Heh heh. Yeah, that was an exceedingly long time between postings. Terribly sorry. "...and do pronounce by me lingering perdition, worse than any death could be at once, shall step by step attend you and your ways, whose wraths to guard you from......" Yep, I've been busy:):):)

no one knows what it's like to be the bad man to be the sad man behind blue eyes no one knows what it's like to be hated to be fated to telling only lies but my dreams they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be i have hours only lonely my love is vengeance that's never free no one knows what it's like to feel these feelings like i do and i blame you no one bites back as hard on their anger none of my pain and woe can show through

--"behind blue eyes"

I feel a strange trepidation at returning to the Museum after a month away, but I can't pinpoint the reason. Is it my drastically changed personal life (how on earth will I explain it?) or simply the thought of returning to work, or something else? Nearly five years I've been working at the British Museum, and I am no closer to any of my dreams than I was when I started in the library. I'm a promotional director for the Egyptian wing, but I've seen many coworkers come and go (mainly to more prestigious positions within the Museum or on the Bembridge board). I've given up sending applications to Bembridge. If they wanted me by now, they'd ask. They don't.

I hear the voice of Dr. Mike Herman calling to me from down the hall. He and his wife Sadie work in collections, and they've always been exceedingly nice to me even as others turned away. "Evelyn!" he calls, striding toward me. "We've all missed you so terribly, things are just falling apart around here without you."

"I'm sure they are," I say, kissing him on the cheek. "Don't worry, I'm back to save the day."

"I hear you got married?" he asks, grinning. "Whose the lucky chap? And why wasn't I invited?"

"Oh, we were married in Cairo, just family. It was quite small."

"And sudden!" Mike chuckles. "I had no idea you were heading in that direction. Who is the fellow? Not that administrator whose been following you around lately? Or is it Daniel? He's always had a soft spot for you, you know. Come on, do I even know him?"

"Uh, no. He's from Boston; his name is Rick O'Connell."

"How did you meet then, Mrs. O'Connell?"

I can feel my cheeks reddening. Shouldn't I be over this humiliation, this shame by now? Have I not become as immune as I had thought? "A shared love of Egypt, I suppose," I say, wondering not for the first time how to put this delicately. But what am I to do, hide? "He's Alex's father."

It takes a moment for Mike to react, but he does so gracefully. "Ah," he says, the smile slowly returning to his face. "A happy ending, after all?"

"You could say that."

"Congratulations, Evy. Sadie and I expect the lot of you over at our house for dinner within the week. Is that understood?"

God bless Mike. If only the rest of my friends could take such scandalous news so kindly. "We'd be delighted."

"All right, then." He hands me a folder filled with new acquisition papers. "Courtland Bembridge was promoted while you were away, you know. Dr. Kelland wants to see you in his office."

My heart sinks. Court Bembridge, the bane of every Egyptologist's existence at the British museum. If not for his family connections, I am quite sure the man would be in prison or dead. I can't believe he got another promotion. I've been here three times as long as he has! "Thanks, Mike. Say hello to Sadie for me."

"Will do." Mike leaves me to deal with Dr. Kelland, who seems to have been blinded once again by the title of Bembridge. I make my way to his office, dreading the visit. What could he possibly want to see me about?

Evy would know. But she's been doing this for eight years. Alone, for Christ's sake. I shouldn't be complaining. I'm not complaining, I'm just...frustrated. What is it I'm supposed to do here? How long does this take to figure out? In another eight years, will I have learned some semblance of parenting? Is there some seal of approval or official document to be stamped that will say I have attained the status of good parent?

I'm sitting in the kitchen mulling over my latest parenting mishap when Jonathan walks in. I think he spends more time here than he does at his own apartment. "Good evening," he says cheerily, clapping me on the back. "How's the day?"

I can't believe I'm going to ask Jonathan for advice, but here it goes. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." He sits across the table from me, opening the paper. "My sister driving you up a wall yet?"

"No."

"Give her time." He looks over the edge of the newspaper. "Is something wrong?"

"I yelled at Alex."

He doesn't react. "What'd he do?"

Okay, that's not the response I was expecting. "Well... He was throwing baseball in the house and broke that big tall vase in the foyer. Ramses the second, I believe."

Jonathan nods solemnly. "Punish him yet?"

"I sent him to his room. I wasn't sure what Evy would..."

"That'll be a month grounded, at least." Jonathan goes back to his paper. "Standard procedure for breaking precious artifacts. He should know better."

"Oh. Is it strange that I still feel bad for yelling at him?"

Jonathan laughs. "I can't imagine it would be any worse than getting chewed out by his mother. She can get pretty scary sometimes." He sets down the paper, the set of his eyes more serious. "Look, I know you're still feeling your way around this whole parenting thing. You did good. You just need to train up a bit, and you'll be an ace in no time."

"Do you want kids, Jonathan?"

He sighs, goes back to his paper. "The real question is, what woman on earth would want to have my children? She'd have to be insane. I think I'll stick with the whole uncle thing."

"You're very good at that, you know."

"Get out of here." Jonathan waves the paper at me. "Before you embarrass me."

I leave the kitchen and head to Alex's room. He doesn't answer when I knock so I go in anyway. He's sitting on his bed, back to the door. "Go away," he says, pouting. "I don't want to talk to you."

"That's kind of too bad." I sit on the other side of the bed. "I want to talk to you."

"You can't tell me what to do."

"You're right, I can't. Not even your mother can."

He turns toward me, just a little bit. "Have you met my mother?"

"It's a matter of whether you listen, Alex. It's a matter of whether you respect us enough. Everything we tell you is in your best interest."

"That doesn't mean I have to do what you say. We did fine without you before."

Ouch. "Are you sorry I'm here, then?"

He doesn't answer for a minute. I wish I could see his face. "Maybe."

Okay, Rick, pull out your magical parenting skills. It's all about the reverse psychology. "You know, I never really knew my parents. They died when I was eight."

He shifts just a little bit toward me. "Where did you grow up, then?"

"Orphanage."

"Sorry." I can see him thinking through this. "So I don't have any grandparents, then?"

"No. You would have liked them, though. My mom always used to have peppermints in her pocket, and she would always sing us to sleep." Strange, what one remembers after all this time. Why am I even talking about this?

"What was your dad like?"

"Well, he was very tall, I remember that. He smoked cigars, and he had a gray mustache."

"You know," says Alex, actually looking at me, "I'm glad you're not dead."

"Thanks. So am I."

"Are you going to tell Mum about the vase?"

"Don't you think she'd figure it out, anyway?"

He thinks about this for a minute. "Can I tell her? Before you do?"

"Yes. I think that would be very grown up of you."

We hear the front door slam, and I see Alex jump. "I should go tell her before she sees it."

"You better hurry, then, she's already inside."

Alex jumps off his bed and runs to receive news of his fate. I follow him, hear him begin his explanation/apology, but then he stops short. "Is something wrong, Mum?" he asks, and she doesn't answer.

I enter the foyer to see her leaned against the door, looking blankly at the floor space where the vase once stood. She sees me, and blinks.

"I got fired."

~*~*~*~

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