PreconceptionTITLE: Preconception AUTHOR: Laura Blaurosen mezzo4@aol.com RATING - R CATEGORY - S SPOILERS - No KEYWORDS - Pre-X-files, Mulder Angst, MSR (of sorts) SUMMARY - "The inextricable relationships in our lives that are neither accidental nor somehow in our control." DISCLAIMER - Characters presented in this story do not belong to me Thanks as always to Rachel, for pestering me always for more and for dialogue brainstorms. Also this time, a thank you to Brandon Ray who beta'd for me in Rachel's absence. Preconception by Laura Blaurosen "Fox? Fox, sweetheart, it's me." "Go away." Could she just get the picture and leave me alone for once and all? Let me just be miserable in peace. Why does she have to be coming in her all the time? Nobody wants to answer my questions, anyhow. There's no point in even talking anymore. That's exactly what's happened in the whole entire house. It's so quiet around here. Nobody talks hardly ever. And her name isn't mentioned anymore after dad blew up that one day. So I just come home from school (when I do come home right away) and study. Read. Whatever. Sit in the window and wait a lot of times. Sometimes till real late in the morning, like even 3:30. Just sit there and wait. Because she might just come back sometime. Plus I can really think then. About her. About how it was before. How great it was. Lots of times I think about that night. I think about how I'd make it all different. I put a different story in my head. A different way that it could have happened. Different words I coulda said. So that it won't seem like my fault anymore. She's still standing in the doorway. She knows I've been crying. Fucking dammit. All I ever seem to do is cry. Like a stupid baby. Or a girl or something. It's so embarrassing, cause I don't ever know when it's gonna happen. I stopped going down with Chad and Kevin on the ferry like we used to every Saturday to go buy candy and baseball cards and go to the movies. I haven't gone since before. I don't go cause I don't ever know if I'm gonna see something or hear something or even smell something that's gonna make me think about her and miss her like hell and then cry like a stupid little kid. It just comes on. I can't do anything to stop it. It's like when you get a hard-on out of the blue ëcause Miss Denning wears them shoes that tie up her legs and shit or something like that. It's totally worse than that even, and I can't take that kind of embarrassment. I miss her so much. I miss her and I miss the way everything was before. Dad says life is full of changes and that through stuff like that we learn how to deal with them. I don't want to deal with them. I want my sister back and I want my mom back and I just want everything back to the way it all was before. I bury my face in my pillow and wrap it up around my ears because they're coming again. Along with the headache and the pain in my stomach that always is there and keeps me in the bathroom alot of times. I hate eating anymore because it doesn't even stay in me long enough to make it worth it. Shit, I'm crying again, dammit. It's hurting my stomach so much to hold it all in. I can feel mom sitting down on my bed, perching herself on the edge as much as she can and sitting real close. Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry. I tell myself this over and over and so far it hasn't seemed to help. Fucking go, already, mom. I don't need you here. When I feel her rest her head on my back, I can't help sobbing even more. Mom's in a real bad way. I know she wants to make me feel better, but she's worse than me. Her eyes are always red and puffy. I think I heard dad say (I don't really listen to him anymore when he talks) that she's not going back to work, that the firm doesn't want her back. She wants to, but she can't. She's like sick or something. So if she's sick, then I must be sick too. "Your father's gone out for the night. Just you and me, Fox." She says it like I'm supposed to be all happy about it. Not anything so new. I've spent my entire life in this house alone. Strange enough, though, I am comforted by it in a way. Just me and mom, the two wacked-out Mulders. Things were definitely a lot worse when he was around. He always tried to talk and shit and nobody ever says nothing and it's just weird, I dunno what it is. But at least we're all in the same house still. She's quiet for a long time and I've managed to keep myself from crying out loud for now. She's started running her hand through my hair like she used to when I was a kid. Out of the quiet I hear, "Your father wants you to go to a counselor, Fox. He thinks it will help you deal with...it. I think it will too, sweetheart." No you don't, mom. You just listen to him because you can't think for yourself anymore. "I'm going to go to one, too. It'll all be better, Fox, you'll see. We can make this better." I want to believe her. I want to believe her because I want it all to be the same again. People are always coming over and giving us stuff now, like we're some kind of charity case. Dad hates it but at least it seems to make mom happier a little. Some lady in fake blonde hair is always bringing us cookies and food and stuff. Too bad I'm never hungry. And dad, he brings me eight or ten packs of baseball cards almost every other day. That's pretty cool, except that half of them are still laying unopened on my desk. My grandma in England sent me fifty bucks in the mail the other day. No card or nothing that I had to pretend to read. Just a note about how her church is praying for me and mom and how she wants me to come visit her. I haven't went anywhere to spend the money yet, though. Maybe England would be a good place to live. Far away from here and a whole new place with different things and where people don't know me and my family and what a royal fuck-up I am. And then maybe I wouldn't have to go to a stupid counselor or whatever. I wipe my face on the pillow and snot gets all over it. It's so gross. I feel gross and sick to my stomach. But a little better than before. Maybe it's okay that she's here. Except that she's sniffling now. I hate that I get so worried about her. It makes me feel even sicker. Sometimes she'll be sitting in the sunroom for like three hours straight, just sitting there. It'll be freezing cold and all dark out there and she's just sitting there. I'll ask her something and she'll just sit there like a zombie. Guess it isn't much different than when I sit in the window, but I'm worried someday I'll walk in there and the room isn't the only thing that'll be cold. It's not fair. It's not supposed to be like this. She's my mom. She takes in a sharp breath and I turn and look at her. She looks at me and her chin's all quivery. "Mom, don't cry. It's okay. It will be okay." I say it, but I don't really know. It makes me wonder if that maybe parents think that same thing when they stuff like that. Like they just say anything that they think'll make you feel better. All the stuff they somehow know you wanna hear, but they really don't know anything really. "I'll, I'll go to that counselor or whatever. Just don't cry, mom. Don't cry." She smiles as much as she can and I touch her face tentatively. "You're a good boy, Fox. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Shit, I'm crying again. Something comes over me and I grab her around the neck and hug her. And instead of moving away after a while, I just stay there, because I almost can't move. So we sit and cry together. "It was raining the day you were born, Fox," she begins and it's so weird because just like in the movies, it's starting to rain outside. Mom keeps on talking and I listen to her and the rain. "Your father wasn't here, I had to call your grandma Mulder. I wasn't scared, though. I just couldn't wait for you to be here. So I could see you in person. I already knew you. Knew what food you liked, what music made you happy, the fact that you wanted a puppy. I just couldn't wait to see you, to hold you. So that we could be together. Mommy and her baby Fox." She was whispering her story and holding me tighter now, sorta rocking me. I should be feeling real weird about all of this, I should be telling her to get the fuck away. But I think she needs me. I think it's making her feel better. And that makes me feel a little better sorta. "We had a lot of fun together, you and I. I'm sure you don't remember a lot of it. Your father had wanted me to get a nanny for you, but I wouldn't have any part of that. These women around here whose children are raised by other people, I didn't want that for my baby." She stops and cries a little. "Your father was really proud of you, too. He was so impressed that we had, well, that you were even born. He couldn't believe it was possible. Our little miracle, he'd said. Well, that was when he was younger. That was before. There was a time when he was full of life and promise and zealousness. That was before, though. But the three of us used to go to the zoo, remember, Fox? You loved the elephants..." It was the rhinoceros I liked, but it doesn't make a big difference. "...and we'd go to the park and at the summer house, daddy would light the grill and we'd have hot dogs and sweet corn and we would watch fireworks from the beach and I'd wrap you up in that big ugly old gray blanket and you'd sit in my lap and fall asleep there and daddy would have to carry you into the house..." Half this stuff I don't remember, she's right. I remember the fireworks and the sweet corn. But I don't remember dad being there half the time. He was there a lot of the times, but I just mostly remember me and mom. We were all together quite a bit then. Until she had the baby. It was different then. Really different. Then dad was gone even more. But still it wasn't terrible. Not like it is now. It's totally unfair. Mom shouldn't have to get sick because of something I did. Something I might've made happen. I know I didn't really do it, but I said it. I wanted it. Shit fuck. I'm such a stupid moron. A moron and a mental case. "I'm sorry, mom," I say and I can't help crying harder because of what I want to tell her. "I'm sorry she's gone." But I can't say it. She doesn't need to know it might be my fault. She doesn't say anything, just keeps holding me so tightly that it's almost getting too hard to breathe. But I just let her do it because I don't know what else to do. Her tears are all over my T-shirt and my own snot's running into my mouth now. This is my new reality, I guess. It's like changing schools or moving, only in a real bad way. Then I realize I don't know what I'm gonna do the rest of my life. It's a long time to spend being miserable, to spend heaving over the toilet every day, to spend worrying that my mom's gonna turn into a vegetable. Maybe she'll come back. Maybe someday I'll wake up and dad will say "Look Fox, your sister's here." xxxxxxxxxxxxx 2 years later No taxation without representation, idiot. Can you hear me, you ugly dumbfuck? God, I can't believe how stupid these people are. I mean, come on, it isn't rocket science I'm so fucking bored. I'm bored and sick of these people. Same dumb people since I was five years old. I hate this school, I can't even believe my fucking dad wouldn't send me to the same school as Kevin. And I'm stuck here with Chad who I've only now realized now that Kevin's not around, is really irritating. Only consolation in all of this is that mom seems happy that I couldn't convince dad to send me away to school. Relieved almost. So I'm here, at the same stupid academy with Chad Dorman and a bunch of little kids. They're all outside right now-the third and fourth graders. I used to watch her play out there, her and her friends. She had a lot of them, she was like the leader, they all wanted to know what she wanted to do, wanted to be doing what she was doing. Little girls congregated all around her, like she was the queen of her grade. They'd play foursquare a lot of times, just like they are now, because that was her favorite game. *Samantha's* favorite game. Shrink says I gotta say her name more. Samantha. Sounds like I'm swearing. I get about the same reaction at home if her name is mentioned. Samantha, dad, it's Samantha that's gone. She's not in the house anymore mom, Samantha's gone. Gone. God, I think I'm starting to forget what her voice sounded like. "Mister Mulder?" "1682." "Oh, then you were listening. It's difficult to tell when you're staring out the window and not looking up at the board." Yeah, yeah laugh it up. The bitch is a regular Carol Burnett. I'm not looking at her, I don't care what she does to me. Thank God, the bell just rang. Now I can get the fuck out of this hell on earth. "Everyone is excused with the exception of Fox Mulder. Mister Mulder, will you come to my desk, please?" Shit. "Wanna go do something 'er somethin' tonight?" Chad asks me as he passes by. "Can't. I gotta read To Kill a Mockingbird." "You haven't even started it? The test is tomorrow!" I shrug. "So?" "So? It's like 300 pages!" "Yeah. I'll read it tonight." He seems really confounded by that thought, but then again, it doesn't take much for Chad to get that way. "Alright, well, I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says simply, not at all visibly concerned with whether or not I had really told him the truth. "Mister Mulder? I asked you to come up here," the warden commands me again. I walk slowly up to the stocks which pass as her desk, and prepare myself for a flogging about how I need to hang on her every word every second of the class. She's stares at me, sighs heavily twice and shakes her head. Give it up, old lady. "I don't know what's happened to you, Fox Mulder. You are a bright boy..." Blah blah blah blah. I'm not listening I'm not listening I'm not listening... She pauses and I hope that she's through with her tirade. "Uh...I really gotta go, I've got to..." "Where is your project, Fox?" "My wha-?" Oh shit. Shit shit shit. I totally forgot. Fuck. "I gave the class 4 weeks to complete it. Where is yours?" "I uh-" Shit shit shit, what do I say? Oh shit, if I don't turn it in, I'll get a C in the class. Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. Can't see how it matters anyway, it's only first semester. "I have given you extensions on every one of your assignments so far this year. Do you know why I've done that, Fox?" Wonder if she knows she's got mustard on her shirt. Man, I really could use a cigarette. I look at the clock. Gonna be late for my session if she doesn't let me go soon. God, I'm hungry. "Are you listening to me?" No, if you want the truth, lady, I really don't give a fuck about you or your dumb projects or your stupid-ass assignments. "I've done it because I think you are one of the smartest students I've ever had. I think you have the potential to do great, great things. You are extremely bright, Fox, but you have got to start following the protocols." Yeah, whatever. "I can't keep giving you breaks like this. And you cannot skate by like this forever, Fox. You're going to have to start..." Maybe if I start looking at the door, she'll get the idea. I really gotta get to that session. "Listen, this is all real great, but I have somewhere I have to be." She purses her lips and sighs, looking very disgusted. I just stand here because some pathetic part of me is still worried about what this old lady thinks about me. "Well," she says then sighs that stupid sigh again. Then she gets a pathetic look on her face, a look I haven't seen on anyone's face for a long time. "Fox, is it your...is it her? Are you still thinking about her? Because if that's what this is all about..." "Don't even start with me, Miss Pfister, 'cause you don't know what the hell is going on in my life and you don't know anything about that. So don't even waste any of your phony empathy on me. I'm not going to listen." I think I've really freaked her out now. I'm yelling so loud I'm almost frightening myself. But she just has no business even asking me about her. Nobody does. "Well," she says in a shaky voice. "Then I suppose you won't be getting that extension on your project after all, since you're choosing not to listen." She stares at me for a long time like she's waiting for me to apologize or something. I grimace in a way that tells her not to break my heart that way. "Whatever. Can I go now?" She sucks her shrively lips inward and clears her throat. Fuck, I think she's going to cry. Fuck, I didn't think she took me that seriously. "Yes," she speaks and then clears her throat again. "Go then, Fox." I turn away right away, cause I just know she's gonna let loose if I don't and I'm not sure if I can manage not to do the same. Fuckhead. What kind of a fucking loser makes his teacher cry? It's just that she pushed me too far. Too far. xxxxxxxxxx 3:45 p.m. I barge into Doc Peters' office totally panting and out of breath. "Sorry, Doc, my teacher, she kept me late." The old man smiles and nods, telling me to take a seat. He finishes writing something and grabs his notebook. I love this place. It was so completely not what I was expecting when mom and dad sent me here, but the doc is really the best. He's so smart and he's taught me a lot. Plus he listens to me. And I talk a lot. And he listens to every last word. "So, Fox, how is school so far this year? You haven't mentioned anything about it yet. Do you think it's challenging enough?" "Um, not really, no. It's really, really easy. It's boring it's so easy. I don't even do my homework half the time anymore 'cause it's like who cares, ya know?" He nods slowly and sips from the glass of water on the table next to his chair, just like he always does. I turn myself in the huge overstuffed chair so that my legs are hanging over the arm and break into the pack of seeds in my pocket. Never did get to have that cigarette. "I mean, I dunno, it's not horrible or anything. It's just like, well, I don't really care about it, ya know? I just go and go back home. Well, and come here, but you know. School's just totally unimportant to me. It's not like it really matters in the like 'grand scheme' of things, either." "The 'grand scheme'?" "Well, yeah the big picture or whatever you wanna call it." "So are you saying that you don't think that school is going to help you later in life? You don't want to go to college?" "Well, no, like, what for?" "Well, for one, you are extremely smart, Fox. I don't think you even realize how smart you really are. I think you'd do very well." "Yeah, but what is that gonna get me? A piece of paper and some letters after my name? Who cares?" "You don't think it will help you get a better job? A job where your talents, your gifts would be best used?" "Yeah, but would I even need to go to college for that?" I wait for him to say something to that, though I know I'm probably not gonna get a response from him. But I really wanna try to make him see it my way. " ëCause, see this guy I know, his brother's at Harvard, ya know and there's this guy on his floor, he just quit school and he's like totally smart, but he's quitting *Harvard*! My dad says it's like totally hard to get into that school." I look at doc's face for a reaction, but as usual, there is none visible. "Yeah, you see he's done like this computer programming stuff, I don't know what exactly, but it's like so totally amazing and like IBM wants him to come work for them but he's already even started his own computer company! And I guess it's gonna be really huge or something, 'cause he's like the only person whose ever done what he did." Doc nods and is silent for a while. For the first time I notice that he looks sad or upset or something. I thought he'd be interested to hear this story. "And see, he doesn't need to get a degree or anything." "Just because he knows how to program computers doesn't guarantee him success. But, then again, I do concede that a college degree doesn't really guarantee one anything either." He takes a sip of water and rubs his one eye as though he's really tired or something. "But Fox, what do you know about computers?" "Uh, I know how to hook up the coleco game to my TV so I can play pong in my room." He smiles at me in a way I don't think I've ever seen my parents smile at me. This is why doc is so great. I can say anything to him and I know that he's not gonna judge me or be totally negative or like make fun of me. I think I like him better than my dad. Sometimes. No, most times. "What about coming here, Fox? Do you mind coming here?" "No! No, definitely not. I like coming here like, better than anything else I do I think." He nods slowly and for some unknown reason I'm getting really nervous. He almost seems like he's got something to tell me. Something important. Something bad, though. "Fox," he begins and sighs deeply. He's *never* acted like this before. "What? What is it, doc, what's wrong?" I turn in the chair so that my feet are flat on the floor and I'm perched on the edge. "Are you feeling alright?" "I'm fine, Fox, I'm fine. That is not...not the problem." I watch him close his notebook and set it on the table and suddenly I realize that I can feel my heart beating in my throat. My eyes are open wider than my mouth, which is getting drier and drier with everyone of doc's sighs. "Fox, your father came to see me last night." Why do I feel immediately worried and horribly guilty for everything I've ever told doc about dad? "He was very adamant that we discontinue your sessions." A huge lump forms in my throat and I instinctively bite the inside of my cheek. "But-" "I told him I didn't think that you were ready yet, but that didn't seem to matter to him." He has started to pause 5 seconds between each of his statements and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to talk or what. He seems to be having a hard time saying these things. All I know for sure is that I am in total agreement. I don't want to end the sessions. Everything will become quiet again. I can't handle not talking to no one. "As a doctor and psychiatrist, I have gotten to know many people and help them to deal with their problems. But I have not known anyone quite as remarkable as yourself, Fox. I am not at all averse to admitting that I've grown quite fond of our times together and of you yourself, Fox." He pauses to clear his throat and take a sip of water. He sticks his fingers in the corners of his eyes and I'm having to try even harder to control my own tears. I had no idea he felt that way. Not THAT much anyway. "I-uh...I'm going to miss you, Fox." Jesus, each time he says my name I'm closer to out and out crying. I haven't cried in front of him since the beginning. This is not happening. He can't really mean that... "You don't mean that we...We don't really HAVE to stop, do we?" "No, I'm afraid we do. Your father was not pleased that we had even gone this long. He...He was looking for an end result I suppose and when I couldn't offer him a concrete outcome he felt as though the time had been in vain." "And the money..." I mumble. "I'm sorry?" "I'm sure he feels it was a waste of his money." "Well, yes in fact, he did mention that as well." "Fuck!" I cry almost without sound, not really caring that it it's the ONLY time I've ever sworn in front of the doc. "How...why does he do this? God! It's so totally unfair! He can't do this! It's not his decision to make, is it?!" I'm holding my head in my hands and I wait for him to say something, give me that reason, but it doesn't come. I look up to see him pulling out his handkerchief and then wipe his eyes. "I'm afraid he can, Fox." "But-but-but, wait, wait. I've got money of my own, and my grandma, she's loaded, she could pay for my sessions." He just shakes his head the entire time I'm speaking. After several moments he says, "It's not about the money, Fox. He doesn't want you to have the counseling at all. He was more than clear about that." "But he CAN'T do that. He CAN'T-" But doc is shaking his head still. "That is where you are wrong. I cannot say much about it, Fox, but what I can say that I will not risk my practice over this. I cannot. I care for you deeply, Fox, but I must consider the welfare of my other patients as well." I have long since stopped trying to hold back the tears and they are streaming down my face more and more. "It's not fair." "No, no it's not fair." xxxxxxxxxx I don't know who the FUCK my dad thinks he is, but I'm not about to let him screw with my life like that. I'm almost 15, for chrissake. Well this is it, I'm gonna tell him, gonna tell him how it really is. That he doesn't have that right. How he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Jesus, I'm home already. I look at my watch and realize it's only taken me 5 minutes to run home. I'm not really surprised. I'm so pissed at that man right now I could probably swim to the mainland. That's sounding more and more like a good idea. But not until after I've dealt with him. I open the door and promptly slam it. Hard. The sound of which makes mom come running and ask me "What's going on?" "Where is he, mom?" "Who, darling?" "Dad! Where the FUCK is he?" "He's-" Dad walks out of his study and immediately my legs go weak. He's pissed already. Well good, he's gonna find out what real anger is in a second. "Is there a problem, son?" "Yeah you'd better believe there is a problem." "Teena, go upstairs," dad orders her and my nerves flare up even more. "No, mom! Stay here. There's no reason why you shouldn't be here." I turn and look him straight in the eye and say, "He doesn't make your decisions." His eyebrows raise and he says, calmly as ever, "May I ask you what is so wrong that you would raise your voice to me and address your mother like that?" "Yeah, yeah as a matter of fact you can! What the hell gives you the right to say I can't go to Doctor Peters anymore?" He chuckles condescendingly and says, "Well for one, the fact that I'm spending my hard-earned money to send you there. Although I have yet to understand why I need to explain my actions to you." I can't believe it! "Because this is my LIFE, dad, MY life that you're screwing with here. It's not all about your money or your power or the fact that you can tell mom to do whatever you want and she'll do it without question!" His jaw is set and I'm almost afraid I shouldn't be doing this. But something in me keeps driving it further. "Fox, I think you'd better stop right there before things are said that we will all regret-" "NO!" I scream louder than I had intended. "Dammit, dad, I'm not going to let you do this again!" "Fox, please," I hear mom's weak voice from the doorway to the front room. She hasn't left us entirely, but she's backed off, out of the line of fire. "No, mom, I'm not going to let him get to me this way again! I should have done this a long time ago. So should you, mom." "Alright, this stops right here!" Dad yells in his own way, which is actually at a normal level, but he has a way of making it sound like 3000 decibels. He points his finger at me and says "Do you wanna know why I cut Doc Peters off? Because he's a quack, that's why. It's been an entire year, Fox, since S-, since you started there and if this is what you have to show for it, I'm just as crazy for having sent you, the *both* of you there at all." "So you're saying I'm crazy?" "Crazy people see shrinks, so yes, I suppose that's a safe assumption on your part." "Well I'm NOT and neither is mom. At least, at least doc *listens* to me when I talk, which is more than I can say I get living in this house. He listens and he doesn't judge or try to make me into something that I'm not!" "No of course not, why why should he judge you or try to change you when we're putting dinner on his table?" Fuck you, dad, fuck you. "So if somebody was paying you then you'd listen to me." Next thing I hear is my mother's frightened gasp, 'Oh my God!' and a stinging burning pain on my face, blood in my mouth, tears burning my eyes. "William Mulder!!" "Teena, I told you to get the hell out of here!" You're a bastard, I try to say with my face. I think I see the same thing in his. I run up the stairs, slam the door to my room and desperately tell myself I shouldn't cry over this. Fucking bastard. xxxxxxxxxxxxxx I sit in the window for what seems like hours until I don't hear them screaming at one another anymore. Footsteps pound angrily up the stairs in a way only mom can do and then 5 seconds later her door slams. Dad is banging around in the kitchen and I can hear his grumbling through the vent, echoing in the heating ducts. This scene that I've never actually seen happens nearly every night anymore in this house. Next mom locks herself in her room, runs a bath and doesn't come out until the next day. Dad sleeps on the couch in his study. In the morning I wake up to the smell of coffee and dad is sitting at the kitchen table reading the New York Times, the Washington Post and Chicago Tribune thrown into the chair, having been read front to back already. Mom is making him eggs and French toast and he's telling her about porkbellies and how the Dodgers or the Celtics did the day before. She nods and makes some kind of affirming noise and that's when I come to the kitchen. Then mom makes me take something to eat on the way to school and dad asks me if I've got enough money and hands me a ten even if I tell him yes. Except...wait. Tonight somethingís different. Mom's door just opened. There's a terrible racket and it sounds like she has her keys. "Teena!" I hear dad call. "Teena, what the hell do you think you're doing?" I get up and open the door to my room quietly, just a crack. "I'm getting the hell away from here. And from you. I can't take this any longer. It stops tonight." "Where the hell do you think you're going to go now? The last ferry left hours ago. Where do you think you're going to sleep? "Where ever. I'll go to the Cassel's, to your mother's, I'll sleep in my car if I have to! Anything so that I'm not near you!" "Are you going to his house? Don't you dare, Teena, because I'll use it against you, don't even test me." "You don't own me, Bill Mulder." "As long as you have my name, I do." The door slams and dad follows out after her. From the window at the top of the stairs, I watch them scream at each other until she's in the Caddy and drives off. No mom, don't leave me here. I'm still here. What about me? I hold back the tears and watch dad storm back into the house. The door to the study slams and I hear his decanter clinking against his glass. Dad's gonna get wasted again. I wonder if I was to jump out of the window what would happen to me. Probably wouldnít be enough to kill me. I'd probably paralyze myself. I'd be a quadriplegic in a wheelchair. Then mom would *have* to come back and take care of me. Maybe that would be enough. Except then I couldn't take a piss on my own. That's kind of a far cry from having a peg-leg. Fuck. It's so cold in here. Mom's gone. I'm completely alone now. I plop myself back down onto my bed. I hear a scratch on my door and George comes creeping through the small crack. He whimpers a bit and cocks his head at me. His old ratty tail wags in a half-assed gesture of confusion. "Hell if I know, George. The whole world's fucked up." I can't sit in here anymore. The air feels so thick, so repulsive I'm gonna choke. I grab some seeds and the copy of To Kill a Mockingbird I was supposed to have read 4 weeks ago. "Wanna go for a walk, boy?" Probably should have put something on over this T-shirt, but I'm already half way down by the water now. It occurs to me that mom usually tells me when I should wear more clothes if I go out. "Fucking dog, come on! Quit sniffing that tree." George always stops and sniffs that tree, even today. I think he's still looking for her. He's a pain in the ass but he was her dog. He's as old as she was-is. As old as she would be now-is now-whatever. She used to play with her Barbies and stuff, right there, under that tree. And I would climb up into it and drop stuff on her head and she'd cry and go tell mom and I'd just sit up there like a big jerk and laugh until mom made me come in the house. Wow. That's the most I've remembered about her in a long time. I'll have to remember to tell doc. Shit. Goddammit, there's somebody on the rock! MY rock, the one that sits up high and looks out onto the ocean, but is still out of sight. It's nice and flat and I can lay down on it and read or write or just watch the water. But now some stupid girl is sitting up there like she owns it or something. Technically she's on our property. Technically. At least that's what I'm gonna tell her when I tell her to get the hell down off my rock. All I wanted to do is be out here alone. I wish George was a huge German Shepherd and not this wimpy little Scottie dog. I kind of feel like a jerk-off walking up to her with this stupid little dog pouncing alongside me, barking at and chasing down each stone I happen to kick. Sorry, Sam. "Hey, you! Yeah, little girl, who the hell do you think you are sitting up there?" Maybe that was a bit much, but dammit she needs to know who she's dealing with here. "You know this is a private beach." "Private beach my eye! Nobody's got a private beach around here. I can go anywhere I want, Fox Mulder." Oh shit oh shit oh shit. I'm closer now and I see that it's not a little girl at all. It's Becky. Becky Tartaglia. Oh fuck, she must think I'm a total loser now. Well more so than I already know she thinks. "Oh, Becky, it's you. God..." Okay, she's cute, but your heart can stop racing anytime now. "I thought you were some stranger or something." Some stranger or something? What the fuck is that? "So you were gonna yell at a total stranger like that? Tell me, Fox Mulder, what were you gonna say to me if I'd turned out to be a total stranger?" I have no earthly idea because I just realized the fact that Becky's not in her uniform and she's got this paper-thin dress on that's like all flowy and stuff, kinda like a hippie dress, I guess. And damn my eyes if I don't think that the moon is sending light through it and I can see her underwear. Her hair is out of those braids too that she usually wears and it seems like sheís got on less make-up than she usually wears at school. Man, is she beautiful. She looks like a totally different person than she does at school. Totally different. "Well, Fox Mulder? Are you just going to stand there or are you going to defend yourself? "Uh, hi Becky. You look really...nice." What a fucking moron. 'Are you gonna defend yourself?' and my answer is 'You look really nice'? What the fuck is that? Quick, Mulder save yourself while there's still time. Run as fast as you can back to the house and maybe you'll still be able to face her at school. But she laughs through her nose and smiles and shakes her head and I'm entranced. "Uh, it's just that...Well, this has always been kind of like my spot, I guess. I come here when I need to get away from everything. When it gets too crowded at my house, you know?" "Crowded?" She asks. "Your house gets crowded? Isn't it just you and your ma up there all the time?" "And my dad," I answer almost defensively. "And my dog." She obviously doesn't understand. "That's like solitary confinement. I've got 9 brothers and sisters and I've gotta share my room with three of them. It sucks." My cheeks blush to hear her say the word 'sucks.í "You don't even have any idea what that's like. In my house, you are NEVER alone. Somebody's always got something to say about what you're doing. Somebody's always got a big opinion about everything. It's fucking impossible to get away." "Yeah, I guess it is alot different," I say stupidly because I'm still amazed that this girl, the same girl I caught making gagging gestures at her girlfriends when I was assigned her lab partner last year. And she just looks so cool. "I mean, it's like tonight, ya know? My dad, he's telling me how I need to start thinking about either picking out a school, or start going to those cotillions. I hate them fucking things. Gotta wear a fucking frou-frou dress with bows all over the fucking place while you wait for boys to ask you to dance. Boys that are supposed to be there to be looking for a well-bred wife, but really are only hoping for an easy lay.î "So whaddja tell him?" "I told him I don't ever wanna get married and that I'm gonna go to school in Wyoming." "Wyoming?" She laughs and shakes her head again. "I'm not really gonna go there. I just said it to piss him off. Get a rise out of him. I just so fucking sick of them trying to run my whole life." I don't remember Becky ever swearing this much at school. She always looks so sweet and young and innocent and perfect there. Not that she looks like this old sophisticated woman or something. She's just different. Softer. Relaxed. Real. And that's really beautiful on her. God, I never realized. "So, Fox Mulder, what brings you out to the reflection pond? Your 8 bedroom, 4 bath shack getting too crowded or is it that dad isn't going to buy you that new car?" she asks flippantly and leans back on her elbows. I think I can see her breasts now. And I don't think she's wearing a bra. Oh man. "Fox?" "Uh, yeah. Actually it is. My mom, she's beginning to drive me crazy, always telling me where I can and can't go and shit. I just had to get out of there." At that, she laughs. "I watched your mom drive off in her car on may way down here." "What? Oh." Godammit, she's making fun of me. How dare she? "Hey, just because I don't have a huge family like you doesn't mean my life's so perfect. You don't even know anything about me, Becky Tartaglia. I've got problems, too. Huge ones. Bigger ones than some stupid dance!" Her smug look immediately changes and she sits up straight again, pulling her long, light-brown hair over one shoulder. She looks really concerned. It's almost scaring me in a way. Maybe she really knows what happened at my house and just isn't telling me. "Oh, Fox, I'm, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I was just...I dunno," she drifts off and looks frustradetly out toward the ocean. "It's just like it gets all built up inside, you know? Until I feel like I'm gonna blow. And then I end up saying something I don't mean. Like I just did." She looks up at me again and smiles apologetically. "I shouldn't have been so awful. I'm sorry, really." "S'okay," is all I can say without being unsure I'm not going to cry. Guess she does understand. "Why don't you tie the dog up and we can share the rock?" She scootches herself over and pats her hand on the small empty corner of the rock. I attach George to a tree and climb up next to her. We sit shoulder to shoulder, both of us with our arms wrapped around our legs. She smells really great and her hair keeps blowing onto my face. We sit in silence, watching the water and I try desparately to think of something half way cool to say to her. She beats me to it though and asks me something I have to run through my head a couple of times before really hearing her. "So do you really miss her?" My grandma? My mom? The cleaning lady we had when I was 5? "Your...your little sister. Samantha was her name, right?" God, that was, man, I don't believe it. Two fucking years ago. Nobody at school hardly even asked me about it when it happened. I was beginning to wonder if people even knew I ever had a sister. If people even knew anymore that she was gone. "My sister?" "Yeah," she says matter-of-factly, her gaze still out toward the ocean. "Samantha, right? I remember she was a pretty little girl. Really happy. I don't know why it's stuck in my head, but I swear I can hear her calling for you on the playground when our grades were out at the same time. 'Fox! Fox!' she'd say and you'd tell her to get out of your face and she'd stick her tongue out at you and call you a name." "You-you remember her voice?" "Well yeah, I think so. Like I said, I dunno why, but I just can like, hear her." "Well, what else, um..." She turns to me and smiles. "What else do I remember about her? That's about all, I guess, other than the fact that I just have this impression that she really thought the world of you. That you were like, her whole world, ya know?" She turns back to the water and I thank fate because it gives me a chance to casually wipe a tear from my eye before it escapes. "I suppose it was a dumb question anyway, huh?" she asks. "I mean, of course you miss her, she was your sister. I might complain about my family, but I'd feel awful if...Well, I guess it's not my business." I nod, though I'm not exactly agreeing with her. Part of me really really wants to let her know exactly what's on my mind, but the other part says that I'll just end up making a fool of myself. I don't wanna take that chance when she's actually willing to sit here with me. "Every day." "Well, like, do they know what happend to her? I mean, did she just disappear?" "Uhh." Shit, do I tell her it's probably my fault? That I was supposed to be watching her and I let her get away from me. That'd go over real well. Or do I sit here like an idiot and just say nothing. She really seems to want to know, to want to listen. And she seems to really understand me, too. God, she remembered MY sisterís voice, and sheís got 7 of her own. This is probably the first time in my whole life, aside from doc, that anyoneís been genuinely interested in my life. "They-we don't, we don't know what happened to her. She's like, a missing persons case, I guess, I dunno, nobodyís ever really wanted to talk about it." "Oh. And the police can't find her?' I shake my head and bite the inside of my mouth. If they had found her, maybe mom wouldn't have left tonight. For the first time I notice a bunch of colored pictures underneath Becky's beautiful, tiny feet. Except they're not pictures exactly, they're like playing cards or something. "What're those?" "What? Oh, those? They're Tarot cards. Youíve never seen Tarot cards before?" I shake my head and she nods and gathers them up into a pile. "They're definitely something my parents would have a shit-fit about if they knew I had them. Straight to the confessional with me and into the fireplace with these "instruments of Satan." Good Catholic girls don't do this witch stuff, you know." "Does that make you a bad Catholic girl then?" My snide, suggestive question even surprises me. She laughs and leans her head on my shoulder, ever so briefly. "You want me to do a reading for you? What would you like to know about, Fox? Life, love, the pursuit of happiness?" I shrug not really sure how I'm supposed to answer that question. I have no idea what she's about to tell me. She couldn't really like, tell me fortune, could she? That's ridiculous. But she's made me want to know about Sam. Maybe she could tell me about her. And my mom and dad too. And the doc. But I don't want to have to tell her my whole sordid pathetic life story to find out. ìYou don't have to tell me anything about what you want to know for it to work. Here," she hands the deck to me. "Think about what you're wanting to know while you shuffle the cards." I obey and think as hard as I have ever thought about anything. There's alot of things I need to know about. "We'll do a three-card reading, okay?" She says like that makes any sense at all to me. She takes the deck from me and cuts it three times, leaving three piles of equal height. Then she turns them over one at a time. My heart starts to beat a little faster, though I'm not exactly sure why. "Okay, the first card tells you about your past. It's like all the things that happened to get you to where you are now in your life." Well that part she could just guess from what she knows about me. I mean, we've been in the same grade together for like our whole lives. What else could she possibly see in some stupid playing cards? She's starting to lean into me more, though, and it's starting to feel really nice. I hope that she drags this out for a while even if this isn't real. The card says "Page of Cups" and there's a boy kneeling on the ground next to a body of water, he's looking into large gold cup-thing, like right into it, looking for his reflection or something, I guess. Or maybe itís more like he's studying it. "Alright, well, this is saying that you've suffered a great loss," she looks up and rolls her eyes at me, "*Obviously.* But more importantly, your mom and dad, they've kept something hidden from you, about yourself and about what youíve lost. It's something that you might never be able to find out." I feel my eyebrows raise on their own, but I'm not quite sure why they did. She's GOT to be just making this up. "That's why your parents have been acting so wierd, you know. They have, right?" "Well, they're always weird, but..." But I know she's not talking about normal weird. I know she's talking about the fact the phone rang every night in that house at exactly 3:07 a.m. since Sam disappeared. She's talking about the fact that my dad would disappear for weeks on end and mom could never really give me a straight answer about where he was. She's talking about the fact that there was never one police officer in our house after Samantha disappeared. Just alot of men in dark suits in and out at all hours of the day. She nods in a way that's almost like she knows what I just thought and then puts her hand on my face, on my jaw where he hit me. I just now realized that it feels swollen. I can't really tell in the moonlight, but it looks like she's trying to keep from crying. "It wasn't your fault. Not this, not her..." She turns back to the cards and as she does, leans her head on my shoulder. I'm terrified to ask her what the hell she meant by that. But I keep my mouth shut, too, because at the same time, I know somehow exactly what she meant. "The Queen of Swords card tells about where you are right now, like things that just happened in your life." Thereís a woman sitting on a throne with a sword in one hand and a pitcher of water in the other. The pitcher is tipped and the water's spilling out. There are mountains behind her. For some reason I immediately think of my mom. "You've been expecting alot from someone, from an adult, I think. Someone who's let you down terribly. Maybe even all the adults in your life. Or, even, well..." "What what?" "Well, it might mean that what you thought was perfect or like, just fine. But I think, I think you're gonna have to face up to the fact that it's not going to last forever. You'll need to prepare for it.î She looks me in the eyes very seriously. ìYour mom's gonna come back for her stuff and for you. You'll be moving out of that house. Your mom and dad, Fox..." She trails off and I feel my heart sink. But what Becky doesnít realize is that Mom'll be back. She always does. She's just pissed. She'll be better in the morning. Becky leans into me even more and takes the hand I've got in my lap and threads her fingers through mine. She leans her head into the crook of my neck and I look out toward the ocean. The tide's coming in closer now. "Your future card's a good one, Fox. The High Priestess is all about like, hidden knowledge. She holds the truth of the universe in her hands. There's a secret that's being kept from you and in time, you'll find out what it is. There'll be a woman, I think, that you'll meet. She'll help you with this, and you will, most likely, love her more than anything. And for some reason it'll be real hard to tell her." ìWell-well-well, when will I meet her?î "Um, could be really soon, but be careful not to look for her too hard. You'll end up mistaking her for the wrong person.î "Well, how will I know then?" "Um, I dunno. I think you'll probably just REALLY know when you meet her. She'll have the ability to make you see things differently, she'll show you truths you'd never considered before and I think you'll do the same for her." I dunno how she does this, but it's pretty damn freaky, if any of it's true. I mean, she sounds like she really thinks this is all true. Like sheís some kind of psychic or something. Or maybe she's talking about herself. Maybe it's just her way of telling me she likes me. "How, like why does this work? I mean, how do I know that you're not just shittin' me?" "You don't, I guess. But I think you'll probably know if what I said was true. If not now, then later." She takes my other hand and snuggles into my chest, wrapping both of my hands around her front. She's freezing. "Does he do that to you all the time, Fox?" I decide not to pretend I don't know what she's talking about and simply say, "Nuh-uh. He says some pretty strong words, but he's never, not until now." She nods, rubbing her head into my chest. God, this feels good. Just having her here like this is like, well, less alone. She's got her eyes closed and she's smiling a little almost, like she's really content being here with me. Like she *wants* to be here with me. Now would be a great time for a cigarette. I suppose I should ask her if she minds before I light up though. Just before I say anything, though, she runs her hand up the bare skin of one of my arms, kinda like, tracing around the muscles. I shiver. Yeah, that's really, really nice... 'Do you-" Come on, Mulder, breathe, you can speak, you've done it before. "Do you mind if I smoke?" She sits up so suddenly it startles me and then she turns and gapes at me. "Oh, you mean you've got a light? Oh thank God!" God, she smokes, too? I've never seen with her a cigarette and for some unknown reason I REALLY am wanting to see that now. "Yeah, of course I do." I fish around in my pockets for the lighter I stole from the cleaning lady (well not really stole, she just left it there) that's got this ugly-assed black bird with one skinny leg that says Boca Raton on it. Then I pull out one of the last two cigarettes in my pack. Jeez, I hope dad's got some I can score before tomorrow. When I bring the flame from my lighter to Becky's cigarrette, I notice how weird the way she's holding it is. It's like so wierd looking too, it's so skinny. By the time I think I realize what it really is, the thing is lit and I can smell it. That ain't no Morley. I THINK it's a joint! I think. It's gotta be, but I've never actually seen one before. I watch her close her eyes and make a funny noise with her nose. She smiles big and makes this long drawn out heavy sigh and lets all the smoke out. God, what an awful smell. "Mmmmmyeah," she says under her breath and for some reason it gets me a little excited. "God, he wasn't kidding." "What?" "This is some fucking amazing shit. God." She opens her eyes and they look all glassy. Still beautiful just the same. She smiles at me and takes another drag. She giggles a little with her mouth closed and then says, "This is your lucky day, Fox Mulder. This is my only one, but," she leans in close to my face, "I'm willing to share it with you. It's like, I can't not, you know? I gotta share this shit with someone, it's so good." She holds the cigarette in front of me and I look at it for what seems like forever. God, should I? I've never done anything but smoke cigarettes. Well, aside from that time when I was ten and I wanted to try dad's bourbon. But she's holding it out in front of me and she's so beautiful and she's been so nice and great and this has so far been the best night of my life and... I take it from her and try to hold it like I just saw her do. I bring it to my lips and take a drag. At first I'm not sure if I've even smoked the thing, so I'm not really paying attention to where the smoke is going. Fucking shit, it's burning my larynx! I'm not going to be able to speak ever again. Holy shit. "Oh my God, Fox! God, have you never...? Oh, I'm so sorry I should have told you how." She giggling again and then puts her arm on one of my shoulders, near my neck. God, I can't stop fucking coughing long enough to make up some lie about why I am. "Ohoho - Oh, Fox, take it easy, it'll be okay. God, I'm so sorry." My breath catches in my throat because she's got both her hands on my face and is wiping away the tears that my coughing made. And her head is so close to mine. Her lips are, like, right there... She moves her head to the side and takes my hand, the one that's holding the joint and brings them both to her mouth. "Now, watch me, Fox." I'm watching, but please don't say my name like that anymore. She finishes the drag and guides my hand back to my mouth. Keeping her hand on mine the entire time, she says, "Now, you. Relax. Breathe." This time is so completely different. I take it in and then I feel my shoulders slump down and my whole body like melt into the rock. My head feels so...man... "Mmm?" Becky asks, her face next to mine again. "Kay?" She giggles and so do I. She holds my hand still and tells me to do it again. "Nice, huh?" "Yeah," I say, though I'm not sure if it really sounded. She's there, in front of my face again. If I just leaned forward a little, I could... "God, this is so nice," she says and then turns her back to me. Dammit, I was so close. Where is she going? Then suddenly her head is in my lap, and she's laying face up, her hair cascading all over my legs and the rock in every which way. Her hand is still holding mine. I'm not sure if she knows it's there, but I hope she keeps it there just the same. My head feels like it's gone. But I'm so relaxed. Really relaxed. What happened at home tonight seems a million miles away...I stare out at the ocean and for the first time I realize something. Something huge. "The vinyard is like such a small piece of land you know." I announce this as though I'm the first one who's ever considered it. "Yeah tell me something I don't know. I'm fucking stuck here on this hell island for like my whole life." "Didjew know that like almost the whole earth practically is water. It like goes on and on forever." She finishes another drag and nods. "Our bodies are like almost all water. The whole planet used to be nothing but water, that's where we came from. It's all water, Fox, all water." She offers me the joint and I eagerly take it from her hands. I'm getting pretty good at this. Man, this is so much better than cigarettes. A lot more effective in the relaxation department. "Yeah," is my brilliant response. "And there's water in the air too, ya know." "I wonder if there's water in outer space." She looks up at me and asks, "Do you ever think about that, Fox? Sometimes I just think about outer space." That doesn't seem surprising if this is something she does all the time. Fucking A I feel like I'm gonna just levitate up there myself right now. "There is Becky, there is water there." God, doesn't everybody know that? "How do you know? Have you been there?" She sounds fascinated with my claim and I have this urge to like say something even more impressive to her. "No, but that's what like the astronauts and stuff have found. It's all in our science books, you know. It's all been studied and shit." Man, I am so knowledgeable. I ought to be teaching school. "Wow, I wish I was an astronaut," she says and starts to lightly rake her fingernails on my bicep. "I wouldnít have to talk to my dad if I was in outer space." "Yeah that would be awesome, wouldn't it? To go up there, be like all the way out there, away from this place. Nobody's there. Nobody would expect anything from you cause like, it wouldn't be earth so like, the same rules wouldn't apply, right?" "Whoa, Fox Mulder, that's *really* heavy." "Tell me I'm wrong, though. If we were like in space or like on Mars or an asteroid or something, like all the things that are on earth would like not count anymore, so you could say and do and go where ever you wanted." She knits her brow and squeezes her eyes shut. I must've bowled her over with that. "Hey!" she nearly shouts and I jump just a little. "Hey maybe we can go there now, Fox." Her suggestion makes me laugh. "What're you talking about?" "Like in our minds, man." At this moment, this almost sounds possible. She starts to play with the cuff of my sleeve and my body shivers. Her fingers are so soft. "In our minds, huh?" "Yeah! Just think about it, think *really* hard about it and just like look up at the stars, man. This is too heavy now for me. She's so totally serious but I can't keep from laughing out loud. Outer space. Jeez, what would that be like? "Just think, Becky, what if we're not alone in the universe? What if all the stuff that Arthur Clarke and Carl Sagan and all them dudes say really is true?" "Well, I dunno who all those dudes are, but, we are so totally NOT alone in the universe. If that's what you think, you're like mental or something." I think I should be offended by the way she said that, but I'm no longer here. "Like that'd be *sooooo* depressing if that was true. That like, us, humans, are the only creatures in the whole universe? This canNOT be as good as it gets." "Oh, yeah, totally." Is that tree walking over here? "Hey, Becky..." "Yes...?" "Like, who do you think we'd meet up there? If we went up there." Man alive, I've never seen all of the constellations look like they do tonight. I think they're moving around tonight, too, like an astral body cartoon show... "I dunno. Maybe like dead people. Yeah, maybe that's where dead people go!" "Dead people don't go anywhere. We just die. That's it. Done, finished." "What are you saying? God, that's so depressing, how can you think that?" "Well, maybe ëcause it's TRUE." "Oh yeah? What makes it true? What makes you know it all? What are you, God? Boy, you sure are arrogant, Fox Mulder, to make a statement like that." "No, it's not that! It just doesn't make sense, Beck. I mean, like what's the point of it anyway? "The point of what?" "We're just biological entities you know, just like the trees, the water, hell, like George." I point at all of these things because I know it will make a stronger point. "We run our course and then it all starts over." She's quiet for a while and I look down at her. Her lips are pursed and her brows are knit. She looks kinda pissed, but she's so gorgeous. I try to explain it some more to her. "Well, like, I mean, how do you even know that there IS a God, anyway. And-and-and-and-and if there IS , what makes that proof that we've got some everlasting soul?" "How do you know there isn't a God, Fox Mulder? And how do you know there's not more to us than you think? Besides, there doesnít even have to be a God for us to have a soul." "Well no, but, but it just doesn't make sense to me. I mean then what's it for?" "What? Your soul?" "It doesn't have a body once it's dead, what's there for it to do?" "Find another body. Or go to heaven. Or outer space. I dunno, Fox, jeez. It could do a million things, thats what religion is about, everybody has a different opinion on that." Now I need to know. I wanna know what she knows about all this stuff. I wanna know that I'm wrong. I don't wanna think the way I think, I just can't help it. I wanna believe something. "I thought you didn't believe all that stuff, Becky." "All what stuff? Fox, I donít believe in the Catholic stuff, I donít believe in God and holy hosanna and whatnot but I do think we have souls or...or something. There's no way this is just 'it.' We're on a journey Fox, you know? This totally groovy journey called life and we're like supposed to learn everything we can and experience everything and like make ourselves...bigger, kind of." "Well, whatever, I'm just saying is that I don't think that's where the souls are, in outer space. Just all floating around with no purpose. Hell, I do that now. Why do I need to do it when I don't have a body?" She's quiet again and so I look down at her, away from my unfocused gaze at the ocean. Quietly and with deep sincerity, she says, "Maybe your soul is lost." "Lost?" I laugh. "Lost souls. Sounds like the title to a James Joyce novel. ìLost Souls in Dublin.î "Who?" Jeez, I thought she was smarter than that. Maybe it's the dope. "James Joyce? God, Becky, you really don't pay attention in school, do you?" "Why bother?" Good question. No, great question. Question of my life. Never did get a straight answer on that one from doc. Damn you, dad. You don't have any right. "Itís not like it matters in the end." Man, itís like we're using the same brain or something. "Yeah, I guess you're right." "When am I gonna have to know how to divide a fraction or autopsy a frog? I mean jeez, they should be teaching us stuff that really matters like the meaning of the universe and sex and stuff " "Oh, totally." Wait, did she just say sex? But we get sex ed in health. They teach us all about how everything works. What else could she want? "Especially the guys, there's so many guys that are so clueless about stuff like that, ya know." She stretches her hands above her head and starts combing her hair through her fingers. God, I'd love to touch her hair, too. It looks so soft. "I mean jeez, you can read as many huge-ass ancient books or memorize every motherfucking mathematical equation ever, but if ya donít know how to go down on a girl you're never gonna get anywhere in life. THAT'S what they should be teaching. Man. This stuff must make you feel like you've got a fever too. "Oh yeah, totally. You're so right." Wait a minute. What the fuck am I saying to her? Am I high? Oh yeah. But go down on a girl? Like as in oral? Taught in school? Shit. All I can think about is when Kevin told me about the stuff he does with Darlene Miller. How he said that going down on a girl was like so totally lame and that I should avoid it at all costs. She's not through with her speech yet though. "Even kissing, God they should just have a class just for that alone." I try to affirm her idea but nothing comes out of my mouth. Her nipples are hard. They're poking through the thin layer of her dress because her hands are above her head and they're like hard. I can't keep my eyes off of them. I'm trying, but I can't. She clicks her tongue loudly and then sighs. Oh, man, that was cool. Do it again? "Guys at our school are so lame, Fox, you're lucky you're not a girl." Yeah, I know. "Why...why's that?" "All they ever want is a quickie in the backseat or something, they never wanna take the time to really give a girl some pleasure, ya know? Pathetic little boys." A quickie must mean sex. I swallow hard at a picture that just popped into my head. I need to say something to that, though, something smart, something cool to show her I'm not one of those pathetic little boys, that I'm totally different. But yet once again, I am speechless. They're really kind of big. Man. She has no clue that I'm gaping at them, though, thank God. She smiles and says, "I'll bet you wouldn't be like that though, Fox Mulder. I'll bet you at least kiss good with those lips of yours." What? My... I bring my hand to my lips to try and feel what she might be referring to. I mean, what do I know about that kind of shit, this is the first girl to ever give me more than two seconds of her time. "Yeah, well yeah, I guess...Yeah." Of course you do, you retard. What are you, some kind of an idiot? She props herself up a little with her hands and I'm glad, cause I've been working on a hard-on for about ten minutes now. Last thing I need to do is freak her out that way. Although I have a feeling she wouldn't be freaked. "You could spend forever with those lips," she says and her voice is all low and syrupy. "I'll bet you don't just ram your tongue down girls' throats right away." Speak, Mulder, speak. But all I can do is clear my throat and nod stupidly. My tongue in her mouth... "God, I havenít gotten kissed in months." "Re-really? That-that's a long time." "Ever since I broke up with that jerk-off Bobby from the football team. You know him, right?" "Yeah know him." Almost beat the shit out of me once cause I was watching you guys kiss. "God, what a dumbfuck he is. He can't hardly spell his freaking name, never mind give me a goddamn orgasm." Orgasm. Oh fuck. "Wha...hum whydja go with him... anyways?" Shit, my dick is so fucking hard now. I hope she doesn't lie back down again. Thank God it's kinda dark. "I dunno, cause he asked me to, and I mean he is hot, all my friends were really jealous. Wasn't worth it though, dumbfuck." "So you went cause of what they thought?" "Not completely, I mean like I said, he is hot. The hot ones are always the worst, though." I'm not sure if I should be happy about that comment or not. "His dad's got a lot of money and a lot of power. I heard his mom's Rockefeller's niece or something like that." God, won't it just go away? "Yeah well, that's not too outstanding here. I mean I dont give a shit about that. When we broke up I told him to take some of that cash and buy a personality." God, maybe this is about us. Maybe she's telling me all of this because she really likes me and I'm so different or something than all the other boys she's been out with. Maybe this is the night that I get a girlfriend. I really hope so, the rest of my fucking life sucks. I laugh at her little joke and then decide that I really need to find all of this stuff out. "What do you want then, Becky? Like what would be perfect?" "Perfect? Jeez, nobody's perfect." Oh thank God she said that. God, she's so cool. Plus she's totally pretty and she's got bigger tits than Darlene Miller. Eat your heart out, Kevin. "Well no, I know, but I dunno, like what do you want? What would really be like your totally best kind of boyfriend?" "I'd like somebody cute, not like super hot muscle man or anything but like cute, ya know, kinda smart but not smart enough to make me feel stupid. Somebody who doesn't care what other people think but people like him anyway. Somebody funny and nice and who listens to me and cares about whether I'm happy." I can be all that. "And somebody who knows how to get a girl off once in a while would be nice, too." Fucking A it's starting to hurt now. It couldn't happen like in my jeans, could it? God, I hope not. "Well, I...I could, um...what I mean is, um, I'm like willing to listen if you like ever need it." Fuck, how do I ask her or tell her I want to be that for her without sounding like an idiot? She sits up completely now and looks into my eyes. In a low, soft, velvety voice that makes her sound 10 years older than she is, she asks, "Fox, are you saying that you think you could be that boy?" "Well I...yeah, I could, I guess, I mean, there's no reason why I..." I have to break off and sigh 'cause I almost feel like I could throw up. "Do you want to kiss me, Fox?" "Oh yeah." "Well what are you waiting for then?" I shrug and she smiles and puts her hands on either side of my face. She tilts her head to one side and presses her mouth on mine. My heart pounds and my entire head feels like it's burning up. I can smell her and feel her really really soft lips and this is like totally amazing. She pulls back but keeps one hand my head. I think she's giggling, but I'm not really sure that the world even exisits anymore. All I really can see is her peach skin and her brown hair. Everything else is real blurry. Soon I feel that hair against my mouth because she's turned her head. Oh God, is she changing her mind? Did that totally suck? Then her small, soft hand-God she's like silk-is on mine and she places it on her waist, kinda high, like by her breast almost. If I moved my hand just a fraction, I could... She's laughing again. "Relax," she whispers and my dick throbs. She nips at my bottom lip and man this is even more fucking amazing cause now I can really feel how soft her lips are. Then she starts sucking at it and so I guess I'm supposed to do the same. She makes this noise then and moves her mouth and before I even realize it, my hand is in her hair and I'm pushing her head into mine. Somewhere I worry if that is an okay thing to do, but I hear her sigh and then feel something wet on my lips. Jeez, it's her tongue. I can't help but gasp when I realize that and then she slips the thing inside. Oh God oh God oh God, Rebecca Ann Marie Tartaglia's rough, hot, sweet tongue is inside my mouth. French-kissing! We're French-kissing! I don't believe it. This is so cool. She's rubbing it inside my mouth everywhere, along my tongue and and the roof of my mouth and when she starts running it along my teeth, I feel like crying. After like three days, she pulls away and rests her forhead against mine. She's panting and when I look at her mouth, I see that her lips are red and all swollen and she's smiling. I feel I could vomit up my heart right now, it's pounding so hard. Then Becky goes, "Mmmmmm..." and laughs low in her chest. Thank you Lord, I must've done it right. Then I feel her pulling at my back as she lays herself flat on the rock. More than willingly, I follow and lay myself sort of on my side next to her. Then she takes her leg and pins it behind mine and I can't help but fall on top of her. God, she's gonna be able to tell. She's going to be able to feel it. What's she gonna do then? She starts sucking at my neck and so I figure I oughtta be doing the same. I open my mouth and place in on her neck and just sorta, well, kiss her I guess, 'cause that's kinda what she's doing to me and it feels pretty cool. God, what else am I supposed to do? Think think think! What are all the things Kevin told you to do? Is it okay to touch her now? But where? And would she freak out if I... Oh shit. Oh *shit*. She beat me to it. Or read my mind. Or really wants me to do it. In any case she's got my hand and she's put it on her tit! God, it like takes almost like my whole hand to hold it. I hardly have time to think about whether or not it's okay to squeeze it cause she does it for me and then she makes another noise. God, help me. "MmmmmFox, you're making me so hot..." she whispers before we kiss again. She's starting to move underneath my body and I can't help my own body from rubbing into hers. Heaven. Forget dead souls floating in outer space. Heaven is right here, grinding her body into me. "Fox, Fox, wait." Oh shit, I went too far. Shit shit shit, what a jerk. God, she must be thinking that I'm no better than any other guy she's been with. Shit, I don't wanna hear her say that to me. I wanted to be different. I tried to be different, I really did. "What?" I pant. "What? Oh Becky, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." "No, there's nothing to be sorry about! God, no! It's just I think I hear the dog..." She looks around my shoulder and I follow her gaze. Shit. He's gone from where I'd tied him up at. Shit shit. I'm gonna murder the stupid rat when I've found him. For a split second I consider telling Becky to forget it, that I don't care about the dog. I mean, when's the next time I'm going to be in this situation with her, or with any girl? Letís just keep kissing. But better judgement and overwhelming guilt reminds me whose dog is out there. I can hear him yelping, so he's around here somewhere. "Where is he, do you see him?" She sits up straight and squints her eyes. "Uh-huh, I don't." Now I'm starting to get worried. I know nobody would really care if I lost him, but I wouldn't be able to handle it. "GEORGE!" we both start to call as we climb down off the rock. "This is where I tied him up," I tell Becky as I point out the tree. I yell his name again, this time I get a response, but I still don't see him. "There he is! He's in the water!" She laughs. "He's in the fucking ocean, Fox! I think he's stuck on a rock or something." "Where?" "Like, way out there, see? Oh, God, Fox, he's getting swept over by the tide! Hurry!" She says and grabs my hand to pull me toward the water. We laugh as soon as the tide splashes the hell out of our legs. "It's so fucking coooold!!" She yells through her absolutely beautiful laugh. "Yeah I know," I agree as I bend down to detach George from the rock. Just as I do that, another wave rolls in, thoroughly soaking the both of us. Becky screams and we both laugh and I think that I've fallen in love. "I think I got him, Fox!" I look over and she's got the drowned rat in her arms. She runs clumsily to the shore and I follow, nearly falling on my face from sinking into the sand. She makes a hooting noise and starts laughing uncontrollably. "Ah! Look at you!" Normally I'd feel embarrassed and totally self-conscious at that statement, but she doesn't look any better. "Me? Me?" I try to tell her she looks like the dog, but I'm laughing too hard. She's got George in her arms and when we clear the space between us, I can see that she's shivering as bad as he is. She looks up at me with her beautiful eyes and we burst out again. I see her teeth chatter and I get a sudden inspiration. "God, you're freezing! Come here." I take her face in my hands and kiss her and to my complete surprise, she totally relaxes into it, kissing me with a bit more energy this time and with the added sensation of her humming into my mouth. She breaks it off and I get to see her smile. Yeah, I'm in love. "You'd better get George home before he gets sick or something." "He'll be fine," I assure her as she puts the shaking dog in my arms. Fucking dog. Do you realize what you cost me here? "Oh shit! Is that really what time it is? Fucking A." I look at my watch. 3:00 a.m. Wow, what a night. "Are you, jeez, are you gonna get in trouble?" "God, I hope not." She starts to climb up the sand to get home and I'm speechless as to what to say. I wanna, I've *gotta* see her again. I follow behind her and climb up very clumsily because of carrying George. "Uh-um, well wait a second, wait." She turns from about ten feet ahead of me and waits for me to speak my peace. "Uh, would you...do you, I mean, well, we should-uh do this...again...sometime?" "Yeah, sure okay." I walk closer to her and say something I know is going to sound absolutely idiotic. "Well, my birthday's this weekend. Friday. Friday the 13th. Kinda funny, huh?" She shrugs and I feel my cheeks get warm from embarrassment. "Well so anyways, if you don't have, I mean, if you don't have any plans or anything, maybe we could like, meet out here again then or something. But-but if you've got plans, I understand, I mean, that's okay. I mean, you've probably got lots of things to do, but I just thought, well, you know." Alright, Mulder, you can shut the hell up any time now. "Okay, sure. Sounds great. Fox, I really gotta go." "Oh, okay, I'm sorry." She turns and walks away again and I yell out one more important detail. "So, 8:00 okay?" "Yeah, sure, fine. Whatever." This is gonna be a fucking great birthday. xxxxxxxxx I didn't actually fall asleep last night I don't think. It was 4:00 a.m. when I got out of the shower. George was laying under the covers in my bed still shaking every so often, but I think he warmed up eventually. I think he was mostly still freaked out about the fact that he had been stuck in the water more than anything else. Anyway, I just remember rolling over and it was light out. I had all but forgotten about the fact that mom had walked out on dad last night. I was just concentrating on the way my stomach turned around inside my body every time I remembered what it felt like to kiss Becky Tartaglia. God, I can't wait to see her today. I couldn't get George out of my bed to go out so I just got dressed and left the house at like 6:30. Dad was deader than dead sprawled out on the couch in his den. Must've hit the booze hard last night, he hasn't even been out for his papers. Oh well I don't really care today. Today, I'm in love. I can hardly wait to see her. I wonder if it's okay for me to kiss her in the hall. She and Bobby used to practically get it on in the hallway when they were going together, so I guess it would be okay. Yeah, I'm gonna do it. I can't believe it. Finally, I've got a girlfriend. Just like Kevin. Nevermind the fact that he's been out with at least 30 different girls since we were 13, but see, that's the kind of guy he is. I'm different. Kevin's the type of guy that Becky was complaining about last night. I'm a great kisser. Not that she said so, but I really liked kissing her. And she didn't tell me that it sucked, anyway. Oh man, and Friday's gonna be awesome. I'm wondering if I should like, go farther with her. Hell, she let me touch her boobs, so she must want that. I could give her that. I could give her 'pleasure' like she said she wants to get from guys. Wonder what that means exactly, though. Like, am I supposed to take her shirt off or what? Or her...Oh, God, I gotta start concentrating on school, or I'm gonna be in trouble before I get there. Guess I'll call Kevin tonight and tell him. Maybe he'll give me some ideas. I throw my stuff in my locker and grab my English book. Shit, I never did read To Kill a Mockingbird. Oh well. But I could probably pass the test just from what I heard in the discussions. That's good enough. Dad won't even have to know. He's gonna be real distracted now anyways, 'till mom comes back. Hey, I just realized I don't even care about seeing Miss Denning this morning. She may be smart and pretty but she's nothing compared to Becky. I spot her, Becky that is, down the hall at her own locker. She's in her uniform but she's got the blue crested sweater that she's supposed to wear wrapped around her waist. The waist I touched last night. She's looking at herself in her mirror and buttoning her shirt up like it's supposed to be. Her gorgeous brown hair is back in a French braid. French braid, French-kissing...Oh God, how do I do this? Do I just like lean in or do I touch her face or do I put my hand on her shoulder first? Maybe I'll just wait and see what she does first. As I make my way over to her, her two perpetually giggling friends, Cecelia and Jeanette come up to her. Becky says something to the two of them that I can't hear and there is another eruption of giggling. She must have told them about us. Maybe about how great of a kisser I am. "Hey Becky." She jumps out of her skin and turns, looking at me strangely. "Fox Mulder! Uh, I didn't expect you to be standing there." "Her name's "Rebecca" dork," Jeanette corrects me and giggles with Cecelia once again. Whatever. "Yeah well, um, do you wanna like eat lunch together today or somethin'?" One of the two girls makes some snorting noise out of her nose and they start to giggle again. I watch Becky's eyes and realize that she almost looks nervous. Or, embarrassed almost. Becky shuts her locker and I notice that her ears are beat-red. Not looking at me, she says, "Um...I've gotta go." What? "Wuh...wait, I..." She turns her back to me and starts to walk away with Cecelia. Jeanette, however, takes the time to let me know where I stand. "She said she had to go. Are you deaf?" I nod my head like an idiot and Jeanette turns and joins the group. Wait, what the hell did I do wrong? I'm late for first period by the time I know enough to move from the spot where Becky just blew me off. The bell must have rung but I never heard it. I just kept repeating the events of last night and try to figure out why the hell after all that she would act like she hardly even knew my name. Then once I realized how quiet it was in the hall I figured I was supposed to be in class. Everybody's already gotten their exams and started the test. When I walk in late, Miss Denning just smiles and quietly hands me the test before I take my seat. Thank God Becky and her stupid friends aren't in Ad. English. I'm not sure I could keep from going nuts if they were here. I stare at the test and sigh. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this test. I can't even concentrate hard enough to even understand the first question. I'm just concentrating on not crying. Again. Fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm never going to get anything right in my life, am I? I just don't get it, she was so nice to me. We were kissing and laughing and it just felt so right. I can't believe she was just making a fool of me. Suddenly I hear the click of shoes on the tile floor. Miss Denning leans down and whispers to me in a tone that would normally get me really excited. "Are you feeling alright, Fox?" I shake my head no. Thank God, she's giving me an out. I'll just pretend like I'm gonna be sick. Which I just might be anyway. "Can I be excused, please?" She nods and takes the test from me. I leave all my stuff in the room and make my way out. Yeah, I think I could vomit. I walk to the bathroom on shaky legs and when I get there, I see her, coming out of the girls' room. Shit. "Fox!" she whispers loudly and grabs my arm, dragging me into an empty classroom. "Becky what's the deal? I mean last night...I thought..." "Last night was nice, Fox but it...it wasÖseparate. I...I like to keep my life here separate from my life away from here. Do you understand?" Separate life? What the hell is she talking about? That almost sounds like something dad would say to me. "Fox, I like to keep some things apart from my life at school, some things kind of secret, to myself, ya know?" "Well, I guess, but, like, I was just thinking that we could like, always hang out, you know like friends." "We are friends, Fox, but well, there are some things I wanna keep private because...because they are so special to me and I feel like sharing them would almost ruin it. You're one of those kind of things." What the hell did she just say? I swear that girls speak a different language than the rest of us half the time. "But are you saying that you don't want to see me anymore or what?" "No, no. I just think we should be...secret friends." "Secret..." "Yeah, see I don't wanna ruin what we have by letting the whole world know about it. It's more special this way, really." " ëKay. Special." Say it enough times and maybe it will start to make sense. "So, you won't tell anyone our secret will you, Fox?" She walks toward me and looks up at me from her partially bowed head. "I need to know I can trust you." "No, no you can, you can." She smiles big and looks out the safti-glass window in the classroom door. Then she turns back toward me and raises herself up to kiss me, hard. Even lets me put my tongue in her mouth this time. "Thank you, Fox, that means a lot to me," she whispers in my ear. We kiss one more time and she says, "I'll see you Friday, 'kay?" "Yeah..." I squeak out but she's already gone to wherever it is that she's supposed to be during this hour. Secret friends. Okay, okay, sounds exciting, really. Almost dangerous or something. Like spies in a James Bond flick. Yeah, I'm Bond and she's the girl spy. We have to meet incognito otherwise it might endanger both of our lives. xxxxxxxxxxxxx Friday 7:58 p.m. I've been sitting on this rock, *the* rock, where Rebecca Ann Marie Tartaglia kissed me, for the past hour and a half. My heart is beating so fast and my teeth are chattering. I came early just in case she happened to do the same, and that way we could be together longer. I also came early because I haven't been able to do much of anything but think about her and count the seconds until this night. I've decided that Becky might actually be the woman in the Priestess card, if any of what she told me is really true. I mean, she told me so much the other night about myself and I hardly said a word to her. And she just seems like she could really be the one. Even if there is someone else out there, I don't wanna know about her. I want Becky. We haven't exactly talked since Wednesday morning when she pulled me aside to tell me about our arrangement. She pretended like everything was just normal, like it had always been, all week long and then occassionally, when no one was around, she'd smile at me, sometimes she'd even kiss me, depending on where we were. She's so beautiful, God *so* beautiful and she wants to see me! I see her flirt with other guys at school, but I know she's only teasing them. She doesn't like them in the way she likes me. I know, I can tell. She told me that guys at our school are lame, but she wasn't talking about me. I think she only told me that so that I could prove her wrong. She told me I made her hot. I've got to be pretty special to make a girl hot. And you know what, I'd do anything for her. I like want to totally do anything that's gonna make her happy. I wanna tell her that I love her, but Kevin told me to save that one up, not to use it until it could really be used to my advantage. "Yeah, like when you've gotten up her shirt already and you're going for her pants, ya know? If she starts getting wiggy on you, tell her you love only her and you just wanna show her." "Yeha, but Kevin," I said, "I think I really *do* love her. You're making it sound like some kind of trick or something." "Well, whatever you wanna call it, it'll work for ya, trust me. But if you really wanna make sure, if you *really* wanna impress her, I think I've got just the thing for you." Well of course I wanted to know what secret key to understanding and impressing girls was and that led me to a late-night visit on the dock to the ferry with Kevin who brought me mushrooms of all the fucking weird-ass things. He said that tripping out on them is a totally different and way better experience than smoking weed. I told him that this stuff better be real and not make her puke or something and he insisted that wouldn't happen. He said it would make for a night I'd never forget. I sigh deeply and look at my watch. 8:27. It's okay, it's okay. She's probably just deciding what she should wear. Or maybe she's combing her hair out. It's pretty long. Probably takes a while. I stand up on the rock and look out toward her house. I can't see her house from here, but I'm sure that's the direction she'd be coming from. Like right... Now! Shit. Have a cigarette, that'll pass about 5 minutes and she'll be here. 8:56 Maybe she's gotta cover her tracks. She said she wanted to keep our relationship separate, maybe she said that because she had to. Maybe she's afraid her dad or her brothers would come here and hurt me. So she's like protecting me or something. One hour's not that late. God, I can't wait for her to get here. I'm gonna kiss her like she's never been kissed before. And I'm gonna touch her and see if she'll make all those noises she made the other night again. And maybe tonight, I'll get laid! That would be so cool. I feel kinda guilty thinking that I hope I do just so I can tell Kevin I did it, but I'm gonna be even more embarrassed to have nothing to tell him. 9:17 I hate this fucking digital watch. I hate the fact that I'm painfully aware of each individual minute that passes. Well, maybe she just couldn't remember what time we'd said. Or maybe her mom and dad made her go out for dinner with them and she couldn't get away. 10:03 All my cigarettes are gone and I've moved on to seeds now. I can chuck the shells almost to where the tide comes in at. Then it rolls in and brings the shell out with it. Crack, spit, throw, gone. Crack, spit, throw, gone... 10:49 God, where the hell is she? Maybe I was supposed to meet her at her house. Oh shit, is that what we said? No, I know we, well I did anyway, said meet here. Should I go over to her house and see if she's okay? Or maybe she's at my house waiting for me? No, no, we said here. She said she'd see me here Friday. That's tonight, right? Yeah, of course it is. 11:30 p.m. She said, "See you Friday," didn't she? I was there, at school in that classroom with her. She had been thinking about it then, so she couldn't have forgotten. Maybe she had to babysit her sisters or something, like out of the blue. She might have tried to call me at home, but I wouldn't have been there to take the call. So okay, if her mom and dad were going out, then they'd probably be getting home about now or a little while from now. I'll give her a chance to get here. 12:20 a.m. One more hour. I'll wait one more hour. 2:45 a.m. She might still come. She might. Sneak out of the house or something because she can't stand to not see me. 6:30 a.m. What the hell happened? I can't believe she didn't come. "8:00 okay?" "Sure, fine. Whatever." Means no, you stupid idiot. Secret friends, my ass. Might as well go home. She ain't coming now and if she did, I'm not sure I really want her to know that I stayed up all fucking night waiting for her. She doesn't deserve to know that. If there's a message when I get home, that's different. An explanation, a reason for why she left me out on that stupid rock, making me wait, awake for an entire night just for her. Because she'd promised, or at least I'd believed that she had, and because she'd asked me to trust her. And she played me for the fool, with her stupid tarot cards and her pot and her kissing. God, I'm such a moron. Oh my God, mom's caddy's in the driveway. See, I told you she'd be back. I run up to the house, suddenly completely desperate to hear her call me Fox. Opening the door, my heart jumps to hear the sounds of out and out yelling between them. Really yelling. Mom's screaming hysterically. "Teena, would you calm down! I didn't take him anywhere. I don't think he's been home all night." "What do you mean, you don't think he's been home all night? Don't you pay attention to where he's going? Did you even ASK the boy where he was going when he left?!" "No, I wasn't..." "What?" "I wasn't home when he left." "Oh. William Mulder, if you're lying to me again, so help me God, I'll make you pay!" "Teena, I told you I didn't-" "WHERE IS HE, BILL?!!" "Mom! Mom, I'm right here, I'm right here." She steps away from dad and hugs me, letting out this huge breath. She just keeps saying my name over and over again. Finally she pulls away and says, "Get your things, Fox, and put them in my car." "Mom, what's going on?" "I'm taking you out of here, I found a place for us." "But mom, wh...why." "Because I have to leave, and won't leave without my baby boy." "You're not going anywhere," Dad steps in front of the stairs so that I can't get through. "Yes Bill, I am, and I'm taking Fox. This is over, I want out. I had thought you would have been notified by now." "Yes, I got your damn papers. But I want to know what you think you're doing, taking a boy out of his home, what gives you the right?" Divorce. She's really gonna do it. "I am his mother!" "This is his home, Teena." "This is not a home, it's a house. I can give him a home." "I'm not letting you take him out of here." Stop it. Stop it. Please. Or at least let me out of here. "You can't stop me, Bill. I've already gotten a court order. Do you want a custody battle? Do you want a public spectacle? Don't test me. I can ruin you." Ruin him? Ruin him how? What's she talking about? "Teena, don't. Don't be stupid. Please. You know what..." He trails off and shakes his head, apparently realizing again that I'm still here. "Alright, then just let me take him out of here Bill. You can see him whenever you'd like." "You should also think about what's best for the boy, what we've *talked* about, Teena." "I never agreed that. Any of it. Bill, *please*. He needs to be a normal boy for a while." "Teena, you know there was never a choice after. You *know* that. Things have been set in motion already, you're only..." He rubs his brow and leans in closer to mom. In a tone of voice that's creepy to me, but I don't know why he says, "You can't hide him forever." "Maybe not, but I can sure as hell try for a couple years." Stop. Stop. This is all happening way too quickly. I don't understand. God, I should never have even gone out on that rock, I should have never said anything to dad that night. If I hadn't said anything, then mom would have never left. I would have never run out there and made that date with Becky and then wait for her all night long so that mom and dad would fight like this. I wanna tell her to wait. I wanna tell her I don't wanna go, but I do. I don't think I could live without her. But everything was just fine before. Why do they have to get a stupid divorce? "I think you're making a grave mistake," dad warns and again for some weird reason, it frightens me big time. "I don't care what you think. Come on Fox. Now. Get a few things together, we'll send for the rest of it tomorrow." Once we're in the car I ask her where we're going. "Not too far, Fox. Not too far." I don't really care, really. Whatever she wants, as long as she doesn't leave me behind with dad. I don't really care where we live. "You won't be going back to school on Monday." Alright! "Why?" "I've enrolled you in the academy in Mass, where you had wanted to go before but your father wouldn't let you. I'm taking you there Sunday afternoon." "Okay." Is all I can think of to say to that. That's really kind of cool. It's not making me feel all that much better about the divorce, but at least it's a plus. And finally she's stood up to him. That makes me happy too. Oh shit, except now I won't be able to ask Becky what the hell happened last night. "But wait mom, I..." "Fox, please. Not now. I can't. You're going Sunday." Okay so she doesn't want to talk. So I'm going from one icy-silent home to another. Suddenly I remember something very important. Oh shit oh shit. "Mom, I'm sorry, but, we gotta go back." "We'll send for everything else. Or knowing your father, he'll have it all there before noon today." "No, mom, George! I forgot George. We gotta go back for him." She sighs and for a moment it looks like she's considering it. "No. No. You can call your father when we get there and have him send George as well. He won't want to keep him there anyhow." "Yeah but, mom, he'll-" "No." I inhale to protest but stop myself. Normally I'd push it. But today is a different day. xxxxxxxxxxxx 2:45 p.m. "See, what did I tell you, Fox?" I look up from the front stoop where I've been sitting ever since we got here and I see the moving van in front of the house. The house is okay. It's a bit smaller than the other one, but it's not like that matters. I'm going to live at school anyways and besides, it's just me and mom and George. George. "Excuse me. Excuse me," I say to the two dark-haired, uniformed men carrying boxes into the house. "Excuse me, but there wouldn't happen to be a small black Scottish Terrier in that truck, would there?" The two men look at me and then look at each other and laugh. One of them nods at the other and they proceed inside. Fine, bastards, I'll look myself. Boxes and boxes and more boxes amidst most of the furniture from the house. But no dog. Not even in the cab. Shit. Poor stupid dog. He's gonna think I abandoned him. Samantha's dog. What would make me completely forget about him and leave him behind? There's only one thing I can do at this point. I gotta go back and get him. It's really not that far, I can run it. I hear mom calling for me, asking me where I'm going and I yell something that probably sounded like gibberish to her because she yelled my name again. I don't care though, this is more important. xxxxxxxxxxxxxx Once I reach the house, *dad's house*, I'm really relieved to see that he's not there, except that the stupid door is locked and my key doesn't fit! I don't believe it-I don't believe him. It's only been since this morning and he's changed the damn locks already? Jesus. Mom might not be able to get in, but I can and I think dad probably knows that, so I find the basement window that's loose and squeeze my way inside. The basement is practically empty, it looks wierd, almost like I'm in the wrong house. Checking briefly, I notice that the boxes of Sam's things are gone. Damn him. I know mom would want those things, but throwing them on her front porch seems kind of mean. God, the whole house is like empty. Pictures, books, and just a lot of stuff is gone. It's like no one lives here. "George! Come on, boy! Come on! Wanna go for a walk, huh?" I stand at the foot of the stairs because suddenly I'm creeped out by the thought of going up there. It's all over, just like mom said. "George? Where are you? Come on! Come on!" Maybe dad did bring him over to the house. Nah, he wouldn't have bothered. It's wierd he wouldn't have at least yelped. By the time I've finished investigating the main floor, I'm to the point of running up the stairs. Last time I saw George, he was in my bed. My room is completely empty except for the furniture, that's all still here. Guess dad thinks I'm gonna wanna come and stay here too. There's a lump under the covers and I throw the blankets back. "There you are. Watcha doin' under there, boy? George?" He's not moving. At all. "George?" I scoop up his limp body in the blankets and carry him outside, to the tree that she used to play under. The one she fell out of and broke her collarbone. I dig a hole and lay George inside. I say a prayer. To Samantha, I think. I'm sorry. xxxxxxxx October 13 1 year later Bill Mulder's residence Guess I oughtta drag my ass out of bad one of these days, seeing as it's almost two. I'm home from school this weekend because it's my birthday and my dad wanted me to come home for whatever reason. Had some big ta-do planned or something for me, I dunno. I just said whatever. There wasn't anything going on at school this weekend anyway. I throw on some clothes to run in and then go down and grab an apple off the kitchen counter. Outside in the front of the house I can see dad standing around with three or four other men in dark suits, all smoking cigarettes. That reminds me... "Morning, son. Good to see you among the living." Heh, funny dad. I smile half-heartedly and wonder how long I'm supposed to stand here before it's okay to just go. I feel sorta like a bug under a microscope. They're all just standing there like theyíre expecting me to say something terribly profound. "We understand it's your birthday today, Fox," one of the suits speaks through the cigarette in his mouth. "Uh, yeah, it is. Um, I-uh, kinda have to go." Suit number two chuckles at me and says: "Well wait a minute, son. Aren't you going to open your present?" I look over at my dad, hoping that he'll see the pleading on my face to help me get the hell out of here when I notice that he's leaning up against a shiny black sportscar parked in the driveway. It's a Trans Am, looks brand new and it's even got a sunroof. "Well, son, what do you have to say to that? Not a bad choice for your old man, huh?" "This is mine?" All of the suits erupt together in a condescending chuckle and once again, I feel strangley scrutinized. "I hear the '77's got a hell of an engine in her. You ought to have quite a time in that car." - Suit number one again. "I, uh, thanks, dad. Thanks." I say this but wonder why it feels like I'm supposed to be thanking all of these other people as well. It is a pretty groovy-looking car. I'd be the only other person on campus that has one, besides that one guy who's got an older one. I don't think that I'm half as excited about it as dad is, though. Dad hands me the keys and tells me to take it for a "spin," like it's a skateboard or a go-cart or something. "Go over to your mother's. Show it to her." Ah, there's one reason for this. Wonder if there are more where that one came from. As I walk uncomfortably over to the driver's side, suit number three clears his throat and says, "So, Fox, your father tells us you'll be graduating this summer. Only 16, right? That's pretty impressive." Suite number one: "Yes, very. So what's it going to be, son, Harvard? Yale? "Uh, actually I was thinking-" "Actually, my boy's going to Oxford, hes going to get a real education." What? Why wasnít I invited to that meeting? And just when was I going to be informed of this? Suit number one takes out another cigarette and looks directly at my father. "I think that's a wonderful plan, Bill. Wonderful. I believe he'll do very well there." There is much cheering and aggreement from the audience while I'm still trying to figure out when Oxford had suddenly become an option. Reason number two. "Oxford, dad?" Not taking his eyes off of suit number one he says, "Yes, Oxford, son." Suit one looks at me then and asks, "What's the matter, son, don't you think you'd like that? I think it's the perfect place for a boy as brilliant as you. Yes, just perfect." Okay, enough already with the "son's." This is is just plain wierd now. I've gotta get out of here. Maybe dad's just saying all those things because those guys are there. Though at least if I were really going to England, I'd be getting the hell away from here. I mean, nevermind the fact that it was actually dad who decided this for me, it may be the only chance for me to get away from here and not have to deal with any of mom and dad's shit. Dad pats me on the back before I sit down in car, reminding me of his earlier suggestion to go show my mom. I think he's expecting me to let her know my decision about choice of schools, too. Double whammy all wrapped up in a Pontiac 400 v8 engine. xxxxxxxxx 6:40 p.m. "It's a nice car, Fox. You're going to take it back to school with you?" "Well yeah, I thought I would. I mean, you don't want to drive it do you?" "Heavens no. Why would I want to drive something like that? Do you want more potatoes?" "Please. Thanks." "Use a napkin, Fox. Donít wipe it all over your jeans, please.î Mom's cheesy potatoes are the best. She made chicken too, but I've eaten mostly potatoes. This is her version of a birthday party for me. She gave me a bunch of clothes and stuff to take back to school with me. Nothing too exciting She reacted pretty much the way I expected, with quiet resignation and repressed anger in her face and in her eyes. She's a stone wall, though. I keep stuffing my face while I try to come up with a way to tell her about what dad said to me today. This is the most talking we've done since I got here this afternoon and I'm thinking I should really seize the opportunity now. I've actually been thinking about Oxford ever since then and strangely enough, even though it wasn't mine, it really does sound like a good idea. I just don't know how mom is going to react to that. "Uh, da-" Shit. Almost did it. If she hadn't looked straight at me, I could have gotten it out. "What? What were you going to say, Fox?" I look intently at my plate and just eye her peripherally. "Umm...I've been thinking a lot about school lately, you know. And I'm...I'm thinking that, well, I'd kinda like to go to England, to Oxford, I guess." "You've spoken with him about this didn't you?" I should know better. She is my mother. "Yeah." "Yes, you will be going to England, Fox.î God, the look in her eyes is so strange. It's distant, detached. I can't tell WHAT she's thinking about it. "Well, mom, I...I don't have to. I mean, I could...well, what I'm saying is, if you don't think it's a good idea-" I stop because she's shaking her head. She takes a deep breath and says, "Fox, you are going to realize soon enough that what you think or what I think or what the neigbor's cat thinks about our respective lives, it's really not going to make much of a difference in the end." "Mom...what?" "You'll do fine there. I have every confidence in your ability. It will be good for you. Itís just too bad your grandmother passed away this summer. I was hoping you would have been able to meet her. I think you would have liked her." That I highly doubt. Mom hardly even shed a tear when she got the call from her sister. And even though it should, it doesn't creep me out for her to be acting this way. Ever since we moved here, since the divorce, she's acted like that. Giving me abstract words of wisdom and telling me to run off and do my homework. So it doesn't seem strange that she's sounding like my dad and all his associates in suits have been here and putting thoughts into her head. Maybe it's stone*walled*. "Okay. As long as you're okay with it." I get up from the table and head for the living room to watch TV. "Fox..." "Yeah, mom?" "Be careful not to..." "Mom?" The phone rings and she jumps out of her skin. Glancing around the room with an almost guilty look on her face, she heads for the phone, and I head for the television. June 20 The following summer 11:16 a.m. "Fox, come on, wake up. Come on!" Someone is pulling on my toes. What the fuck? I just wanna sleep. "Fox! Come on, now I'm not gonna ask you again. You're gonna sleep the day away." So fucking what. "In the next minute, I'm going to pull the covers off of you. And I know that you're naked under there. Do you want your old mother seeing your naked body?" "Alright! Alright alright alright. I'm up already. Just don't pinch my toes again. Please," I yell into the pillow. For about two minutes I lay awake wondering what the hell is so important about today that I've got to get up so bloody early. I'm not actually leaving until tomorrow night and it's not like I've got a hell of a lot to pack. I can only take one suitcase with me. Mom's gonna send the rest in boxes, I guess, in the mail. Whatever. I only really want my books the most. As long as those get there, I don't really give a shit about the rest of the stuff. "Mom, what the hell?" "You're not going to sleep all day. And that's that." Oh, that's what this is about. I've caught her dabbing her eyes a million times ever since I got home from school after graduation. She thought it was great that I got to graduate early I suppose, but she looked sad at the same time. And then when she found out just HOW soon I had to take off for England, she really started to lose it. "I want you to go see your father before the day is through, too, Fox. You need to at least say goodbye." "Aw, mom, come on..." "No! You're going. You may have graduated early, but you still need to mind me, Fox." "Alright, alright I'll go." She's chewing on her tongue, I can see it, while she folds up some of my clothes, setting them neatly in the suitcase dad gave me just before I left for the academy. He had it sent over that morning after mom and I moved into this house. Mom had said it was some kind of statement he was making. Trying to keep a hold on it, on me, on her. I was like, "It's just a suitcase." She said nothing, but laughed bitterly. God, I really don't want a crying scene here. I don't want to see her do it and I don't want to, either. God, I'm gonna be 17 fucking years old. "I'm going to take a trip to Cape Cod, do you want me to get you anything there?" "Seeds?" She sucks her lips inward and smiles through a frown. She puts her hand on my face and nods quickly. She sniffles once and laughs at herself, as though trying to excuse her behavior for me. She hands me the clothes hanging over my desk chair and asks pointlessly, "You gonna drive over there or just walk?" "To England? I thought I'd try and swim it." She smiles but I've officially made the tears stream. I tell her to come closer and we hug, just like that day in my room after Sam was gone. "I'm gonna come back, mom." She doesn't say anything to that, not even a nod. xxxxxxx I ended up driving anyway, cause it looked like it was going to rain. And there's just something that's so incredibly lonely about walking to dad's house from mom's. It's like the lonliest path. Maybe it's got something to do with George, even though it's not even the same house anymore. Maybe it's the pervading sense of doom and dread that becomes stronger and stronger the closer I get. Whatever it is, I hate going over there. Hate it. God, I hope none of the suits are over there. I'd kinda like to look through some of those boxes dad's still got in the attic at this house, see if there's anything of mine in there. Or anything of hers. It'd be a lot easier if no one was there. And I don't even want to think about if dad's got a girl over there. That wasn't such a fun time walking in on that. She'd looked like she wasn't all that much older than me. I almost threw up in the foyer. He's not home. I'm relieved on so many levels. But at least I came over here. Mom can't get mad if I went and he wasn't here. I'll leave a note, I guess. After about three tries, I come up with, Mom wanted me to come over and say goodbye, but you weren't here. See you later I guess. -F Just "F" is sufficient, I think. I can just hear him now. "20,000 goddamn dollars a year, and he can't write more than that?" The attic is hotter than fucking Hades. I wonder if it ever gets this hot in England. God, my stomach like just did a 180. I don't know anymore if I really want to go. I'd like to just stay here. I wish kind of now that I hadn't graduated early. I sit on a box in the attic and just stare at the few things that are up here. God, if anything up here IS hers... I can't. I just can't. Let's try my room. It's so fucking empty in here that it's almost laughable. I've never even slept in the bed that dad bought for me. I've not slept over here but once since he moved in here and that time I slept on the couch. After I saw dad and his...whatever, I tried not to sit on any of the furniture anymore. There's nothing in my dresser but old baseball cards and some old shorts that I don't think have fit me since I was 12. As I dig around the back of the last drawer I feel something kind of mushy in the back. It'd better not be some fucking dead mouse or I'm really gonna puke. The mushy things, plural, roll to the front of the drawer and it takes me a second to realize what they are. Then I laugh out loud. "Fucking Kevin. I don't believe it." I sniff them and wonder if they'd still work. If they ever would have worked. Becky Tartaglia. Wonder what she's doing now. God, what a little wench she was. The worst part of all of that was that I only stopped wondering a month ago what happened to her that one night, why she never came to see me. It just ate at me and ate at me. Still, she was the only girl who ever wanted to kiss me. I guess that's worth something, even if she was a goddamn lying tramp. I put the things in my pocket for some unknown reason. I don't know what I think I'm gonna do with them. Maybe just so dad doesn't find them in here and tell mom that I've become a drug addict and try to pin one more shortcoming of mine as her fault. Back downstairs, I stand in the foyer and an unwelcome image pops into my head, causing me to run outside. Yick. I turn back toward the home and wonder why dad needed this huge ass house after we moved out. It looks like the summer homes around here that people live in two and three months out of the year. Just empty and lifeless. Dad must either be in D.C. or New York this weekend. I'll bet he doesn't even realize I'm leaving tomorrow. Fuck him. I'm half way into town before I realize I left the car there. I think I knew before I even got out of bed this morning that I'd end up here eventually. I get kind of this sick feeling in my stomach as I climb the stairs to Doc Petersí office. I guess I still feel like dad's gonna find out I've been here and ream me for it. There's a different woman than I've ever seen behind the desk today. There's all kinds of boxes around and the woman's packing things in them. She doesn't see me at first and so turns away and goes back into his office. Hmm. Maybe he's moving. God, suddenly I can't wait to tell him where I'm going. I should have told him like months ago, but I was scared that dad would find out and he'd make both of our lives miserable for it. What was I thinking, anyway? Like dad would have ever really found out. What a fucking jerk. I still can't believe him. God I'm nervous about England. Like really nervous. I'm sure doc'll take at *least* a second to talk to me about it. I'm sure he'll tell me a few things I should know before going there. God, I had forgotten all the things he'd told me. Like a lot of the stuff I know about life, I got from him. He was really more like a dad's supposed to be, probably. "Um, excuse me, ma'am." "Yes?" She says, not looking at me, but keeps packing more things in boxes. "Um, my name...my name is Fox Mulder, and um, I'm an old friend of-of Dr. Peters, I guess. I don't have an appointment or anything, I just wanted...I just wanted to say hi-I mean, goodbye. I'm uh, moving to England. I wanted to tell him that I'm gonna study psychology there. That I kind of decided that because of him." Okay, I can shut up any second now. But she's still packing those damn boxes and it looks like she's not even listening to me, so I'm not sure if I should keep talking or what. Finally she looks at me and sighs. "Well, young man, I'm sure he would have been happy to hear that." "Would have?" "Dr. Peters passed away yesterday. Heart attack, right here on this floor. He was dead before the paramedics ever even got here. I'm sorry." I stand in silence for a long while and finally she goes back into his office. I try to decide whether I'm going to cry or I'm going to puke. Instead my body just shakes and almost against my will I pick up a book from one of the boxes, not even looking to see even if it's just an encyclopedia volume or what. I clutch the thing to me and walk out of the office on very shaky legs. I sort of float back down the stairs. When I reach the outside door to the street, the light swallows me up. I can hardly see, my eyes won't adjust. So I just hold the book and I walk. xxxxxxxxx After what must have been 3 hours, I realize that for the majority of that time, I have been just sitting on the beach. Not in that same spot I used to go to. I haven't been back there since the Becky incident. This is a totally different beach and I'm not sure exactly quite where I am. I think I walked south from downtown Chilmark, so I must be somewhere between mom and dad's house. I wouldn't be surprised if I wasn't smack dab in the middle. It's getting dark and I'm kinda cold now. This is how I imagine it'll be in England. All the pictures I've ever seen on TV, like with the queen and her frog prince son and stuff, it's always like raining. God, I really don't want to go anymore. Dead. God, I can't believe it. He wasn't any older than my dad. I finally think to look at my stolen piece of his belongings. Ceremoniously, I turn the apparently very well read book over to reveal the title. Modern Man in Search of a Soul by Carl Gustav Jung. I laugh in disbelief and look up into the sky. And for the first time in my life, I feel that life after death really is a very distinct possibility. A dream answers...no, that wasn't it. Answers in a dream...Shit what was it? Why can't I remember that? One more thing I wish I could see him one more time to ask him. I do remember Doc saying once that most of the world is asleep perpetually. That so many people miss so many things because their minds are closed off to so many possibilities. That as we age, we sleep more and more, seeing less and less of what's available to us all the time. Another thing I remember was reading about how many of the acient Native American tribes took hallucinogens so that they can be with the souls of the dead. They believe those souls walk among us all of the time, but we're like, not awake to them. To be able to see them. I want to know. I want to believe that there is so much more out there, in the atmosphere, on this planet, in this universe. One year ago I was going to find that out, I thought. One year ago I was going to go, with Becky Tartaglia, to a higher plane of existence, with these pieces of mold that I've got in my pocket. I was going to do that and then try and lose my virginity, finally, with her. But, like so many other things in my life, she never showed. Wonder what they taste like. They're all smashed up from being in my pocket. They probably wouldn't even do anything even if I did try one. If they ever did anything in the first place. But I could try. Well first of all, they taste like shit. Literally. Not that I've ever actually tasted shit, but I imagine from the smell that this is what it tastes like. I swallow it anyway and then I sit. Out of boredom coupled with the fact that I don't have any seeds with me, I pop another into my mouth. Then another, till all four of them are gone. Leaning back on my hands, I close my eyes and wait. I guess I'm feeling kind of weird, now. I'm not entirely sure, though. Could just be the fact that I didn't eat anything yet today. Now I kinda hope that this really works. And if it does, that I'll be able to see doc. I could ask him that dream question AND tell him I'm studying England because of him. I could ask him everything I need to know. I open my eyes and nothing looks different. Just slower. Well, and the ocean smells louder or something. Jesus... Oh shit. They're doing *something*, anyway. I turn and look down the beach. Something catches my eye. A fire. And a woman. A girl, I think. I laugh. Maybe it's Becky. Becky being stood up this time. I think I'm thinking (could be someone else telling me, though) that I'd like to be by that fire because I'm really really cold. And that cold just keeps getting louder and the fire girl looks warm and safe. She's not Becky. So I walk and walk and walk, and I don't seem to be getting much closer to her. But everything is slower outside now. So it stands to reason... The girl is small. Very small. She's in jeans and a tight, striped T-shirt with long sleeves. Her goes down her back and is a little curly at the ends. She's got a stick in her hand and she's tracing stuff into the sand. She's exquisite. I cannot move and when she turns to look at me, I will my body to sink into the sand. I suddenly feel as though I'm not wearing any clothes. "What're you gaping at?" She says and I think I can taste the sound of her voice on the roof of my mouth. "Uhhhhh nu-nothing-"You're very beautiful, do you know that?" "Do I know you?" "Uhhh...no...yeah...no." "Well, are you just going to stand there all night?" "Don't got anything else to do." "Well you can sit, you know." I sit down right next to her and I feel so warm. SO warm. And I feel like if I take my eyes off this beautiful girl, woman, whatever, that I'll get cold again. That she'll disappear. I don't want her to disappear. "You're very, very pretty." "Are you going to keep saying stuff like that the whole time?" I shrug. I don't know quite what to say to that. It's like all I can manage to think about, though. "Do you know what are you doing out here?" I look over in the direction I came from and it looks like there is nothing there. "I don't, I can't remember, umm...I was over there and I um was..." I trail off because I can no longer think. She is so gorgeous and she just smiled at me. I know this girl, this woman. And I love her. God, there is so much I want to tell her! "Um, a good friend of mine died yesterday," is what I decide to start with. She puts her hand on my wrist and I jump from the sensation. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I didn't get to tell him...um...well something I would have wanted him to know." "That happens a lot." "Does it?" "I think so, I think people die and we never feel that we've done everything we could have. There's always something left unsaid." God, it's like she knows what I'm thinking. Unspoken communication. "Have you ever, um, have you ever had that happen?" "Not yet. But I will. Again and again." "Oh." I should be telling her it won't happen to her, that nothing bad will happen to her, but somehow I know what she says is true. "Well if you know, then why don't you keep it from happening?" "I don't know." That's all we say for a very long time. God, she's so pretty, I can't stand it. "What...what's your name?" "Dana," she says and pulls her hair over her shoulder. "I think I've been waiting here for you." Dana. Dana. "Well, I've been here the whole time. I think." I look over again where I thought I had come from and it's just beach and ocean, no docks, no boats, I can't hear any cars up on the road. It's like the same patch of land repeated to infinity. "I was just over...there...there...I think..." She leans close to me and speaks low, "No, actually you've come a long, long way." Who IS this woman and why do I have this strange urge to tell her that I've missed her? She's the most incredible person, if not the most incredible thing I've ever seen in my life. I stare at her a very long time, trying to memorize her features so that I could describe her to an artist and he'd be able to paint her for me. Her face is pale and her eyes match the color of the ocean. Her hair is blowing in the wind and on to me and she is like light. I want to stay here with her forever. I don't ever wanna go anywhere but here. After about a million years, I say nearly against my will, "I miss you, Dana." "I'm right here," she says her voice is gentler than my mother's could ever be. "Iím always here, too. I'll always be here." "I wanna stay here with you, always stay here." "You can't. I'll be here but you have to go back." No! I can't do that. I've never felt this way before, I feel so strong and really, really loved. She makes me feel this way and I don't ever want to leave that feeling behind. I decide to let her know how very serious I am. "I love you so much though, I love you and I wanna stay." "You can visit me when you sleep, when you dream." "That's not enough. I want to be with you, for real, like it is now. I'm going away, overseas. Come with me there " "I will, I'll be with you everywhere. But you won't be able to see me for awhile." "Dana, I don't understand, I don't..." She touches my face and smiles again and my soul suddenly feels like it's too big for my body. "You will." ìGod, I can't, I need you now." I want to touch her so badly, but I feel like I'm going to lose her if I do. "I love you love you and I miss you and I wanna be with you always," I blurt out, not even thinking about how ridiculous it sounds. "It's not possible. But I'll be here inside you. And you can come back sometimes." I feel like sobbing, out loud, sob like I haven't done since I was a real little kid. I can't bear the thought of living without this woman. I need her, even though I don't even know her. I don't know what this is, why I'm here, how she got here, and how I'm supposed to be able to be with her again. God, I feel so overwhelmed "Why ARE you here? Who are you?" "I told you, I'm Dana. And I dont know why I'm here inside you. I just am." "But why? What for?" "I dont know." She sighs and goes back to tracing her stick in the sand. "Not everything has an answer. But maybe it's so you won't give up." I don't know what she's talking about. I'm not giving up on anything. I haven't even started school yet. Right now I just care only about her. "I need to know, I need to know you," I beg absolutely shamelessly. "You will, you do." "God, Dana, I just want you now, please. Let's just stay here forever." "We can't." "Please!" She shakes her head sadly. "I'm sorry. You'll see me again, I can promise you that. Just don't forget." How could I forget? How could I forget something so absolutely wonderful? Something so unequivocally important. But I can't believe she's even suggesting that we part now. Not now, now that I finally found her. I feel so complete right now. Where I used to feel like this huge hole in me, like an area of nothingness, she's there, she's like everywhere. But I can also feel that she is right. That there is nothing I can do to make her stay, to be able to stay with her. So I just stare. I try to burn her image into my memory, because even though I've got a good one, I'm terrified that I'm going to forget it. Itís amazing that just looking at her makes me feel warmer. Her eyes sparkle in the light from the fire and her lips are so full and they look so soft and God, I'd really like to kiss them. Maybe I could have at least that. At least that way I could know if this was really real or what. "Will you let me kiss you then, for now?" "I'd like that," she smiles and I can hardly believe it. She leans in and my heart pounds in my chest. My head screams, ìDon't fuck this upî as we put our hands on each other's faces. First her right hand at my cheek and then mine. Her hand, her skin is so soft and I already feel my body reacting to the mere feel of her skin on mine, both at my hand and at my face. Then I put my left hand on the other side and I feel my arms start to shake. In a space of time that feels like an hour, our lips meet and I feel like my soul is burning the insides of my body. It's like moving around in there, bouncing off the walls of it. Without thinking, I dart my tongue out so that I can taste her lips and she immediately opens her mouth and pulls it inside. She tastes sweet, she tastes beautiful, she tastes like brightness. Our tongues glide over each otherís and I'm lost in it. I open my eyes and the space we're in is moving in circles around us. And she's actually like, glowing. This is in no way like the way it was with Becky Tartaglia. This is about love. I love this girl, this woman, whatever. And I know she loves me. It's so wild 'cause it's like I can ëhearí it in her kiss. I don't want her to ever go anywhere. Our hands still at our faces, she pulls back finally. Looking straight into my eyes, with a most solemn look on her face, she says, "I think you should make love to me." Make love? Can she really be serious? "Yeah I...I think so too." She smiles again, this time laughing a bit, in a way that makes my stomach flip. "I'll bet you do," she says and then kisses me again, starting at the side of my mouth and then down my neck. -Just don't go, Dana, just don't go,- I think so hard as I feel her hands sliding up underneath my shirt. Her hands are about the softest things I've ever felt, but it's like, they're so familiar. I know I've never met this girl before, but I know her. I was born knowing her. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart, I'm right here, all the time," she whispers into my ear. "All you have to do is look for me and I'll be here." I press my mouth on her neck and nibble at her jaw and kiss her face in this like desperate and totally strange attempt to memorize something that I seem to already have known. This is so great but I'm so afraid that I'm going to forget her. I need to be able to able to find her again. Eventually I'm aware that we're naked and lying on the sand, facing one another. She is kissing my chest and I'm holding her head with my hands. Her hair's different. It's shorter, redder, and softer. She's humming into my skin and I'm happier now than I've ever been in my life. She's telling me that she's always loved me. And still I'm scared I'm never going to be able to feel like this again. -How am I gonna know you'll be there? I'm afraid I'll forget you. I'm gonna forget you.- She raises her head to me and she's no longer a girl, but a woman. Her hair is shorter, her eyes older. I know her, though. It's still her. I kiss her, intensely, for a very, very long time and in her kiss she's promising me that I wonít forget, but I'm still uncertain. -But you don't know me. I don't trust myself to remember.- "I do know you, Fox..." she speaks into my mouth. We spend what seems like hours just touching one another, but it's so wierd again because it's like I've done it all before. And I'm not worrying about whether or not I'm doing it wrong. I just do it. I just do what feels right. And she's smiling and moaning and moving against me and I feel like I'm starting to melt into her. I still need to know, though. "Where will you be?" "I'll be here." I think I'm inside of her now. Not just me, but my whole self, physical and mental. The vibrations are constant and growing. It's incredible. She glowing and and I see nothing now but her. There is no beach, no sand, no ocean. There is only her and only me. And then I'll be there, out there, with you on the outside as well," she says. "And you'll know." -When?- -Soon.- Everything is much much lighter now. I feel like I'm made up of only water or air. Dana is light and I'm being drawn into her, further and further. The vibrations continue and become increasingly intense. It never seems to let up. The colors around her are bursting and the euphoria of this moment is nearly overwhelming. And it feels like heaven. This goes on for a very long time, but soon enough I feel her pulling away from me. I try to follow, but I just can't. -I need you now, Dana. I need you. I love you. I love you. I need to be with you now.- -Not yet baby, not yet. But soon.- "God, Dana, don't go! Don't go! I can't do this. I can't. God, please. Dana! Dana!" xxxxxxxxx "Da-....Da-...d-" What the hell? What the FUCK was that? What happened? What the hell happened last night. Last night, right? We had sex, didnít we? I certainly felt incredible anyway. Her who, though? D-on-na. No, no it was Delia? God, what the hell was her name? I knew it at the time. I knew at the time that I wasnít going to forget her. I just realized that I'm totally naked. SOMETHING must have happened last night. So where the hell did the mystery girl and all my clothes go? Looking around quickly, I can't find my clothes at all. They're like gone. Shit, how am I gonna get home like this? By chance, I happen to look down the beach. There's little blue pile about 25 feet down from me. I walk toward them, only partially concerned if anyone will show up and see me naked. Mom and dad would be thrilled with that. Having to bail my ass out of jail for indecent exposure the day I leave for college. Finally I reach the pile and see my jeans and my shirt and socks and shoes in front of me, covered in sand and soaking wet. Reaching down to grab them, I determine that I must have been here all night, lying naked on the beach and I'm probably lucky that my clothes aren't in Finland by now. Then I discover uneaten portions of the mushrooms embedded in the sand. Obviously they hadn't lost their potency if I'm sitting naked on the shore wondering what happened to the woman I had sex with last night went. What a trip. Or dream or whatever. So fucking real. I'm kinda glad I never got to take them with Becky Tartaglia. She would have been in the way. In the way of me and the woman I'm in love with. But wait, it was just a dream. Or trip, whatever. But God, it's like I can still see her, smell her, feel her. I can see her smile. Kind of. I remember what her lips tasted like, I think. She WAS here, there's no way I could have imagined it. I sit down to try and pull on my very wet and grainy clothes. At my side are the remains of what could have been beach fire. There are ashes and the burnt pieces of driftwood are all wet from last night's tide. Well *someone* had a fire. And I don't remember lighting it. She had. Behind me, I can see the outline of a body in the sand, of TWO bodies side by side. There are indentations there as though two people, one quite large and the other short and small, had been there for the better part of the night. But I woke up down there. Suddenly I feel extremely dizzy and there's this empty gnawing in my stomach. Not like nausea, but emptiness. Then I remember more. The buzzing and the vibrations and this feeling of complete fluidity and pure freedom. And her. God, I'm forgetting what she looked like. She was beautiful. And I swear I did make love with her. And it was the happiest, most joyful experience of my life. A lucid dream, maybe? Maybe you really can communicate with the dead when you're high. Or maybe she was just, like me, a lost soul who wondered somehow onto this beach and I was fortunate enough to have met her. Or maybe I met my soulmate! God, yes, that's IT! It WAS her, I just know it. And her name was Dara. No, Denise. God, what was it?! Well at least I remember that she had brown eyes. No, no they were green like mine. No. Shit, God, please don't let me forget her! I feel very sad all of a sudden and tears are falling from my eyes. I lost her. She's gone, she didn't stay. She promised she'd stay and now I've forgotten her name and there's no way I'll ever be able to find her. I miss her already. I don't want to go anywhere. I just want to stay her and wait for her to come back again. I do remember for sure that her name started with a "D," though. I know that beyond a shadow of a doubt. Maybe she came to me so that I'd know her when I got to England, though. Maybe that's where she is. God, I fucking hope so. So bad. PLEASE, God, let her be there waiting for me. Fucking A, what time is it? When was I home last? Shit, I'm such a dead man. xxxxxxxxx "GODDAMMIT, BILL!! You'd better not be lying to me or by God I'll..." Oh shit. I really am a dead man. She's desperate if she called dad. I just about make it past her when she stops mid-yell and says to my dad, "Nevermind, Bill, he just walked in." She hangs up the phone and I hear her voice once I've reached the top of the stairs. "Fox William Mulder get down here this minute." Fuck. My feet squish in my shoes as I descend the stairs again. My skin itches like hell from all of the sand thatís gotten to every conceivable crevice on my body. All I want to do right now is take a fucking shower. "What happened?" is all she says, in a cool, even tone. "Um, I, uh..." I really don't know what to say to her. I don't honestly know what happened myself. "I'm waiting, Fox." I can't speak. Anything I say to her right now is just going to end up incriminating me. "Do you know what time it is?" It must be early because I can hear Jane Pauley on the TV in the kitchen and the percolator is going. "Um, no, not really. What time is it?" She sighs deeply and closes her eyes. She's trying really hard not to explode on me, I can tell. My mouth is so dry and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to be explaining myself or just waiting here for the explosion. "Your clothes are ruined. Look at your shoes. Do you really think there's time to get you new ones before we go to the airport tonight?" She breathes deeply three times. "Now where were you?" "Chilmark." "Chimark. All day? All night?" "Um, yeah. On the beach. I spent the night on the beach." "Don't you dare lie to me, Fox. I know for a fact you were not anywhere near Chilmark last night." I don't know what to say to that. This time, I'm really not lying to her. How would she know that I wasn't there anyway? "You know your father and I had the police looking for you." "Just in Chilmark?" "And West Tisbury and Reed's Crossing. You weren't anywhere to be found around there." First of all, I canít believe that they did that and second, I canít believe that the police force in this town sucks so bad that they couldnít find me on the fucking beach!! "But mom, that's exactly where I was. I was right there, like since yesterday afternoon." "I don't want to say it again. Donít you lie to me, Fox Mulder! I'm not a fool.î Now what do I say? ìYou were with a girl, weren't you?" "A girl?" God what the hell? Where the hell did that come from? "I can see it all over your face. You think I donít know what a boy looks like after he's spent the night with a girl? Now I don't really care that you were or who it was, but you could have at least called." I'm not sure what to think about that statement. Do I really look like I just had sex? Can you really look at people and be able to tell something like that? It's probably just the fact that she's my mother. Or maybe because she had this situation happen entirely too many times between her and dad. Whatever it is, itís making me feel just plain weird. "For now you're still living under my roof and you will live by my rules, which means calling me if you are going to be out all night!" Oh God, sheís really yelling now, like the way she yells at dad and sheís even starting to turn red. She must have been really worried. God, this is the last thing I wanted to deal with the day I leave for school. "But, mom, Iím leaving tonight, you know." "It doesn't matter! You are still my son and until you leave this house..." She stops and clears her throat. I think she's gonna cry again. "I'm sorry mom. I didn't plan on being gone, really, it just sorta happened. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." "Just try to use a little more common sense next time, Fox. Have a little consideration for the people who care about you. Please. You are not the only human being on this earth." "I-I'll try, I guess." She puts her finger to her eye and flicks away the moisture there. "Go and take your shower. Put your shoes and those clothes in the hall so I can wash them for you." xxxxxxxxx 4:15 p.m. "Shit, where's that fucking list?" I say this out loud in the middle of the drug store like someone's supposed to come to my rescue or something. Yeah, you're so brilliant, Mulder. You can score straight A's and graduate early but you can't remember 5 fucking things you need at the drugstore. Mom got over her anger and so I guess I'm forgiven. I ran to dad's and picked up my car and had to endure what I think was supposed to be discipline and fatherly advice and a tender moment goodbye scene all conveniently squeezed into the span of three minutes. Aside from the few things I needed to get here, I guess I'm basically read to go. I'm not quite as nervous about it, except when I see mom crying over it. I guess England's just a little too far away for her. And the fact that itís England at all is probably a little weird for her. "Fox Mulder?" God, where do I know that voice from? I turn around to see a woman with short brown hair in a huge sweatshirt. Jesus, could that really be her? "Fox Mulder? Do you remember me?" Becky fucking Tartaglia. Gee, I guess maybe I had the wrong location this whole time. Go figure. Something in me still wants to shake the hell out of her and ask her why the she never showed, though. She's not her, so really, the whole thing had been a waste of time anyway. Rebecca doesn't start with a "D." God, Why did I ever even care about that whole thing? "Uh...Hi Becky. Sorry, RE-becca." She approaches me tentatively and I notice that her cheeks look kinda puffy. And she looks a LOT older. She looks very different. Heavier, maybe? "So...how have you been? I heard you went to school in Mass." "Yeah, it was nice to get away from here, actually. It helped me get a little perspective." "Oh...yeah?" I can't believe I was ever fascinated by this girl. "Yeah, this town's so small ya know, very isolated." "Well you look great, Fox, really, really great." She puts a hand on my arm in a totally phony friendly gesture. I pull away from the touch because she's letting her hand linger a bit too long. "Thanks, you havenít changed a bit yourself." She laughs affectedly and I swear she's batting her eyelashes at me. "Oh, thanks, um, so are you going back to school in the fall?" "I'm going to Oxford actually. Iíve enrolled at St. Catherineís College." "Oxford? You mean you're not going back to Massachusettes?" "No, I uh, graduated a year early." "Really? Wow. That's pretty impressive. Well you always were really smart, Fox." Alright, this is about all the fun I can handle for today, but something eggs me on. For some reason I feel this sick need to avenge myself. "So, what have you been up to?" I see her blush and she looks down at the floor. "Uh, well, I'm engaged, actually." "Really? A year from graduation and you've landed someone, Becky? Who is it, one of the nice boys from our old school?" "You remember Robert Jensen, right?" "Ah yes, I think he helped me with some dental work once, those front teeth were about ready to come out anyway." She laughs uncomfortably again. "Yeah well, we're getting married next month. Iím going to finish my schooling at home with a tutor." Next month? I look her over again and wonder if it's not just my imagination that she looks heavier. I don't really care about the fine details of why she's getting married before graduation or whether or not she's going to have a ì7th month premature" baby. With a touch of sadness, I remember the tough girl who could only have her adamant convictions and liberal opinions safely out of the reach of her friends and family. The young Gloria Steinem who wasn't ever going to get married. I'm so totally over this. Now I almost feel sorry for her. "Well, that's great, Becky. I hope he makes you happy, I hope he can give you what you want." "Yeah well, I'm sure England will be a real experience for you. Sounds very exciting." "I hope so. Itís gotta be better than this place." "Yeah, yeah, I know..." There's a weird silence between us and as I turn to go she walks closer to me and says, "Um, Fox?" "Yep?" "I was just thinking, if you're not uh, busy, I mean...Well are you doing anything tonight? I thought that maybe we could get something to eat or something. Kind of catch up, ya know." I have to keep from laughing out loud at that one. "Yeah, lets meet at 8, Becky." "Oh okay, where?" "Actually that was a vague attempt at a joke. Honestly, I really can't, I've got a lot of packing to do." "Oh well, alright, um, have a great time, Fox. Good luck." "Yeah, you too. Yell Robert I said hello and that the concussion is healing nicely." "Uh, yeah, okay, I...I will." "Bye, Fox." When I've gotten all the stuff I need and bought out the store in it's entire supply of sunflower seeds (they might not have them in England), I get in my car and just sit a minute. Poor Becky. I have to say I feel sorry for her. I'm sure that this isn't the life she had dreamed about for herself. And the thing of it is, it's not like she doesn't have a choice. I wonder if every woman on the Vineyard is a victim to the men in their lives. I won't ever be like that to her. When I find her, I'm going to treat her like she's the greatest thing that ever happened to me. xxxxxxxxxx End xxxxxxxxxx Thanks for reading! mezzo4@aol.com