don't I know that feeling. Story of my life." She shakes her head, but then looks up and smiles at me. "I don't want to talk about Bill anymore." "What would you like to do?" I ask, caressing her back. She says nothing -- she doesn't need to. Her kiss says it all. LONE GUNMEN HQ LANGLY: Man, Byers talks a lot about finding the truth, but give him some, and he can be such a wuss. I mean, I know the thing with Susanne was, like, brutal. Hell, it was brutal enough for me and Fro, and she wasn't even our chickadee, for Christ's sake. I think he's finally starting to see the truth about Susanne. Now, if we could just get him to see the truth about him and Sari. It's like so obvious they're totally gone for each other. It's just that they're both so dense, I'm worried they're never gonna get it, and that would really suck. I mean it. They're really good together. Speaking of good together, how much you wanna bet that while I'm lying here in our new house, without my girl and no fucking air conditioning and watching some lame jackass on Conan, that Fro's there with his lady, getting it on? He's probably got AC, too. I don't know which makes me more annoyed. All's I do know is I'm wishing Deb was here... I close my eyes and think about her. Where the hell are Fro's issues of Celebrity Skin, anyway? FRIDAY, MAY 18, 2000 SLEEPYTIME MOTOR INN, HARRISBURG, PENNSYLVANIA EARLY AFTERNOON FROHIKE: I haven't slept that well in years, I swear. I don't know the time when I wake up, all I know is that the room is cool and dark, and the woman next to me is warm and light. Bliss. "Good morning," a groggy voice whispers into my neck. "Ah, you're awake. Sleep well?" I lean over to kiss her. "Wonderfully." She settles into the crook of my arm. We lie in silence, enjoying the peace around us. The only sound is the wall AC unit. I think she's dozing off again, but she comes around a few minutes later. "What time is it?" "I don't know, I can't see the clock from here." It's on the nightstand, but without my glasses, I'm utterly blind. "Me, neither." She giggles a little, slides over me to grope for her glasses, and squints at the clock. Oh yeah, that feels good, especially if she'd wiggle close a little lower. I could stand a repeat of last night's delights. "Oh dear. We'd best be getting ready, Mel." I reach for my own glasses. The clock reads 12:30, and I'm assuming that's PM, not AM. Ah, well, guess there's not really time right now to do anything properly. The Pirates-Orioles game is at six. We'll need at least two hours to drive to Pittsburgh, not to mention time to take showers and eat lunch. "We could save some time by sharing the shower," I say to her mischievously. "And conserve water in the process," she smiles at me. Hmmm... maybe we'll have enough time to do something properly after all... We make for the bathroom. "Who'd ever think eco-consciousness could be so much fun?" I whisper into her hair as the hot water runs over us. We stop at her house to get some things to take to the game and have some lunch. Her daughter is there. Mel says her son probably is, too, but it's rather early for him to be up and around -- at 2 p.m. "Where were you?" Lisa demands of her mother. Mel simply smiles benignly. "Where do you think I was?" Lisa rolls her eyes. "I don't believe it, you slept with him. That's so... so... that's so gross!" Mel should smack that child upside the head, but instead, we both burst out laughing. Lisa looks annoyed, but more than that, she's confused. We're enjoying it for all it's worth. "Like ewwww, you guys are old!" "And this would be a problem because?" Mel asks her between laughs. "It's just... mom, that's just disgusting! My mother sleeping with someone! Ugh! Old people shouldn't have sex, it's just... wrong!" Mel smiles at her again. "That's your opinion, dear, but at least I can't get pregnant." Touche, woman, you go. Especially since she's left Lisa speechless. I get the impression it may be a first. After Lisa's left the room, Mel pours us each some iced tea. "I don't think that was quite a fair shot about the pregnancy thing," I say, but I'm smiling, rather archly. "Well, true; since I no longer have the equipment, I guess that would make it a moot point," Mel agrees. She sighs. "Kids. They think love is only for the young and the beautiful." "Well, maybe not for the young. But you're definitely beautiful." She gazes at me lovingly. "You know something, Mel? You make me feel that way." "Well, you are." "Well," she says, grabbing a baseball cap from the hooks on the wall, "how do I look in this?" She's sporting her Pittsburgh Pirates cap. "Hmm, it'd look better with an Orioles logo on it." Mine's in the car. "I could get you one." "Mel, there are many things I'd love to share with you, but the Pirates are my team. Asking me to wear an Orioles cap -- that'd be sacrilege." Well, we'll never compromise on baseball, that's for sure. But it might be a hell of a lot of fun to argue about it for a long time to come. LONE GUNMEN HQ AFTERNOON BYERS: I'm not talking to him, I swear, I'm not. I don't care how nice he thinks he's trying to be, I refuse to speak to him until he apologizes for what he said about Sari and me. He thinks he's going to laugh his ass off over us? I sincerely doubt it. What time is it, anyway? Only 28 hours until she gets home. End part 04 Things Undone 6: Road Trip, part 05 of 07 by Erynn and Sally ______ "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 it 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. Like 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 05 Things Undone 6: Road Trip, part 06 of 07 by Erynn and Sally ______ "And you yourself, how could you know what primordial time you stirred in your lover." ~~Rainier Maria Rilke -- Duino Elegies: The Third Elegy~~ ______ SATURDAY MAY 19, 2000 DULLES AIRPORT EARLY AFTERNOON BYERS: International flights always seem to be late. It isn't just the interminable wait at customs that makes me feel that way, but the fact that they always seem to be delayed or rerouted or hung up by bad weather; it's always something. Sari's flight back from India is no exception. They touched down about twenty minutes late, and now I'm waiting by the customs gate for her to come out. There are always several flights arriving at the same time, and when the display flashes her flight number, I get up again to look. No sign of her yet. I wonder what's keeping her? I go back to pacing aimlessly. I know she didn't take much with her, but from what I've seen with some of the passengers, half the plane seems to have been occupied by people attempting to import the entire subcontinent. I wait restlessly, mostly sitting in the none too comfortable seats, occasionally getting up to pace, or to peer inside the open doorway to see if she's appeared yet. Back and forth, back and forth, I watch the faces as people come out. A few remind me of Sari, but it isn't the same. Eventually, she appears, with one carry-on bag over her shoulder. She hasn't spotted me yet, but she's scanning the crowd. "Sari!" I shout, and wave as I move toward her through the flowing tides of humanity. "Hey, John!" She hurries in my direction, and as we meet she gives me a warm, enfolding hug that I return gratefully. We stand, holding each other close for a few minutes, and then she kisses me on the cheek. "It's so good to see you again." It really is good to see her, to be close to her. I sigh and softly return her kiss with a touch of my lips to her cheek. It's the only time I've done it, and I hope I'm not overstepping the bounds of propriety, but she slides her cheek along mine in a gentle caress, with a little 'mmm' sound. "I'm glad you're home," I tell her quietly, "I've really missed you." I knew while she was gone that I missed her, but it's only at this moment that I realize just how deeply I've been feeling it. Her return has lifted a weight from my soul that I didn't even know I was carrying. "That feels nice," she whispers in my ear, her breath sending a slight tingle down my back. I close my eyes at the feeling. "I've missed you, too, John. I wish I could have called while I was away." We separate and I take her shoulder bag; she doesn't protest. "How's the Cardinal? And how are the guys?" I've been dreading this moment. Why I should have to be the bearer of the bad news that Frohike spawned is beyond me. Our attempt to put the cat on a diet was a dismal failure. Mel's doomed. "Um... you'll see him when we get to the van," I hedge. She looks at me warily as we move through the concourse. "Melvin got him fat, didn't he? She shakes her head. "I told him I'd make him exercise if he didn't take care of the Cardinal and feed him properly." "What did you have planned?" I ask, slightly uneasy. There's no way Frohike's going to like this, whatever it is. "We'll start with yoga at dawn and go from there," she says. I roll my eyes. At least it's a reasonably gentle exercise. No wind sprints, as we'd been fearing. But she did say they'd go from that point. Into what, I wonder? "And precisely where is the old coot?" she asks. "Pennsylvania." "Avoiding trouble, as usual, I see. Ringo?" I laugh. "Actually, Mel's visiting Deborah's friend Mel Scarlett. He's due back tomorrow sometime. Ringo's fine, being his usual annoying self." She chuckles. Her eyes fill with amusement, but she looks exhausted. I'm not surprised. International travel is hard on people under the best of circumstances, but she's still wearing the cast, and with all her recent travel and activity, I'm not sure how well she's been healing. That, and she's spent most of the last 24 hours in transit. "How are you feeling, Sari?" She sighs and wraps an arm around me as we walk. I echo the gesture, happy to be close to her again. "Exhausted. Drained. I really want to go home, have a nice, long, hot shower, and throw myself into bed." I expected as much. "I've been bathing in the Ganges for most of the last two weeks, and hot water is just irresistible right now." Now, that sounds miserable. I hope she'll ask me in for at least a few minutes when we get to her place, though. It's been a long time since we've spent any time together. I turn toward the exit, but she steers me off down another corridor and says "No, not yet. I have a couple of things to pick up at the air freight counter." "Air freight? Don't tell me -- you brought home a life sized statue of Indra or something." She laughs again. "No, but I did get you guys a house-warming gift." That surprises me. "Why? You know you didn't have to do anything like that." "I wanted to," she says, as thought this were the answer to all the questions of the universe. "What is it?" I ask, curiosity overcoming my manners momentarily. "Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, now, would it?" Well, that's a given. When we find our way down to the desk, she asks for assistance getting her items out to the van. "Perhaps I should go and bring the van around to the loading zone," I suggest. She nods, and I head out to the parking lot. I come back with the van in a matter of minutes, but there's quite a delay, and some confusion as to the labeling on the items. Sari grows visibly more tired as the time passes, and she leans against me as we sit to wait. Some time later, they're brought out on a rolling pallet. "Where's the vehicle, ma'am?" the guy asks. One of the items is obviously a rug or an immense wall hanging of some sort. The other is a large, apparently rather heavy box. "Right out here," I tell him, "the VW van." I look over at Sari. "How do you expect to get those things into your apartment?" "I don't. The rug is your housewarming gift, and the other is something for you." "For me?" She smiles and laughs. "What, you think I'd come back and not bring you something?" As the driver and I load the rug and the box into the back of the van, Sari checks on the Cardinal in his cat carrier. The box is awkward, though not nearly as heavy as I feared, but I'll need Langly's help to move these things. "Oh, Gods, this is a disgrace! Melvin is going to pay in sweat for this. Poor sweetie kitty, you're all fat. John, does he even have any ground clearance left?" "Well, only his fur actually touches the ground," I observe, trying to preserve some semblance of dignity. She stares at me. "He's got short hair, John. That doesn't exactly leave much wiggle room. I swear, that man will pay for his iniquities." With that, she finishes cuddling the cat and puts him back in his carrier. She tips the guy rolling the pallet, and we're off to face the traffic. We pass the trip to her place with conversation, telling each other about our adventures since last we spoke. I'll have to save the details of our California fiasco for a little later, when she's less tired and less likely to be upset by the proceedings. Fortunately, the rest of the month has been uneventful, at least in terms of death-defying acts of insanity. She speaks of her time in the ashram with a quiet serenity that I wouldn't expect to find in someone who had just gotten off a plane from the other side of the planet, but Sari is always surprising me. And most of the time, they're wonderful surprises; a definite relief, as I've had more than my fill of unpleasant ones in my life. I don't want any more, thank you very much. As we arrive, I can wait no longer. "So what's in the box?" I ask. "If you're that impatient, why don't you open it now?" she replies, arms crossed. Actually, I could do that, couldn't I? With a certain amount of zeal and a pocket knife, I carefully open the box. Whatever it is, it's packed in small tapestries. "Are these yours?" I ask her. "No, they're for you, along with the other contents." She waits patiently as I remove one of the tapestries. It's Durga, riding on the back of a tiger. A nice, classic piece of folk art, no tourist trash here. This, at least, doesn't surprise me. Sari has always displayed good taste. I remember her mentioning that Durga was one of the Goddesses she prayed to for protection, and considering the life I lead, I can certainly appreciate the gesture even if I don't share the belief. As I remove the second tapestry, the wood of a statue is revealed. From what I can see, it looks like Ganesha, encircled by a radius of flame, like the Shiva Nataraj statues I see from time to time. It will be a few moments before I can get the full effect. The second tapestry is a Goddess, but I'm not sure who. I show it to her. "Laksmi," she says, "the Goddess who brings wealth and good fortune." "Well, we could sure use some of that," I say, laughing. A third tapestry is wrapped around the bottom of the statue, and when removed reveals that this is a dancing Ganesha. "It's absolutely beautiful," I tell her, and I mean it. The work is really very good. It's not quite three feet tall, and will look quite stunning on top of the dresser in my far too empty room. "He's the mighty remover of obstacles, and the Lord of Knowledge," she informs me. "I figured he'd be great for the sort of work you do." That's for sure. One thing every hacker faces on a daily basis is a vast pile of traps, firewalls, ice, and innumerable other annoyances. I unroll the last tapestry to see that it depicts Brahma and Sarasvati in a multi-armed and rather... tantric pose, not unlike the Shiva/Shakti in her living room. I think I manage to refrain from blushing. There's no way I'm going to let Langly or Frohike lay eyes on this; I'd never hear the end of it. "One of the meditation images we use at the ashram," she says without a trace of embarrassment. "I'm in a Shakti tradition, you see. Sexual tantra is one of the spiritual practices of the sect, which is really very much based in Shakti mysticism and ecstatic practices. Tantra, mind you, really only means 'practice,' so when most people talk about tantra in India, they specify which one. Westerners are usually pretty fixated on this type, though, and think it's the only one." This isn't the kind of everyday conversation I'm used to, but... Sari's a Tantrika? There certainly wasn't anything in her personal records indicating this particular detail. While she's not what I would describe as truly conservative, she never struck me as the sort who would be into unusual sexual practices. Then again, I know next to nothing about tantra as a spiritual practice, or about what Sari's interests are in... um... those areas. As I spend more time with her, I find her more and more intriguing. There are fascinating depths to her that I'm only beginning to discover. "I'm... stunned. These are... ah... magnificent gifts, thank you." I wish I could say something more appropriate. I wish I wasn't blushing. I'm not used to receiving gifts that aren't high tech toys, and it's a much more pleasant feeling than I would ever have expected. What she's given me feels... right somehow, despite the fact that some of it seems extremely personal in nature, and I would never have bought anything like this for myself. "No one's ever given me anything like this before." And that's the absolute truth. "Don't worry," she says. "Your average Hindu wouldn't even blink an eye at something like this." She waves toward the tapestry. Is that supposed to be reassuring? I roll the tapestries and use them again to cushion the large statue. Well, I do need something for my walls, after all. And you know, the Brahma and Sarasvati tapestry would look really nice over the head of my bed... "Can I carry your bag up for you?" I ask. She nods. "That would be great. Right now, I'm not sure I can carry myself up the stairs." She chuckles and heads for the door of her building, lugging the Cardinal while I have her carry on. I should probably be hauling the cat. He's undoubtedly several pounds heavier than the bag. "Let me take the Cardinal," I say as she puts him down to unlock the building's entry door. She makes no protest, and so I haul both the cat and the bag up the stairs. When we're finally inside her apartment, she relaxes. I put down her bag and the cat carrier, and let the Cardinal out. He, of course must inspect every square inch of the place to see that everything is in order in his world. The green, growing scent of her plants is rich in here, though the sandalwood scent has faded from her lengthy absence. "It's so nice to be home," she sighs. "I love India, and the ashram, and I was really happy to see my folks and Kris, but it feels good to finally be back in my own space." She stretches, not unlike her cat. I love the way she moves. "Thanks so much for meeting me, John. I would have had a hell of a time getting all this stuff in my car, and it was so good to have a friendly face waiting for me." I hope she's not going to ask me to leave yet, and to my delight, she doesn't. Instead she comes to me and puts her arms around me again. I close my eyes and sigh, breathing her in. We stand and hold each other for a long time, just soaking in each other's presence. It feels so good to just be here with her; it's like all my problems and worries were left at the door. She's developed something of a tan in the time she's been gone, but still wears the scent of sandalwood on her skin. I can't believe how much I missed her. "I'm so glad you're back," I tell her, but my voice catches a little in my throat. I don't know why; I'm happy she's here. She gently releases me, and asks, "John, is everything all right?" I nod and take her hands in mine. "It is now," I tell her. It's a much deeper truth than she suspects. "I suppose I should go, and let you get your shower and some sleep," I offer, reluctant. With one soft hand, she strokes my cheek and kisses me there. "Yeah, I'm afraid so. I would love to spend more time with you, but I'm so exhausted." I can see she's fading fast. "I really need to get some sleep." Her grey eyes are fixed on mine. "Are you working Monday?" I ask. "No, I have a doctor's appointment at 11 a.m., but I'll be going in on Tuesday. I'd love to get together with you Monday, if you'd like." Oh yes. I'd like that very much. LONE GUNMEN HQ MID-AFTERNOON LANGLY: When Byers gets back, he's like totally glowing. I knew he'd be in a way better mood once Sari got home. Maybe he won't bite my ass every time I turn around now, at least for a while. "How's Sari?" He's got this far away look in his eyes. Man, he's so into her. "Tired. She was going to take a shower and get some sleep when I left. I imagine she's already asleep by now. By the way, she brought us all a housewarming gift, and a box of stuff for me. I'll need your help to get it in -- it's going to take both of us to move this stuff." "What, do I look like a pack mule or something? Jesus, can't you deal with that shit yourself?" He gives me this look. "No, really, Ringo. When you see it, you'll know what I'm talking about." I sigh and follow him out to the garage. Jeez, there's this huge roll of a rug there in the back of the van, and a pretty big box. "The box isn't as heavy as it looks, but it's pretty awkward," he says. "I think the rug should probably go in the den." "She gave us a rug? Dude, if we like wanted a rug, we could go to some cheapo joint, buy some ends, and have 'em laid out wall to wall." He just sighs and shakes his head. We start grappling with the roll, and it weighs like a ton. Wish Frohike was here, we could really use his help with it. Three would make it a lot easier to handle. "I suspect that this isn't the kind of rug you'll get anywhere for cheap," he says. Yeah, whatever. We sweat and cuss and haul that sucker into the den. Thank God it's on the ground floor. I wouldn't want to haul that bitch up the stairs to Byers' room. We cut the packing cords and tear off the paper wrap around it, then Byers and I haul it to one end of the room and start to unroll it. It's actually really cool looking, with interesting blues and browns, and cool designs, and it feels all soft, too. Byers' eyes get all big. "Whoa, dude, like this is one gnarly rug," I tell him. It is. It's awesome. "Ringo, do you have any idea what this is?" "It's, like, a real cool rug." He kneels down and rubs his hand over it, real slow. When he talks, it's like he's totally blown away. "It's a hand knotted Persian rug, Langly. From the looks of it, it's a very well preserved antique, probably an Azerbaijani Heriz, to judge by the predominant blues and turquoise, and the patterns. I don't think it's a fake, either. Do you have any idea how much these things cost over here?" I shake my head at him. I mean, I've heard of Oriental rugs, you know, but to me, a rug is just something you toss on the floor to cover up the dirt. "I suspect this would be worth at least $10,000 if you tried to buy it here, maybe more." Hell, no wonder his eyes got so big. I never heard of spending that kind of money on something to walk on. What was she thinking? "She, like, doesn't have that kind of money, does she?" I mean, we did a financial check on this chick, and she hasn't got the scratch to be tossing ten thou on the likes of us. Hell, she doesn't even have it to spend on herself. He shakes his head. "No, of course not. But this would probably be reasonably priced in India, particularly if she found it outside the city somewhere. If that's the case, she probably could have picked it up for a pittance compared to its value. And since she speaks the language over there, and she's more or less a nun while she's with the ashram, I bet she got a much better price than any tourist would." He's still down there, looking at the back of it now. "What do you mean though, like 'hand knotted'?" I get down and poke my nose real close to it next to him. "I don't see any knots." I'm practically cross-eyed. "These things are traditionally woven and knotted by hand with naturally dyed cotton, silk, and wool, and something this size could take several years to make. These things have anywhere between 200 and a thousand knots per inch of rug, and I think this is one in the upper end of that count." It does cover a lot of the den floor, probably around 15'x2o' or so. A thousand knots in every inch? Damn, that's gotta take for ever. They must've had old Azerbaijani ladies sitting around going blind most of their lives doing this shit. "You think it's like really worth $10,000? That's a hell of a lot of cash, Johnny. I mean, are you sure we want to be walking on this thing? There's gotta be a buncha little old Persian grannies rolling in their graves that we have it on the floor. Sari'd probably have a coronary." "I doubt it. They're extremely durable, as long as you don't drop your pizza all over them and you take care of them properly," he says with a pointed look. "We have to keep it clean, and wipe up anything that gets on it right away, with only water, or with a really gentle cleaner. You can't let something sit on this for half an hour while you finish watching your show." Oh, that's gonna be a pain, but like, it's a totally awesome thing for Sari to give us. She must really like us. That, and she's gotta have it a lot worse for Byers than I thought. Speaking of having it bad for someone, I wonder what Deb would look like on this thing... naked... SUNDAY, MAY 20, 2000 ON THE ROAD MORNING FROHIKE: Mel and I lingered over coffee for a while, probably longer than we should have, but it was such a delight that I didn't want it to end. Once again, the weather gods have smiled on me, and the drive home should be easy, especially considering how much money I dumped into the Chrysler yesterday. Still, it seems a mere pittance for the pleasure of the weekend. We spent last night at Mel's house. Her children gave us some strange looks, but upon getting the Look of Death that mothers employ so well, they wisely skipped further comment. I thought I would feel awkward staying in her home, but I was actually extremely comfortable. She does, after all, have a queen sized bed, and the most tender, capable hands I've ever run across. Yes, I did get my shoulder massage, among other treats. Unwillingly, I finally concede it's time to hit the road, and we say goodbye on the porch. Then we say goodbye on the walkway. And outside the car. And when I get inside the car. I'm not complaining, mind you. There were kisses mixed in every time. I feel vaguely empty and lost at the idea of leaving her, but when I complained that I would miss her, she winked and assured me that we'd be together again soon. As I make my way toward the highway, I can't help but wonder how she endured me. I was nervous that after I'd told her some of the things I did this past weekend, she'd be shaking her head and saying 'it's been nice, but hit the road Jack and don't you come back no more.' She didn't. Even when I described the events at FPS, she understood my absurd amusement with some of it. Granted, not much of it was funny, but enough of it was so off the wall that anyone would have to laugh. And the greenbacks don't hurt, either, especially now that we have that wreck of a house to fix up. Langly and Byers better not have been sitting on their asses all weekend. On the other hand, if 'Langly' and 'fire' are mentioned in the same sentence, I'm probably going to kick myself for wishing they'd been working. They say to be careful what you wish for; you just might get it. Well, I wished for Mel to accept me for what I am and what I do, and she does. That almost unnerves me all by itself. I'm much better acquainted with what to do when someone rejects me outright. But now that she's made her feelings clear, in ways, I'm worried that the hardest parts are yet to come. The only comfort I take is that she's strong enough to do this with me. I hope I can live up to her expectations. I'm sure I'll get plenty of hassle from the guys when I get home, but that's fine. Although Byers really hasn't been that bad, I suspect that with Sari's return, he's calmed down appreciably. Poor guy. Yeah, they're friends, but some day he's going to turn around and not know what hit him, and then wonder why it took so long. I hope it happens. The amusement factor alone would make it worthwhile. In the meantime, I'll just watch the two of them try to figure it out. I suspect Langly is excited at the prospect of Deborah being near him, but nervous, too, scared that it might not work out and just as scared that it might. I can empathize. On the other hand, if that house isn't shaping up when I get back, they'll both be getting something other than my empathy. Ah well, just a few more hours on the road. End part 6 Things Undone 6: Road Trip, part 07 of 07 by Erynn and Sally ______ "Hold tight to the stem of the rose you've been given. Learn what such a friend is worth. Write that in the margin and memorize it." ~~Hafiz, translated by Coleman Barks -- The Hand of Poetry~~ ______ SUNDAY MAY 20, 2000 LONE GUNMEN HQ AFTERNOON FROHIKE: Ah, home sweet home. It's not quite the same as pulling up to the old warehouse; it's actually a hell of a lot nicer. I'm happy to see that the bars have been installed over the windows -- that means the bulletproof glass went in as well, seeing as it would have to go in first. Okay, so they managed to do something in spite of the fact that Elron and company supplied them with a generous amount of happy weed. As I head for the door, I don't detect any signs of smoke or water damage. All right, Langly didn't immolate the place. Good deal. I'd take a moment to peruse exactly where I'd like to put my gardens, but decide to say hi to the boys first. They're in the kitchen when I arrive, chatting rather companionably. That's a switch from their behavior yesterday, but then again, Sari's home and I'm sure that's made Byers easier to deal with. Of course, I realize regretfully, that means that my sweet little kitty is gone. Well, maybe she'll bring him over later. I missed my kitty cat. "Oh God, it's... alive!" Langly does his Bill Murray imitation from 'Stripes,' and does it well enough that Byers starts cracking up. "Frohike, welcome home," Byers says amiably, his face bright. Well, well, if I didn't know better, I'd say the boy got laid last night. No chance of that, though. I know him too well. "Dude, you gotta check out the cool rug Sari brought us!" Langly jumps up from the table, leaving his soup and sandwich behind. Must be one hell of a rug for him to be that excited over it. They lead me into the den, which is all finally unpacked and set up, where I find the most beautiful Oriental rug I've ever seen. The turquoise and blue tones aren't modern by any stretch of the imagination. And if it's from Sari, it's the real thing; no cheap knockoffs for that girl. She's got too much class. I'm wondering why she did it, though; if this the genuine article, it cost more than we make off the paper in a year. "It's a Heriz," Byers explains proudly. I bend down to touch it. The fibers are soft and silky. No, this is definitely not something Langly would have picked up along the roadside. "Sari said she got an excellent price for it." I'm wondering how she could afford it, even if she did get one hell of a deal. "Still..." "Speaking of price, she's gonna make you pay for what you did to her cat," Langly pipes up. "What do you mean, what I did to her cat?" I'm confused here. All I did was treat the Cardinal kindly, at least as far as I can remember. Even if I was drunk, I would never be cruel to a pet. "Sari is a bit... perturbed about the amount you fed him during her absence," Byers explains uneasily. "But he was hungry! Every time I'd go out to the kitchen, he'd follow me and cry." They just don't understand. He was lonely with his mistress out of town. Can't blame him for wanting some extra comfort treats. "He's fat, dude," Langly says. "And she's pissed." "Oh shit." Sari's a nice girl, but she's shown a certain capacity for getting even in some very creative ways if she thinks she's been wronged. And if I fed her cat what, in her estimation, was too much, she'll definitely be upset. "What's she planning? And you'd better tell me, Byers, or I'll kick your skinny ass from here to Charleston and back." Langly snorts. "Guess we were wrong. We figured getting laid would improve his disposition," He looks at Byers, who nods and grins, blushing a little. "Langly, what is it with you that I'm in a room with you less than ten minutes, and I have an overpowering urge to strangle you?" I know I'm really home now. "Sari's gonna kill you, man. You know what she's got in mind?" Langly, as always, persists in being obnoxious, and is perfectly oblivious to the fact that he's annoying the shit out of me. "Oh, do tell," I say sarcastically, although I confess to being mildly worried. "Yoga. Starting tomorrow at dawn," Byers says, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Somebody tell me again why I miss these two when I go away. "What? Yoga?" I believe that involves flexibility. I may be a man of action, but flexibility is not my strong suit. It figures she would think of the worst possible way to torture me. And really, I mean, dawn? It's a reasonable time to go to bed, not wake up. Jesus. All I did was be nice to my kitty, and this is the thanks I get. Maybe she'll forget... no, not her. Oh hell, might as well resign myself to it. "Hey, we got enough new breakers in, we can get the AC working pretty soon," Langly carols happily. "Got a bunch of new outlets in, too. Finally finished the main floor. Hey, you can run the TV and the VCR all at once now and nothing shorts out! The microwave, too." Well, nice to hear some good news. I close my eyes and think of Mel... no shortage of good news there. But I miss her terribly, miss her touch, miss how she makes me feel. I sure could use a video. Byers excuses himself, saying he'll do the dishes now, Langly can do them later. Langly sticks out his tongue at him. "You're only doing it now 'cause later on there's gonna be a lot more dishes!" Byers simply snickers and departs. I head for the cabinet, hoping Langly will get his sorry ass lost. "You looking for something, Fro?" Langly asks quizzically. "I... no, my collection's gone. Probably hauled off by Mulder, or one of those bastard goons of Monroe's." "You want your 'collection,' man, forget it. It was Byers and Sari, they got it locked up tight. Literally." He's grinning at me. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Byers and Sari. They like snagged all your vids and put 'em in storage." I knew something fishy had to be going on, I just knew it. When I think about it, I realize that there's no way Monroe's men could have gotten out of the old office before Skinner's people got there, and still been able to take my entire collection along. Every last goddamn tape, even the ones under the furniture. They didn't even leave me 'Bikini Bandits in Amish Town,' for Christ's sake. If Mulder had done it, he would have spilled the story by now, just from the urge to gloat, but... "Byers? And Sari?" Oh man. It's always the quiet ones. I swear, those two could sit on a secret like that for a year, just for the payoff when I found out. I grab Langly by his collar with both hands. "Where?" I hear Byers chuckling away in the kitchen. I'm glad one of us is amused. He won't be for much longer, though. Langly shrugs and backs away, hands in the air. "Whoa, Fro, I got like no idea, dude. Narcboy won't tell me, and I ain't seen Sari. They figured you'd beat it outta me if they told m e." "Damn straight I would, and I'll do the..." God, I'm gonna kill him. I let go of Langly and rush for the kitchen. "BYERS!!!" end part 7 of 7 ~fin~