Cases
of Patient X, Desperate Housewives, and A Drip in the Pan
By DocPaul
Series: Michael
Guerin, The World’s Greatest Alien Investigator
Episode: Seven
Author’s
email: DocPaul2002@yahoo.ca
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none,
Disclaimers:
The
concepts and names are the same, but the characters belong to me. I give them
life, more life than
Warnings: This
is not canon, so if you expect it, don’t. Things change. People change. It
happens.
Summary: A
Michael POV documenting his investigating technique as the World's Greatest
Alien Investigator and a greater insight into what makes him unique.
Author’s note:
This is a fluff piece for me. Thought you could use a relief from angst…or
prolonged angst. The idea of this story is taken in part from the movie Zero
Effect with all parts after the first part completely mine. The Michael Guerin
of this story is a montage of Daryl Zero and Michael Guerin of
The
Case of Patient X, Desperate Housewives, and a Drip in the Pan
Michael Guerin:
The World's
Greatest Alien Investigator
At
what point in a life does the disappointment of life exceed expectation, and all
reality lose hold? I know where it is for me. I am Michael Guerin. I am an
alien. And I am, perhaps, the world’s greatest alien investigator.
For
me, the point where I wanted to just toss my hands up and walk away hit me
square in the forehead, right between the eyes, on today of all days.
My
plumber—our plumber told us today that he underestimated the bid on our
house’s plumbing. Dammit, those pipes better be precious metal, because the
cost is staggering.
I would accuse Kenny Jensen of inflating the price,
but strange as it might seem, most people in this small burg fear me. Yeah, get
out of here. I know. Me! I’m harmless, you know—unless I’m not.
I’ve
had Kenny work on a few of my projects, so I know he’s a pretty up and up,
guy. I think maybe it is the increased bathrooms in the house, or the modified
plumbing, but whatever it is, our house fund has taken another baseball bat
across the head. Bludgeoning would feel better. My trusty assistant has taken it
in stride, and like a chipmunk, I suspect she is hoarding food. That’s okay.
In her body is an investment in both of our futures, and I want her to be
healthy and well fed.
Anyway,
this leads to my latest case, and ensuing concepts prevalent in the case.
Expectations. Many of us have expectations, some more ambitious than others. I
think of Liz, and her expectations of marrying Max after high school, setting up
house, and making babies—living happily ever after. I think of my expectations
of renovating a fine old house to its former glory and raising my family in it.
I think of the expectations of most people to just live their lives without real
strife, in happy doldrums, hardly bothered by wanting concern.
Obviously,
expectations can be set a tad bit too high, and for those who had unrealistic
ones, the disappointment is a hard and bitter pill to be settled with, as life
takes a turn to the worse. I wonder how many people could truly take life if it
came in an even kneel, hardly breaking the surface as everything fell into
place. Maybe we need a little dissention in our lives to give it a taste of
effort—to make it fun and interesting?
I
personally have added all the spice I need in my life in the form of my trusty
assistant. That woman—she could get into trouble while dipping out ice cream,
alone, in a locked room, surrounded by padded walls. She insists that I am the
maker of all the major messes in her life, but don’t believe it. Maria DeLuca
is a target for random firing. I feel lucky when the day ends and she is tucked
up next to me, safe, having bit the bullet one more day.
Honestly,
how many women do you know that have stepped on an alligator? Attended a meeting
that was mass poisoned? Married an extraterrestrial? Pursued by an FBI Special
Unit, other aliens, and was almost eradicated by a silly looking flying
jellyfish? I rest my case.
So
this leads to my next case, The Case of Patient X, Desperate Housewives, and a
Drip in the Pan.
No, this is not verbose. It is highly descriptive,
especially the dripping part. Details. Everything is made clear in details.
In
good investigative techniques, it is important not to enclose yourself with what
you feel is provable, but realize that everything is possible.
“What
if we have Kenny only do the lower bathrooms and kitchen, and we can do the
upper floors later?” Maria suggested while stirring a pot. Tasting the sauce,
she frowned. “Michael, taste this. Something is missing.”
Obediently
tasting, Michael nodded. “Sour. Any more salt will kill it.”
“Lemon
juice?”
“That
might work.” Michael juice of a fresh lemon to the pot. “Taste.”
“Hmm,
better.” Maria shook off freshly washed lettuce leafs over the sink, removing
excess moisture. “So Kenny?”
“I say
we go for it. It’s just money.”
“Money
we don’t happen to have right now.”
“True,
but three jobs are closing soon. We could dip into the company, cover the
plumbing, and replace at the jobs end.”
Maria plopped down in a chair at the kitchen table.
“Honestly, we need to talk about this. When we started the companies, we knew
we would need to reinvest most of the money from the jobs back into the
companies. If we start pilfering from our companies now, we could be looking at
a real slippery slope. All the literature says that it takes at least five years
before new companies are stable and out of the red.”
“True, but then again, we’re only paying
ourselves passable wages. Even the cars are technically company property.”
Michael hooked a chair, turning it around before sitting down, to have a one on
one serious talk with Maria. “We could wait, take a little longer on the house
renovations—true. Do you want to do that?”
Maria looked around at her unfinished kitchen.
“No. I don’t want to stop. My worst nightmare is being one of those couples
that live in an unfinished house for twenty years, with tomorrow being the day
they’re going to get to that.”
“Agreed.” Michael clasped his hands in front of
him. “I knew this house was going to take work, but what I see in my
head—the vision. God, Maria—the vision is worth everything.”
“I can’t see you as this old settled married
man, sitting outside in a hammock all content. You know that, right?”
“I don’t see that either,” he confessed. “I
see nothing but ongoing chaos in our house for years to come.” Michael took
Maria’s hand. “Maria, I see five children, lots of mess and noise, and a
huge satisfaction watching them grow. It doesn’t matter how much money we make
or don’t make, we’ll always need more.”
“Five children,” Maria’s eyes narrowed as she
looked her husband over. “You didn’t envision the woman who is going to push
five kids out of her body, because if you’re looking at me—forget it!”
Michael laughed. “Don’t be too sure.”
Maria's mouth rounded, hating it when he used his
mystical alien mystique to suggest things. Heck, did that not almost get her
arrested in
He liked spaghetti and soup out of a can. A little
poverty never hurt anyone, and it wasn’t like he and Maria didn’t have a
lifetime of experience at making ends meet.
Michael paused when he saw the man on their
doorstep. He looked familiar.
“You probably don’t remember me, but …”
“Dr. Persinsky from the ER.”
“Right, how's your friend?”
“He’s alive,” said Michael, not really sure if
what Max was doing was living, but in a physical sense, sure.
“Good to know.” Adam Persinsky seemed a tad bit
nervous.
“Can I help you?”
“Actually, this might sound stupid, but I heard
this rumor that you find things—things that are lost.”
Michael looked the man over. Nodding, he motioned
for the doctor to enter the house. He owed him, sort of, for not demanding to
take Max’s blood. “Why don’t you come in. I need to check on my wife
before she eats the kitchen.”
Adam laughed, “Voracious appetite?”
“You’ve no idea.” Michael led the way.
“She’s almost five months pregnant, and I think she must have mutated into
part goat.” The doctor chuckled behind him as they went to the kitchen.
Maria was tasting a bowl of the spaghetti sauce with
half a loaf of toasted garlic bread when Michael returned.
“A taste test?” he guessed.
“It’s good.” Maria wiped her hands and stared
at the stranger curiously.
“This is Dr. Persinsky, the doctor that treated
Max for the snake bite.”
“Oh!” Maria smiled, leaning forward to offer her
hand to the man.
“Adam, please call me Adam.”
“Maria,” she said motioning to a chair. “We
were just going to eat. Would you care to join us?”
“If there's anything left.” Michael stared into
the pot. Incredible. He was only gone for a few moments.
“No, I’m fine. I just got off work. The amount
of hospital food I consume in one day makes eating a horrifying experience. I
usually need a few hours to adjust to the thought of real world food.”
“So is this about Max?” Maria asked, confused by
why an ER doctor would seek them out.
“No, actually I heard around that your husband
finds missing things, and I have something I need found.”
Michael took a chair, “And that would be?”
“A patient, I’ve lost a patient.”
Maria stared at the man for a moment, then shared a
look with Michael. A missing patient sounded serious, something more in
Valenti’s job.
“I’m sorry, maybe you should put in a missing
person report with the local PD,” Michael suggested.
“No, you don’t understand.” Adam seemed
slightly embarrassed. “I have patients—too many. Over the last six weeks to
two months I have treated numerous cases of the ‘drip’, and despite
treatment, and informing my patients that they must inform their sexual
partners, the cases are increasing.”
“Teenagers,” said Michael more to himself,
shaking his head. Gonorrhea was the STD of the young. They should be more
careful. Even when he and Maria became sexually active, they were always careful
to use protection. STDs was a consideration, but they were more concerned with
pregnancy and protecting Maria from anything unknown from his alien physiology.
“Actually,” said Adam with a full blush, “my
patients are all middle aged. All women, none who will confess who they got it
from, and so my missing patient is an unknown male—Patient X.”
“These—middle aged women, can’t they just
inform this ‘Patient X’ to come in for a shot in the ass and antibiotics,
plus toss the man a few boxes of condoms?”
“I think it’s a bit more complicated than
that,” Adam seemed embarrassed. “Most of them are married, and none of them
want their husbands to find out where they became infected.”
Michael lifted a brow, sitting back, a flash of
amusement moved across his face. “The husbands need treatment too,” he
pointed out.
“Surprisingly—um, very few of them. Most of the
women convinced their husbands to come in for ‘routine’ physicals. Only two
out of the bunch were infected, and I gave the others oral antibiotics as a
prophylactic precaution.”
“You had to inform the two men that were infected
about their disease state, correct?” Maria asked.
“Yes, and it was a bit uncomfortable. One man was
certain he got it from—elsewhere, and wanted to know if he had to tell him
wife. I offered to do a physical on his wife. He wanted extra antibiotics. I
think he was going to slip them in her tea or something.”
“Scum,” Maria said under her breath,
conveniently forgetting how the man really became infected.
Michael gave her an amused look, before turning back
to Adam. “And the other man?”
“Let’s just say he’s not too happy with his
wife right now.”
“Yeah, well a needle in my ass would require a bit
of explaining too,” Michael said dryly.
Maria frowned. “And the other husbands and
boyfriends weren’t exposed.”
Michael laughed. “Guess we know why the wives are
going outside.”
“Hmm.”
***
“Watcha thinking?” Maria asked Michael’s
reflection in the mirror. She was sitting at the vanity applying skin saving
moisturizer while he languished in bed, propped up by their pillows.
“It’s late. I’ll tell you in the morning.”
“Uh-huh. That means it’s something I won’t
like,” Maria guessed as she capped the moisturizer. “If you told me now,
you’re afraid you won’t get lucky, or worse yet, I’ll toss you from the
bedroom sans pillow and blanket.”
“True.”
Michael reached up when Maria came over to the bed,
pulling her down on him. Maria sighed. He had her pillow, so she might as well
use him.
“So it’s that bad?”
“Shhh.” Michael’s mouth found the side of her
neck as one hand went down to rest on the small swell of her stomach. “I’ll
tell you in the morning.”
“Coward.”
“This isn’t cowardly, honey. It’s self
preservation. I’m horny.”
“Oh geez, and this is news? When aren’t you?”
Michael rolled her under him, his eyes gleaming in
amusement. “I remember being jumped in the shower this morning.”
“You were hogging the hot water. A woman has to do
what a woman has to do. This is a beauty culture.”
“Uh-huh.” Michael kissed her, really digging
that low husky moan thing she did deep in the back of her throat. Pregnancy was
a great thing. She had a very short fuse, and it didn’t take much effort to
get her from zero to sixty. He liked distracted Maria, the way she seemed not to
realize what was going on.
“Maria?”
“Hmm?”
Michael worked his way downward, sucking on her
sweaty skin, mumbling as he went. “You’re going to help me, right?”
Michael continued downward, adding a bit of persuasion to his cause.
“Oh god! Yes—yes, just don’t stop. Whatever
…” Her hand clenched in his hair.
Michael smiled against her skin. So what? Everything
was fair in love and war.
***
“No!” Maria banged her breakfast plate into the
sink. “Absolutely not!”
“You promised.”
“Did not!”
“Last night,” Michael said, not in the least bit
guilty for using a promise made in the throes of passion. A good investigator
learns to harness all his God given talents to the working of his craft.
“Oh! That is not fair! I was hardly myself, and if
I had my wits about me—there is no way in hell …”
“Maria! The baby!” Michael nodded to her
stomach. “Your language.”
“My language be damned! He can’t hear. He’s a
fetus.”
“Alien one. How do you know? Huh? You sing to him
all the time—talk to him.”
Maria huffed. Her eyes narrowed as she looked her
large manipulative husband over. “I really hate you sometimes!”
“So you’ll do it?”
Maria grabbed her bag, more than happy to leave. His
presence was pissing her off. “Yeah, I’ll do it, but you owe me—big!
Don’t think I’m going to forgive you this for a he—heck of a long time.”
“Thanks, honey,” said Michael as the kitchen
door slammed in a tantrum. “What? No kiss goodbye?”
Okay, so she might actually be a little mad. He
would smooth things over later.
***
“Maria, no! Anything but that!”
“Please, Liz,” Maria wheedled. “I can’t go
alone, and you’re my best friend. I need you.”
“Michael got you into this, didn’t he,” Liz
guessed.
“Please?”
Liz stared at her friend and sighed. “Okay, but
there has to be some retribution for this type of abuse. You can’t let that
evil husband of yours run you down like this. You’re pregnant. He should be
protecting you from harm, not forcing you to a den of horrors all for his stupid
case.”
Maria sniffed, feeling very put out, and pleased
that she had someone on her side. Joining her arm with Liz, she tried to smile
bravely. “How bad can it be? I mean—really?”
The two young women soon found out as they stood in
the doorway of Sally’s Cut and Clip Beauty Emporium, the hotbed of
“Is that Maria DeLuca-Guerin?” Oh, crud. It was
Big Sally herself. Her frosted tip hair and baby blue powered eyelids trapped
the two fleeing girls. Placing her immense bulk between them and the door, she
shuttled the two girls back into the bat cave, smashing them heartily between
her two enormous boobs. Maria groaned. It was official, Sally’s bosom was
definitely real, and that was more than she really wanted to know.
“Maria DeLuca-Guerin and little Lizzie
Parker-Evans! I never thought to see you two here in my little establishment!
This is a real honor, and I think it calls for a full day of beauty!” Sally
gave Maria a calculated look. “I hear that your husband finally got around to
getting you in the family way. I swear, just looking at that man, I thought you
would’ve had a least a full litter by now—he looks virile. He is virile
isn’t he? Why I heard tell that …”
The room all stared at them as Sally went on with
her favorite Michael Guerin rumors, and Liz, against her will gave a little
squeak of fear. Oh no. Oh this couldn’t be good! Maria was struggling to find
a door when Sally pushed them both into a chair. The two girls reached out to
hold each other’s hand.
***
When Michael got home that evening, he was surprised
to find the house empty, and very quiet. Going upstairs, he didn’t find Maria
napping. He sat on the side of the bed, and called the design office. The
answering machine picked up telling him the business hours, and location, and to
please leave a message and they would return the call the next work day.
Frowning, Michael went downstairs. Maria’s car
wasn’t in the drive. He went into the study to check the answering machine to
see if she left a message. The machine was blinking.
“It’s me. I found out what you wanted.”
Maria’s voice was suddenly quiet. “I’ll give it to you later. I really
don’t want to talk to you right now.” She hung up.
Michael stared at the machine. Okay, she was still
officially upset with him. He got that. Sighing, he went to fix something to
eat, and keep an eye out for Maria. He lasted until almost nine.
Taking his jacket and keys, he went to find her.
There were only so many places she could be. He started with Amy. Maria, when
upset, tended to go find her mother.
***
“Hey,” said Michael when Amy opened the door.
“I wondered how long it would take for you to show
up.”
“She’s here?”
“Upstairs in the bath.” Amy put a hand on
Michael’s arm. “I don’t’ think you want to see her right now. Maybe, go
home, allow her to calm down, and then call back tomorrow or next week—maybe
next month.” Amy seemed to give it some thought. “You know what—maybe
we’ll send you an invite to the baby’s christening.”
“Amy,” Michael said, his voice quiet, and not in
the least bit amused.
“Fine, but try not to upset her too much. She was
pretty upset when she got here. Her lower back was cramping, and she was in
tears. She was really afraid.”
Michael’s face went blank as his stomach hollowed.
“Is she okay? The baby?”
“Fine. I took them to the doctor. They need to go
back in a few days for a follow up.”
“Christ!” Michael took the stairs two at a time.
He didn’t bother to knock when entering the bath, but his feet stopped as his
mouth opened, “Oh crap!”
Maria glanced over at him, and the tears filled her
eyes, as she quickly looked away. “Go away.”
Michael shut the door, walking slowly to the bath,
as if he were walking on eggshells. Kneeling down beside the bath, he looked her
over. She was miserable. She looked—terrifying.
“Look what that evil Sally person did to me!”
“It doesn’t look that,” Michael paused,
sighing in defeat, “okay, it looks terrible. Can’t you wash it out?”
“I tried! Three times.”
“What did she do?” A terrible thought occurred
to Michael. “God, this isn’t permanent? She didn’t perm it, did she?”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m pregnant. I’m not
going to let anyone dump that kind of chemicals on my body, but the fumes in
that satanic shop might have pickled our baby.”
Michael stared at the huge honeycomb network of hair
piled on Maria’s head. He hadn’t realized that she had that much hair, and
it had a strange sheen to it.
“I think she used industrial starch! I can’t get
it out, no matter how often I wash my hair.” Maria sniffed, glancing at
Michael. “Liz is in worse shape.”
“No!” God, he definitely didn’t want to hear
this.
“She looks like Marge Simpson! It added almost a
foot her height, and I was afraid to let her walk in case she toppled over.”
Michael couldn’t help it. He tried, he honestly
tried, but the thought of Maria and Liz leaving Sally’s Cut and Clip Beauty
Emporium in matching bouffant hairdos, both shell-shocked by the ordeal—he
laughed.
“You—you’re laughing! Look at me! You think
this is funny? I—I,” Maria was at a loss of what to say. “Get out! I
swear, Michael Guerin, if you don’t …”
“Honey.”
“Do not honey me! You smooth talking alien
Lothario. I’m all pregnant here, married to an evil alien who uses sex to
blackmail me into doing something I would never do,” Maria shook her head.
Insane. She was insane to ever marry him. “You abused me in a weakened state.
I want a divorce.”
Michael stood up and started to take off his
clothes.
“Stop that! Put your damn clothes back on! Did not
you hear me? I said I want a divorce, and that means I don’t want to see your
damn naked body ever again.” Michael ignored her, his shoes hitting the floor.
Maria tried to not look, but since he wasn’t listening, and he was sort of all
that, she peeked.
“Move forward.”
“No.”
Michael leaned down. “Please? I’ll work on
getting that crap out of your hair. No funny business, and if tomorrow you still
want to break my heart, toss me out—alone, so I have to watch you and my child
live away from me—then okay, tomorrow.”
“You’re being unfair,” she told him. Using his
personal feelings to distract from the injury he caused her was dirty fighting.
“Bastard.”
“I suspect that might be true, but there it
is—nothing I can do about it. Move.”
Maria slid forward. If he could get her poor hair
free of the starch and spray, she might consider keeping him around—maybe.
Michael slowly worked on the hair. Slowly combing it
out as the crap Sally tossed in it slowly dissolved. The damn gunk had
practically arch weld the hair together. Beauty shops should be banned as a
danger to the species. Women went in normal and came out mutated.
He worked on it relentlessly, replacing the hot
water a few times to clear the evil paste, and kept the bath water a comfortable
warm with his powers. He would just run his hands over it, and remove the stuff,
but he was afraid something would happen and he would make a mistake. Maria was
a bit emotional, and probably getting her even more excited wasn’t a good
idea. So, he worked on it slowly.
“I never meant to put you and the baby in danger,
you know that right?” Michael said when at last he had the worse of it gone,
and the rest was falling out easily.
Maria nodded. “I was scared. My back hurt so bad,
and I started to get these spasms.” Michael pulled her back into him, his arms
going around her, holding her close as his head leaned into her back.
“What did the doctor say?” His voice was quiet,
and Maria turned her head a little to hear him better.
“He told me to stay out of Sally’s, not to sit
in an uncomfortable chair for six hours, and whatever I do—do not get
overstressed. They were a few contractions. Nothing to get too worried about.”
“Contractions! You’re not even five months
yet.”
“I know. I have to go back in a few days.” Maria
closed her eyes, resting back against him, her hair already feeling ten pounds
lighter. “I didn’t even get my nap.”
Michael quickly rinsed her hair one last time.
Getting out, he helped her out of the bath. She had to be sitting in there for
hours. What made it any different from sitting in the beauty shop chair?
Carrying her to the guest room, he placed her on the
bed and arranged her in front of him so he could brush out her hair. It looked
better. The drier it got, the more it shined like her normal silky blonde hair.
Putting away the brush, he rearranged her. She had fallen asleep. He was lying
on his side watching her, when Amy knocked on the door.
“Oh, she looks better.”
Amy came into the room, and handed Michael a cup of
hot chocolate. “Here, drink it. You probably need it.”
“Contractions,” he said.
Amy hated the sound in his voice. Maria had been
afraid, and that was normal with a woman’s first pregnancy. Everything
abnormal or unusual was scary, but Michael’s voice was horrible. He sounded as
if he killed Maria and his baby, as if he had abused them dreadfully.
“It was just contractions, Michael. It happens
sometimes. Maria just needs to rest a bit more, and stay stress free. They’re
doing good. You take excellent care of them.”
“It’s not just contractions, Amy.” Michael
whispered loudly trying not to wake Maria. “It’s alien contractions. We were
told alien pregnancies take a month, which could be a lie. Until now, I felt
confident that Maria’s pregnancy was a perfectly normal human one, but
now—what if it’s not? What if this has something to do with the baby being
part alien, and …”
“Michael, honey, you’d do best not to borrow
trouble that’s not yours. I know you worry about it, more than Maria knows,
but you need to let it go. Faith is a hard thing to believe in, but what will
happen will happen, and you worrying and making both you and Maria sick from it
isn’t going to help.”
Michael nodded. Closing his eyes, he shook his head.
“God, I thought she would go, have her nails done, and listen to the gossip.
Only Maria could walk into a modern day torture chamber. This is my fault. I
talked her into it—no, actually I waited until she couldn’t say no, and I
ambushed her into agreeing.”
Amy patted his arm. “Maria doesn’t allow herself
to be talked into anything—not if she hadn’t already half talked herself
into it. If she really didn’t want to do it, she would’ve flat out refused.
She might complain about it, but she really likes working on your cases. And,
you should know by now that using sex or persuasion will not sway Maria. Did it
stop her from breaking up with you and going to New York City when she was
offered a recording contract?”
“No.”
He hated that time in their lives more than anything. It still had the power to
hurt him.
“Of course not. Maria knows better. Sometimes love
isn’t enough—it can’t be. No one lives in a vacuum. We all have desires,
ambitions and wants, and sometimes our heart and our desires aren’t in sync.
There is more that feeds the human spirit than an orgasm or good sex,
Michael.”
Michael was freaking. His mother-in-law was giving
him a sex talk. Kill him now.
“Stop making that face.” Amy laughed, loving the
embarrassed look on his face. Getting to Michael was a treat. “Would you
really want to be able to control her, with your alien mumbo jumbo or sex? Do
you honestly want to be married to a woman that has no say in her life except
what you allow her?”
“No. I understood it back then, and I understand
it now.” Michael glanced at Amy, surprised at how much she understood of his
and Maria’s past, a past that happened before they let her in on the huge
alien conspiracy. “I didn’t always appreciate it, and for a long time it
hurt that I wasn’t enough. That love wasn’t enough.”
Amy kissed his forehead. “Oh, you were enough, she
just had to learn that. Once upon a time, Michael, love wasn’t enough for you
either. You pushed her away, made your life and finding home always more
important than your ‘stupid’ relationship with Maria.” Michael winced at
that. He hated to hear his own careless words thrown back at him. “But you
learned. That day, when you could’ve left forever, you learned that love could
be enough. Maria needed the same chance. Imagine that—a child having to learn.
You didn’t really think she was born with all the right answers, all the
ability to make the perfect decisions—did you? At sixteen, or even
seventeen?”
“She thinks she's always right.”
“She’s not the only one.” Amy smiled and shut
the door behind her.
My
mother-in-law is right. I want everything between me and Maria to be perfect.
Maybe I have this image in my head, an ideal concept of happy ever after. When I
was younger, that image was getting Maria into bed, then being a couple without
it having to be too much work. I guess I thought that once I stayed for her, and
said I loved her, that was it. It was all I needed to do.
It
wasn’t, and I learned quickly that relationships, even good ones require work.
Sometimes the work is having someone actually take the time to notice you. I was
often at fault when it came to noticing Maria. I guess I thought that after all
we'd been through, all the pain and fear, fights and hardship, that nothing
could come between us.
In
hindsight, nothing did, not really, but it took years for me to realize that.
She
left, and I hated it, but then she came back. I hated that too. I felt like I
was the leftovers, that she hadn’t gotten what she wanted and so she came back
for the old standby. It took some time for me to realize that it was never that.
She never had to come back, and she sure as hell didn’t have to put up with my
pissy attitude or disregard. Maria doesn’t think that way, and she sure as
hell does not settle. Like Amy said, Maria tends to make her own decisions, and
she came back to me because I was what she loved, what she didn’t want to live
without.
It
was all about expectations. Maria had expectations about what her life would be
like, what the man she would fall in love with would be like, and how he would
treat her. Let's just say that for a long time, I was a disappointment, and it
wasn’t me personally, it was Maria. She was disappointed in herself. She lost
touch with her own feelings, as they became so wrapped in fear and necessity
that she couldn’t tell if she loved me because she loved me, or because she
had become accustomed to loving me.
She
woke up one day afraid. She couldn’t see the forest for the trees, and she
couldn’t even feel herself breathing. She had spent so long in the conspiracy,
barely treading water, and after Alex died, the fear kept growing. I started it
when I got friends, and she was slowly waking to the idea that I didn’t need
her—not as much as she needed me. She had given away so much of herself, that
she was breathing my air, my life, and my needs. She forgot that she had her
own.
I
think it was a startling moment to realize that she let music go, when at one
time in her life, it was her ‘Michael’—all she thought about, or dreamed
about. When do two equal dreams cancel the other out? Music for my partner is a
piece of her soul. It is the taste, the sound—the very air that breathes. She
sings—she sings because she is happy, and because she is sad. She sings
because it is in her bones.
I was
horribly jealous of her music. It was the one place I never looked, the one part
of her I missed—that I didn’t dominate. And suddenly it wasn’t about her
being afraid that one day I would leave her behind, but rather, that she was
fast leaving me behind.
It
took us some time to find a balance, to find ourselves in each other. One day I
woke up to the fact that she chose me. She could’ve stayed away, and maybe
went on to be a huge singing sensation—she has that much talent, but she
didn’t. She weighed what they were offering her and what she would be
losing—me, and she made a decision, much like the decision I made to walk out
of the pod chamber, to not go home to Antar.
I was
pretty blind at first, hurt and bitter, but one thing I knew, without her in my
life, I wasn’t living. I wanted her back, but I didn’t want it to be the
same again.
I
guess I had expectations too. I wanted her to choose me, for me this time, not
because she became tangled in a web created by Liz and Max’s all so perfect
soul-matey love. I wanted her to look at me, ugly warts, pissy attitude and bad
hair, and see only me—only want me.
I
remember the first time she kissed me after we finally got back together. I knew
she was leaving for college in Las Cruces. It was a deal she made with her
mother. If she tried music, and decided against it—that she would try college.
The rest of our senior year, she agonized over what to do, whether to go to
college, or spend the rest of her life working at the diner singing in crummy
joints at night for extra change. It was hard for her since college was
something she never really considered. She came to my apartment, and looked at
me quietly, as if deep in thought—she told me she was going to Las Cruces for
college come that fall.
It
felt like she was leaving me again, just when I got her back. I asked her again,
would she ever come home to me. I remember, she pushed me down in a chair, and
climbed on top of me. Her hands framed my face, and she leaned down and kissed
me. Not like I remembered her ever kissing me before. In the past, it really had
always been me kissing her, and her coming along for the ride. Except for that
time I wrestled Andrea the Giant—okay, Ray, the 'not such a puppy', this was
the first time she felt confident enough to take the initiative. God, I liked
it—a lot.
She
kissed me, and then said, “No.” She would not come home to me. She said no,
and then she smiled, “because I’m taking you with me. No more running away,
Michael. We both go, or we both stay. Wherever the future is—we go together.
It is what it is, and that’s okay.”
I’d
been waiting for them to come and take me home, to somewhere better than
Roswell, and there it was, in my arms was this small slip of girl offering to
take me somewhere better—somewhere I would never be alone again. All these
years, Maria DeLuca has been the only one who could make me cry, and it’s not
a bad thing. It’s because with her, I feel. I remember crying that day,
because she chose me, and I was enough. That was also the day I knew I was going
to marry her, as soon as I could afford a ring.
Only
a fool would look at his future and let it walk away, twice. Sometimes in this
life, you only get one chance to get it right.
Thinking
of me and Maria, makes it easier for me to think of my case.
Out
there are women, housewives that feel their expectations are not being met, that
what was promised to them with a golden ring is less than what they want.
I use
to be pretty judgmental. Maybe I still am, but I can’t fault a woman for
walking outside her marriage when she is not getting noticed or her desires
aren't being met. Of course, I am not such a hypocrite that I don’t realize
that my tune would be different if it was my wife who was infected by Patient X.
Personally, I don’t believe in infidelity. I believe that if you are not
satisfied, then you should make changes, but not without your spouse knowing.
There is never an excuse for lying to someone you love.
Let’s
just say, I understand it. I understand why Liz is so tortured and disappointed
with her life. She used to want so much, and then she convinced herself that if
she had Max, that she would have everything. Now she is coming to realize that
she needs more, and that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love Max—she does, but
she needs more. Just like Maria, who needed more—her music or maybe just the
opportunity to try, and perhaps fail, but to at least try—Liz is much the
same.
“You still want to divorce me?”
Maria mumbled against his neck, nipping the skin
there, “Maybe next time. You got that crap out of my hair so you redeemed
yourself.”
“Maria,”
his voice was low, and very sexy. “You looked like another woman—like a
terrible 70’s version of a Bond girl. We should’ve taken advantage of it,
you know—it was kind of a turn on.”
Maria sat up in the bed and grabbed the pillow,
whacking him hard across the head. “You’re sick! My mother warned me about
you!”
Michael laughed, tumbling her down on top of him.
“Your mother adores me.”
“Show off.” Maria started to breathe hard, she
tightened her hands on his arms.
“What?” Michael sat up, concerned. “Another
contraction?”
“No—it’s,” Maria shook her head, uncertain
how to describe it. Her stomach was rolling, like a boat on an ocean. She laid
back and lifted the t-shirt she had been sleeping in to stare at her stomach.
Michael stared in wonder as Maria’s stomach moved,
visibly moved. It wasn’t a slight flutter under his hand, or a subtle kick.
Her stomach moved, like a kitten caught in a sack. It might have been a hand or
foot. It was hard to say, but Maria was so small, and the baby was growing fast.
“The baby’s moving. I think he’s hungry.”
“Then we should feed him,” Michael suggested
hoarsely.
Maria looked at him, and her eyes softened. Kissing
him, she whispered to him all the things he needed to hear.
***
“More Mom!” Maria held up her plate. Amy tossed
a few more waffles on it handed over from Michael who was manning the waffle
iron.
“Michael, you better eat too, or Maria will eat
them all.”
“She can have them. The baby moved. You could see
the arm or leg as it moved across her stomach.”
Amy laughed. “Really! Did you feel like your
stomach was an ocean?”
“Oh yeah, like the entire front of me decided to
turn around.”
“Wait until you give birth. After the baby is
born, you can push your hand into your stomach and feel your spinal vertebrae.
The organs move out of the way to make room for the baby, and they slowly move
back into place. It’s kind of cool.” Amy glanced at her son-in-law as he
dropped the spatula. “Michael?”
Maria frowned. Michael looked paled. “I think
he’s going to faint.”
“Oh dear!” Amy pushed Michael’s larger frame
into the chair and pushed his head down. She smiled reassuringly at Maria.
“Some men find birthing a bit squeamish.”
“I’m fine,” Michael said lifting up. “Maybe
I should eat something?”
Amy suddenly went into her special hyperdrive
mothering mode. “Oh, honey. Of course you should eat. I’ll whip you up a few
dozen waffles. You want strawberries and extra whipped cream?”
“Yes.”
“Hey,” Maria’s fork stopped on the way to her
mouth. “I didn’t get extra whipped cream!”
“Honey, finish your breakfast.” Amy ordered as
she placed ready waffles in front of Michael. “By the way, did I tell you that
Sean is coming home?”
“Oh great.” Maria suddenly lost her appetite.
“Stop it. You haven’t seen him since he joined
the Navy.”
“Who joins the Navy when they live in Roswell, New
Mexico?”
“Well he decided the Air Force would be strange
given what he knew about certain people—and you know, UFOs.”
Michael stopped eating for a moment. “Why’s he
coming home? I thought he was still deployed in the Gulf for six more months.”
“He's on leave. So everyone is to be nice.” Amy
smiled at Michael. “Maybe you'll have a nice case and he can help you out.
He’s in the Navy’s investigative service, so he’s really good at that sort
of thing.”
“Bad guy turned Cop—good career choice.”
“I don’t know, you didn’t turn out too bad,”
Amy pointed out.
“Speaking of investigations, did you or did you
not want to know what I learned at Sally’s Emporium of Rotting Fumes?”
Michael nodded while stuffing his face as Amy took a
seat as well. She wasn’t going to miss this. Sally’s was a hotbed of gossip
and only the bravest of the brave ventured inside.
“First, you'll be happy to know that one of their
favorite topics of gossip is one Michael Guerin, and me as well, but since I was
there I couldn’t be sure.”
“Oh, what do they say?”
“That you killed your stepfather, Hank, and
because my mom was dating Sheriff Valenti back then, he let you off.”
“Cows!” Amy said, patting Michael on the hand.
“Don’t let it bother you, Michael.”
Michael shrugged. “It doesn’t. I might not have
killed Hank, but I killed Pierce, and others.”
Maria and Amy shared a look, but they didn’t offer
Michael comfort. He lived with his demons every day, and it wasn’t something
they could shoulder for him.
“Anyway, if you had bothered to go there yourself,
you would’ve given half the room an instant orgasm, the other half a coronary,
and no one—and I mean no one would’ve refused to tell you anything you
wanted to know.”
“Is this your way of telling me to do my own
stinking investigating in the future?”
Maria sniffed, “Well you don’t have to get all
bent, I’m just saying.”
“Maria, the gossip,” Amy prompted.
“Right. First, Markie Calhoun had a boil laced off
his bum, and he is sitting uncomfortably on a donut.”
“Interesting, get to the good stuff.”
“The Wheeler’s are in a legit war of the Roses
on the account that Jenny May turned up pregnant, and being she is only sixteen
and can’t say who the father is. Mrs. Wheeler is demanding Mr. Wheeler shoot
all the sixteen year old boys in her class, and he's refusing.”
“That Jenny always looked to be going a little
wild. Go on!”
Michael ignored his excited mother-in-law. “How
about you get to our case? Patient X?”
“Oh, well there is some other good stuff, like
someone using canned blackberries in the pie bake off instead of the regulation
fresh ones, and Crissy Price was seen doing it in a sixteen-wheeler after bar
hours.”
“No!”
“Maria,” Michael begged.
“Right, hold your horses! I was there for six
hours you know. God, I need to call Liz and see if she lost her beehive.”
“Maria.”
“Okay, okay. Well, I heard there are no less than
seven women currently popping pills—antibiotics during the mid-day socials and
Lady’s Auxiliary meetings. Word is the Wilsons are looking at divorce,
something about Mr. Wilson kicking Mrs. Wilson out of the house, and refusing to
let her see Tony and Charley.”
“Oh! That’s terrible!”
“Maria,” Michael stared at his mother-in-law. He
should’ve waited to ask. Amy was distracting Maria from a straightforward
regaling of the facts.
“Okay, I hear tell it started with the widow
Mulligan. You know how she likes to open her blinds and drapes in nothing but a
see thru nightie? Well seems her exposure worked for her, because she's popping
doxycycline like candy, and Sally’s hairwasher, Bertie, said that she was sore
on her left buttcheek.”
“No! Who else?”
“Well Martha Gardener came in, and they all swear
she is looking—satisfied lately, but she was complaining a little about some
unhealthy discharges, if you know what I mean. They added Mrs. Talbot, Parsons,
and Barker to the bunch. I think they suspect Gillian Weathers, but I don’t
want to spread that around.”
“The mayor! No!” Amy leaned forward. Michael
just shook his head. Why did he have to be here?
“Yes, and none other than Vera Miles was seen
leaving her doctor’s office.”
“Maria, did they say who?” Michael needed this
to end.
“You won’t believe me.”
“Maria.”
“Okay,” Maria held up her hand and her breath in
excitement. “You won’t believe it, but it started with the widow Mulligan.
You know how Mr. Peterson and his dog Teddy walk by everyday?” Amy and Michael
both nodded. “Well—I guess one day, he decided to stop walking by, and Mary
Mulligan goes and tells the women at the Emporium about it, exclaiming over
his—staying prowess, and suddenly Martha is taking him a pie, and little Teddy
some delicious scraps.”
“Mr. Peterson? Gus Peterson—he’s like old!”
“Yeah, well honey, I guess there is hope for us in
our old age, because according to Bertie, Mr. Peterson got himself a nice
prescription of Viagra to help his doodah—and doodah it does! It most
certainly does. Often.”
“You sure about this?”
“That's the scuttlebutt, from the Beauty salon
itself.”
Michael had heard enough. Shoving the last of his
waffle in his mouth, not that he really wanted it with his stomach being all
queasy, he quickly kissed Maria. On his way out the door, he heard Maria telling
Amy, “Now that Michael is gone, I can tell you the good stuff, but first let's
invite Liz over!”
***
Michael could hear Teddy barking on the other side
of the door. He leaned on the buzzer again as he heard Gus Peterson grumbling on
his way to the door.
Gus Peterson was flushed, and his hair was all about
his head in a cloud of disarray, and he was wearing an awful dressing gown.
“What the heck!”
The man paused when he saw Michael Guerin on his
doorstep.
“Gus. I needed to talk to you.”
“Guerin, what? I didn’t lose or find
anything.”
“Gussie, are you coming back?” Edith Butler came
out of a back room in almost nothing but a small towel, and Michael put a hand
over his eyes. Oh god. Old people flesh—he was way too young to contemplate
old people sex. He was sure that Mr. Butler would feel the same way. Oh god help
him, Old man Gus Peterson was a gigolo. Shocking.
“I was asked to find a missing patient of Dr.
Persinsky, and I think I’ve found him.”
“I don’t see no Dr. Persinsky.” Gus looked
back nervously at Edith. “Look, if this is about that little problem—I
don’t see where it bothers me. I got a little bit of a drip, but I’ve been a
little active lately, and no problems getting it around to the gate.”
“Stop it!” Michael just ate breakfast. “Either
you come with me to see Dr. Persinsky right now, of your own free will, or I
will inform him who you are, and they will get a court order through the health
department.”
“Then everyone will know!”
“Five minutes, and I'm leaving.”
“Fine. You damn pups just hate to see an old guy
get a little action. I’m an American, gosh durnit! I pay my taxes!”
***
“Well?” Michael asked when Adam called him a few
hours later.
“Neisseria gonorrhoeae. It was a nice
infection. Hell they barely plated it on nutrient rich agar, and it started
colonizing. There were enough gram-negative intracellular diplococci to float
the Navy.”
“Great. He’s your missing patient, but where did
he get it?”
“Best I can tell, he got a prescription in
Albuquerque over three months ago for Viagra. The stupid fool was practically
freebasing it. More than tripling his dosage. He got a little horny, so he test
drove his new found virility with a hooker in Albuquerque, and been spreading
the fun ever since.”
Michael winced. Hell, he didn’t even want to
imagine it. “Don’t tell me an old geezer like that doesn’t know enough to
use a damn condom.”
“Well his reasoning is that this lady friends are
all past the change in life, those who were not—were on birth control, and
those damn suckers, meaning the condoms not the ladies, pulled his pubes—and
that was a direct quote.”
“Thanks. I’m going to go scrub my brains out.”
Michael went to hang up.
“Listen, what do I owe you?”
“Nothing. Consider it my public duty. Someday, I
might need a favor. It would be nice to know I could come to you.”
“My door is always open.”
“Yeah. I got that.” A doctor that wouldn’t
snitch out his female patients was someone he might want to know later. He never
knew when he might have to further open the ring of trust to include a few
others, and a doctor might not be a bad thing.
That
ended this case, and a sad sick one it was too. I was late getting home, having
taken so much of my day with Gus, the geriatric sex consortium, and Adam. It was
nice to be home. I could smell cooking, and it smelt like Swedish meatballs.
Maria puts something special in them that I really like. I could hear her
upstairs moving about.
Stopping
in the kitchen doorway, I listened to her singing. She was happy.
Breathing
easier, it felt good to have everything in my universe righted, and moving along
lines that I could easily understand. I don’t really want to concern myself
too much with the lives of others, because there is only so much energy I have a
day to give towards emotional baggage, and I rather expend that energy on my own
life—mine and Maria’s.
Today
was disturbing. It was hard to realize that so many of those women being
‘serviced’ by Old Gus and his dog, Teddy, were really only looking for one
thing. They were trying to recapture a part of themselves lost as their youth
faded and time marched on. It is sad, but sadder still for the men in their
lives who are clueless or just don’t get it.
You
can justify a lot of things in life, find excuses, but in the end there has to
be rules and truths. You never lie to someone you love, and love isn’t love
without forgiveness. I know that to be true, because I forgave Maria for the
times she hurt me, and she has forgiven me the same if not more. No one promised
life would be perfect, that it would line up into perfectly matched patterns
with no breaks. I think learning to live through the ugly, and appreciate the
quiet beauty is part of learning to set yourself free from unrealistic
expectations.
I owe
my wife and best friend everything, because she taught me more about life and
love than I would’ve ever learned living my life alone, saving myself and my
heart behind some stonewall. Sometimes, you just have to take chances, and pay
your debts along the way.
I
stood in the kitchen listening to my happy life singing upstairs in the nursery
we built. She was probably putting the children’s books away on the new
shelves. Backing out of the kitchen, I realized that I had an errand to run—I
have a debt to repay.
“Michael?”
“Evening Mr. Parker. I’m sorry to disturb
you.”
“No—not at all. Please, come in.”
Michael nodded to Nancy Parker. She was still a very
young looking woman barely older than Amy, but by a few years.
“This shouldn’t take long.” Michael looked at
the two, and scratched his brow. “I think I found something you lost.”