Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I do better things with them than CBS does, anyway...

Chapter 3: September 1986

Feeling Old.

I really don't feel like I'm in my thirties now. That's what a co-worker said today, when I said I didn't feel like grabbing a drink after work. "Hey, I get it. You're in your thirties now, right?" And he had laughed.

I remember sitting in front of my cockroaches for several minutes, considering his words. I didn't feel like I was getting old… I wouldn't have gone out tonight when I was 25, would I? I was tired and…

So it was not five minutes after getting off work that I was on the phone, calling Laura. She answered "Hello?" and I was happy to hear her voice.

"Hey, Laura, sorry it's such short notice… I'm just getting off work, thought I'd call and see if you and Amber wanted to catch dinner."

"Yeah, that'd be great, Gil. We haven't even thought about dinner yet… it's been such a hectic day. Listen, uh, when d'you think you'll be over for us?"

"A little over an hour, I'm still at work. Does that work for you?"

"Absolutely. We'll see you then, Gil."

There. I wasn't old. I was going out with my girlfriend… and her three year old. But Amber was the sweetest little girl you could ever meet—her mom's long strawberry blond sheet of hair trailing behind her as she skipped from place to place. Her dad was a dead beat, couldn't be relied upon to pay any child support, but she was bright and funny and energetic. I questioned myself, once or twice, if I would have continued asking Laura to dinner if it hadn't been for Amber… she was icing on the cake, but everyone knows that icing is the best part.

Maybe I am getting old… feeling old. I'm thirty and yet I've never been in love… I've spent my whole life dedicated to my science. There's a beautiful woman in Chicago who I couldn't love enough, and a beautiful woman in Minneapolis whose daughter is more appealing to me than she is—I would rather be Amber's father than Laura's husband.

I sigh, and make my way home, dressing for dinner and arriving at their apartment just over an hour later—perfect timing. Dinner is great, and it's so exciting to hear about Amber's day that I forget that Laura told me hers has been hectic. When we finally get back to their apartment, Laura goes to tuck Amber in, though I wish I could accompany the pair of them, and I make coffee instead. We sit, and I can tell she's glad to have a moment alone. I try to tell myself I feel the same way, and she asks about my day.

I never go into details… she was alarmed when she found out my expertise was in insects, and positively petrified to find out how many dead bodies I'd touched that day… I figured she didn't need specifics, but I explained our case load as much as I could and then inquired about her day. It was only moments before I had scooted closer to give her a back rub—she needed it after the day she'd had.

Another teacher had called in sick, and they were short on subs as it was, so she'd taken half of the other class for a day and had to teach using two lesson plans. There were too many kids, legally, in the room, and it threw off the day's schedule, which is about all that keeps kids from being crazy—they have order and consistency in a schedule. Lots of kids don't deal well with change. A little boy also broke his arm on the playground, so she'd gotten a twenty minute screaming at from his mother when they spoke, three children had decided to eat glue, hardly anyone had napped because there were too many kids in the room, and so she'd had to deal with about ten tantrums from the end of nap 'til the end of the day.

She sighed heavily, leaning back against me as I kneaded out the knots I found there. I enjoyed the contact with her, and bent my head lower, kissing along her neck as my hands moved to wring knots out from below her shoulder blades. She moaned softly, whether from my kisses or my hands, I'm not sure, but that was my undoing. I turned her head softly and planted a gentle kiss to her lips, letting it slowly deepen and become fiercer. She was breathing heavily as she ran her fingers over my face and into my hair, and then we were lying on the couch, devouring each other in kisses and breathing erratically.

"Bed—Bedroom?" She gasped out, and though it had not been my intention, I did not argue—I wanted it too. The heat was flashing like fire through my body already.

It was only moments before we dragged ourselves up and into the room. Once clothing had fallen away, however, I hesitated. "Wait… Laura, wait, wait. ...Amber."

Her tongue dragged down my chest and I lost my train of thought. "She sleeps like the dead… just don't be too loud." My breath hitched in my throat as she came back up to me, one hand wrapping around me, kissing me and then finally straddling me.

"Laura… I… we… protection." I gasped out, between moans, trying desperately to be responsible.

"I'm on the pill. Now… are you going to fuck me or not?"

My resolve was broken in a four-letter rush of ecstasy, and I took her quickly and without further hesitation… but I was nearly silent the entire time. I didn't want Amber to hear us, no matter how deeply she slept.

My birthday. Whoop-de-freaking-do.

They didn't remember, which was a blessing in disguise, I suppose, because I was able to stay at home. I slept in, pretending to be sick, and around noon she asked me if I wanted some chicken soup. Marlene was decent, even if Jim was a little gruff sometimes, so I obligingly padded out in my pajamas and ate the soup. I must have looked sick, because she clucked her tongue and sent me back to bed when I had finished, telling me I needed my rest. I really wasn't tired though, so I dragged a library book out from its hiding place under my mattress and started to read—Romeo and Juliet.

I had read and loved Hamlet, so I figured I would give this one a shot. I had been a little disappointed, when I first started reading it. This love-at-first-sight bullshit was irritating. They sounded more like two horny teenagers who had never defied their parents and let their hormones mix with the un-indulged rebelliousness in their teenage brains, and ended up pissing a lot of people off. It was romantic, I supposed, that they gave up everything to be together… but I couldn't help but doubt the trueness of their love. Maybe they sacrificed everything for a crush and a good lay and, had they survived the ordeal, would have gotten divorced. Maybe he would have started sleeping around, maybe she would have started drinking…

I put the book away, knowing that I need to divert this train of thought if I don't want to have nightmares again tonight. Jim gets frustrated when my screams wake him up, and I'd like to stay with the same family for more than a few months… I learned, after leaving Don and Mary, that it can always get worse. I was content to stay here, as long as I didn't end up somewhere worse.

I had pretended to be sick today, so I would have to wait until tomorrow to tell Marlene and Jim that Chucky Cheese had hired me to do dishes and work the ticket counter. I had offhandedly mentioned getting a job about a month ago, and they hadn't seemed like they would be upset. I would just have to hope… and hope that they let me keep the money. I hadn't thought they wouldn't, but there was a girl in my last home who kept getting mad at our parents because they would take the money she earned, saying it was their right. Technically, parents could do that… maybe I'd have to hide my money, or open a bank account. I didn't know how I'd do that without putting one of their names on it, but I'd figure something out… I would have to.

I rolled over in bed, looking at the old alarm clock I'd been given to use for my early mornings. It was after 3:00… school would be out by now. I wonder idly whether one of the girls in my science class will bring my homework over and silently hope that no one thinks to be that considerate. I don't like to advertise my living situation and they would only know even what part of town I live in because I have to ride the bus to school. They probably won't, I decide, feeling my eyes start to droop again. Maybe I am getting sick, I'm tired again…

The homecoming dance is coming up next month. Though I think I scare most of the guys I go to school with, a few in random classes have been flirting with me, asking if I'm going to the homecoming game and the tailgate… I had to prevent myself from laughing at that suggestion, but it got me thinking. I couldn't really accept an invitation to the dance, where would I get a dress? …I'd have to avoid the subject like the plague, because if somebody really cute asked me, I would feel horrible having to tell them no. They'd probably never ask me out again… and despite my attempt at a tough exterior, I did want a boyfriend… I wanted to feel pretty and wanted and admired.

I scoff into my pillow, as sleep is slowly creeping over me. I probably don't have anything to worry about; I don't think anyone will ask me anyway. Well, this is what fifteen feels like… I still don't feel fifteen. I feel eighty. I feel a hundred. I feel so tired.