The Human Condition

Chapter Two

The alarm went off for the third and last time. If I hit the snooze again it would automatically shut itself off. I had the choice of resetting it completely or getting up. I swore softly and sat upright.

Joe didn't move a muscle. It was amazing to me that he never heard the buzz that damn clock made. Especially, when he always seemed to manage to wake up on time whenever I wasn't around. I looked at him. Yep, still sleeping like a baby. That is, if the baby in question looked like a matinee idol.

A breeze from the open window tugged at the curtain. The movement caught my eye and I watched the material billow and catch on the frame of a picture of us taken almost three years ago to the day. God, had it really been that long? At thirty-three, I was becoming increasingly aware of the speed at which my days seemed to move. But, I sighed contentedly, they were full days and rich with the life I had been so fortunate to have been given.

I looked back at my sleeping lover. The movement of the curtain had allowed a shaft of sunlight to enter the room. It fell over Joe's body, but he was still oblivious. I traced the play of light and shadow on the planes of his face with my eyes. His morning beard gleamed gold on his tanned skin. His lips were red and slightly swollen from our early morning lovemaking, parted just enough to show the hint of very white teeth. His lids were closed and hid those bright blue eyes I loved so much, but there was movement under the skin. I hoped the dream was of me.

Carefully, I slipped from between the silk sheets I'd made so much fun of when my sister had given them to us the previous Christmas. I wondered now if she could ever imagine the pleasure we'd found in them. The thought made me grin. Knowing Sarah, she probably had a half a dozen sets herself and was well aware what a turn on they were.

I stood and stretched, lazy and naked. The wind blew again through the window and the drape shook rattling the frame of the picture that had captured it. I went to the wall and carefully untangled the curtain. After a moment's consideration, I removed the picture from the nail and placed it carefully on the dresser. Some memories are so important that extra precautions should be used to protect them.

Joe stirred and murmured on the bed. I looked back at him. His eyes were open but he looked as if he were still wavering between sleep and full consciousness.

His eyes shifted as he took in my state of undress.

"Mmmm," he said softly. "You're wearing my favorite outfit."

I laughed.

"Come back to bed," he patted the covers invitingly.

"Nope. It's 8:30. Time to start the day. Get up."

"Aw come on Dad," he smiled a sleepy smile. "Just five more minutes."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew I wasn't going to push it.

"Okay, I'll take my shower first, but then you've got to get moving."

"You're a real nag sometimes, you know that?" Joe rolled over on his side and grimaced.

But I noticed as I headed to the bathroom that he'd grabbed my pillow and was breathing in my scent. A wave of tenderness washed over me and it left me breathless and I leaned into the doorframe remembering.

We had been together over 10 years now, and the day-to-day grind had taken its toll as it does on all couples. There were periods when we took each other for granted, others when we bickered and even days where we couldn't stand the sight of each other.

But then, there were moments like now. When my heart would race because I'd heard his key in the lock. When he'd follow me from room to room as if he couldn't bear to be out of my sight. When our bodies demanded the touch of the only person who could truly satisfy them. These were the moments we cherished. The memories they created saw us through the bad times.

It seems impossible to me now that I ever doubted this man I love so dearly. But it was true. And once, for a couple of very painful days, I didn't believe we could even be friends...

Thanksgiving Day, 1985

I hadn't slept the night before or the night before that. All I could think of was Joe's face as he'd looked at me for the last time. I tried to tell myself it was just as well that our friendship was over. It would've caused nothing but problems for both of us. You can imagine how well that worked. By turkey morning, I was having a full-blown pity party.

Sandy, one of the nurses, came in and gave me a bath. She droned on and on about Thanksgiving and what a shame it was that I had to spend it here. I wanted to strangle her. Talk about a lousy bedside manner. Finally, to save her life, I ordered her out of the room. As she left, I could swear I heard her laughing. I'd never realized what a bitch she could be!

I dozed, ate, read, but I was restless. The day stretched ahead endlessly. Because it was a holiday, there wouldn't be any treatments or physical therapy. I hated that stuff, trust me, but at least it had been giving some definition to my days. I didn't even have a roommate. I'd been moved out of the Burn Unit a few days before and into a semi, but with the holiday everybody who could possibly be discharged had gone home.

I flipped on the TV. There was a parade on every channel. I knew there'd be some games on later, but for obvious reasons, I wasn't really up for football. I put on a robe and went out in the hall but there wasn't anybody around. The patients who'd stayed were generally too sick to be mobile and the nurses must have been with them.

I was only here because I had fresh skin grafts that needed tending. My burns had been, for the most part, superficial; all except my right hand. At first, there'd been a possibility I'd lose it, but with excellent care, and an amazing amount of luck, it looked like it would heal with only minimal loss of function. I'd need additional surgery down the road, but the doctors were optimistic. I guess it's amazing how well the recuperative process works in a healthy 18 year old.

If my family had been close enough, my doctor would probably have even let me go home for the day. And I had to admit that even though I wasn't on the greatest terms with the parental units, it would have been better than being stuck here.

I went back to my room. I thought about beating off. I'd been able to manage that again in the last few days, but my burns still hurt and I had to be really horny to be willing to put up with the discomfort. With a sigh I lay back down and closed my eyes.

I must have slept. I opened my eyes to the sound of a commotion in the hallway. Must be some emergency, I thought groggily. I glanced at the clock, 1 PM. Oh God; this day was never going to end.

My door flung open and my 7-year-old brother, Rob, catapulted into the room.

"Surprise!" He screamed as he threw himself on the bed.

I looked past him to see the rest of my family and what looked like the entire staff of the hospital, including Sandy the bitch, standing in my doorway. Everybody had these huge grins on their faces as they took in the look of shock on my own mug.

"What?" My father boomed. "You really thought we were going to let you spend Thanksgiving alone?"

I started to cry. I couldn't help it. All the loneliness and hurt I thought I'd buried, erupted. Intellectually, I knew my parents still loved me, but it had been a long time since I'd felt emotionally connected to my family. It had never occurred to me they'd really want to be with me today, but here they were. I buried my face in my pillow as my shoulders started to shake.

The room got suddenly silent and I felt Rob slide from the bed only to have his weight replaced with a heavier, softer body whose scent I've known since the day I was born. My mother's warm hands rubbed my back until I turned. She pulled me to her and stroked my hair as I continued to cry, soaking her blouse.

"Shh baby," she crooned. "Mom's here now, and everything is going to be okay."

Damned if I didn't believe her. It took me a few minutes to compose myself though I saw no reason to take my head away from the comfort of her breast. We sat there in silence, tied together in that unfathomable bond mothers have had with their children since Adam and Eve had their first kid.

"Where'd everybody else go?" I finally said.

"Down to the car, to get dinner," she replied matter of factly.

"What?" I lifted my head. "Don't tell me you hauled a turkey from Pennsylvania?"

"Of course," Mom said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Your dad went over to Mr. Schwartz's. You know him; he has that catering business. He and your dad have become such good friends after that business at the lodge..."

"Mom!" She has a tendency to get off the subject. "You're doing it again."

"Okay, your father borrowed some of those containers that keep food hot or cold and yesterday I cooked and we loaded them up and after your dad got home we just hopped in the car and here we are."

My father has his own hardware store and he always works 8-7, five days a week, with an extra 5 on Saturdays for good measure. That meant, that after an 11-hour day, he'd been willing to get in a car and drive all the way to Michigan to see me. I couldn't believe it.

"We stopped in Ohio for the night but your father made everybody get up at 5 AM to get back on the road," she laughed. "I don't think Sarah is ever going to forgive him." My 14 year old, sister was, and still is for that matter, a famous bed hound.

"I can't believe you did this," I spoke the words carelessly, but at the sound of them my mother's soft stroking of my back stilled.

"I wish it wasn't so hard for you to understand," she said sadly.

"Well Hell," my father's voice boomed from the doorway. "This looks just like an episode of The Walton's I saw once."

I reluctantly sat up and smiled at him. "Hey Dad."

Like I said before, I got my olive coloring and build from my old man but I'm a good five inches taller and he's ten pounds heavier. His hair is still black and curly though, with only a little bit of silver at the edges. His face is big and open with droopy brown eyes and a cute pug nose that looks kinda silly on such a big tough Italian stallion. The family name was originally Rossetti, until my grandfather decided if we were going to live in America we needed an American name, as if there were such a thing.

The Zimmerman's, my mom's family, are like almost everybody else in our small town, of German descent. They are narrow faced with hooded eyes and lipless mouths. I inherited the first two features but not the last, thank god. My mom is a shorter softer version of her family's ancestry. But she is saved from their normal severity by her mouth, a gift from her mother. It is wide and lush and she was kind enough to pass it on to me.

My siblings, Sarah, Rob and eleven year old, Andy are an unmatched mix of the two families. Sarah is blonde, Rob is dark and Andy has red hair, though God knows where that came from. None of us really match each other but when you get us all together, you can definitely see we're related.

As I was mulling over genetic traits, the rest of my family had poured back in the room depositing boxes of food on every available surface and were now trying to make a makeshift table out of the spare bed. God knows; if the mattress was as hard as the one I was lying on, it could work. I missed the burn unit's waterbeds.

A few minutes later we were all standing around the "table" with me wrapped in a sheet, toga style, while my father prepared to say grace.

"Dear Lord..." He cleared his throat and started again.

"Dear Lord, Thank you for this amazing bounty we are about to share. Thank you even more for the opportunity you have given us to reunite once again. Today we celebrate the strength and love we will always have as long as we remember that anywhere we can be together is enough to make a place home. And we pray that you never let us forget that being part of a family is the greatest blessing in life. Amen."

For my Dad, that was quite a speech. My eyes filled again. My mother leaned across the makeshift table and stroked my arm. Sarah and the boys looked embarrassed and my father looked at me critically. For a long moment, nobody knew what to say.

"Hell son," my Dad finally broke the silence. "I'd die for you. In comparison to that, coming to Michigan was relatively easy!"

Everybody laughed and suddenly it was like the last couple years faded into the past. I was a part of this family, Dammit! I told them about school, they filled me in on all the gossip from town, I teased Sarah, about her new boyfriend and Andy about Mandy Finkbinder, who'd, had a crush on him from the first day of kindergarten. Through it all, we stuffed ourselves until Dad undid his pants and only Rob was interested in what was for dessert.

Dad and Sarah went out to get us some coffee, taking a couple of shoofly pies with them for the nurses. The rest of us tried to clear up some of the mess.

Rob found a can of whipped cream in one of the bags and proceeded to squirt it in his mouth, his cheeks getting bigger and bigger until the foam started to leak out making him look like a rabid dog. Andy tried to grab the can and Rob shot him with a thick stream of the stuff and hit him right between the eyes. Andy tackled him and my mother started bitching and I was laughing when the phone rang.

I picked up the receiver and shouted into it to make myself heard over the screaming. "Yeah?" There was silence on the other end of the phone, or maybe I just wasn't able to hear because of the noise.

I covered the mouthpiece with my hand. "Hey, shut up you morons." I yelled at my brothers. "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"

They quieted down to a dull roar and I went back to my mystery caller. "Sorry about that," I said, "a pack of wild animals invaded my room and I can't find my whip or gun."

"Mike?" I got suddenly very still as I recognized the voice on the other end of the phone.

My mother stopped trying to pry my brothers apart and looked at me strangely.

"Hi Joe." I finally managed to croak out.

Instantly, my brothers forgot about trying to kill each other and ran to my side.

"Is that Joe Lassiter?" Andy asked me. "Let me say hi to him."

"You talked to him last time!" Rob whined. "It's my turn."

"Why would he want to talk to a little kid like you?" Andy asked him scornfully.

My mother came over and grabbed both boys and hustled them off to the other side of the room.

I was only dimly aware of any of this, you understand. My whole being was concentrated on what the man on the other side of the phone was saying. Unfortunately it wasn't much.

"Happy Thanksgiving." Joe sounded stiff.

"Thanks dude." I replied eagerly. I was so happy to hear his voice. I was like some wiggly puppy hearing his master's voice. If I'd had a tail I think I'd have wagged it. "Same to you."

"Er, thanks." He said still sounding unsure of himself.

My imaginary tail stopped waiving. "I'm glad you called." I said quietly, aware now that the room around me had quieted and I had an avid audience.

"Yeah, well, my family is here and they were wondering how the surprise went," he went on in a dull tone.

His family, I thought. Of course, Joe had told his family about me before our fight. Naturally, they'd ask him about me now. I imagined he'd decided it would be better to not tell them about my confession and pretend we were still friends. Later, he could just say that we'd drifted apart after I'd gotten better.

The imaginary tail, was now firmly between my legs.

"So how was it?"

It took me a moment to have his question sink in. "You knew!"

I finally dawned on me that of course Joe would know about my parent's decision to spend Thanksgiving here. Hell, he'd probably orchestrated the whole thing.

"Your dad called me last week. Asked for the name of a motel," he explained.

"You never said a thing."

"That's why it's called a surprise," some of the bounce had come back in his voice. I think he noticed too because he pulled back. "So was it a good one?" Once again his tone was flat.

I looked at my brothers grinning at me; Mom holding on to their collars to keep them by her side. Dad had come back and was leaning in the doorway balancing cups of coffee. Sarah stood beside him, practicing looking cool.

"Yeah," I said softly, "it was a good one."

My mom let go of my brothers and they shot across room, but she was right behind them. She lifted her hand above their heads and tapped my arm.

"Give me that phone." She whispered urgently and I did as she ordered.

"Joe, this is Susan Ross," she listened for a moment, a grin lighting up her face. "Well the same to you young man. Listen, I just wanted to thank you for all the trouble you've gone through for us. It makes me feel so much better to know that Michael has such a good friend when he's so far from home. I hope some day we can meet, so I can thank you properly."

I could feel my face flush. Like that was ever going to happen. Joe was too nice a guy to tell my mother how he really felt about me, but I knew there was no way he'd ever be meeting her.

"Now I hope you don't mind," my mother continued. "But there are a couple of football crazy boys here who'd like to say hi to you."

"Mom!" Andy and Rob both moaned in mutual mortification, but when she handed the receiver to them their enthusiasm overcame their humiliation. As they took turns talking, Mom grabbed my hand and walked me over to the window.

"When we decided to surprise you, your Dad called Joe to get a recommendation for a motel. Joe said he'd get back to him, but when he did he said he had a friend, a girl, who was going to be out of town for the holidays and was willing to let us use her apartment."

"Betsy?" I guessed.

"That's right," she looked pleased. "You know her too?"

"She's a nurse here and..."

Mom cut me off with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, she sent us the key so we're staying there tonight and after we stop in to see you in the morning we'll head on back home." Her bottom lip quivered. "I wish we could stay longer."

I gathered her into my arms awkwardly. It hurt my burns, but it felt so good otherwise. "I wish you could too." I kissed her on the cheek. "But Christmas is only a month away and I'll be home then." I never knew those words could sound so wonderful.

She leaned back and poked me in the shoulder. "You better be."

I smiled at her and gave her an extra squeeze, then I looked over to where my Dad was now taking a turn on the phone. I wanted to talk to Joe again, but I was afraid to at the same time. I listened to my father's voice.

"Just so long as you kick those Buckeye's asses. I can't stand those bastards!"

He looked at my little sister and covered the receiver. "Sarah, do you want to say hi?"

She shook her head so hard I thought she was going to dislocate her neck. "Oh my God Dad!" Her voice was horrified at even the suggestion that she would do anything that uncool.

But I could tell though that she was dying to talk to the gorgeous quarterback and I had to pretend to cough to cover my laugh.

My dad shrugged and turned back to the phone. "There's someone else in the room who'd love to talk to you, but she's pretending she's shy."

Sarah groaned and ran from the room. Dad looked at me and winked. "Uh huh, well I'll be sure and tell her that, if I can ever get her out of whatever bathroom she's locked herself into."

He listened to something on the other end of the phone and laughed. "You're right, torturing your children is one of the perks of parenthood." He started to waive me over, then held up his hand to stop me.

"Oh you have to go? Sure, I understand, I'll tell him goodbye for you. And thanks again son," he hung up the phone and looked at me. "His family was getting ready sit down to eat. He said to tell you goodbye."