AN: SOrry, this is a bit different than the original. Long story. Don't ask. I am still mad.

MICHAEL:

I had to admit my disappointment that my invitation to the Weezer concert was rejected so easily. I mean, it's been AGES since they've toured.

"What's wrong?" Lilly asked.

"Nothing."

"Pissed 'cuz she said no to the concert? Yes, I overheard you."
"I thought she'd like it, that's all."

"Her dad is really strict. Plus, you would have to deal with her bodyguard and everything. You don't like being around big men, they give you an inferiority complex."

That was true. Then again, she tended to believe that everyone had an inferiority complex.

"Lilly, Michael, this isn't a normal family meeting," Dad started

"Right," Mom continued.

"Are you preggers or something?" Lilly asked nervously. "Dad, can't you just keep it in your pants?"

Dad laughed. "No. I mean, we're not having a baby."

"Quite the opposite actually," Mom replied.

"Going through the change?" I guessed. "As in being unable to have more kids? So what?"

"Thanks for sharing, but we don't need to know about menopause," Lilly started. "Although it's nice to know where the mood swings came from-"

"No, we have been talking a lot lately and have decided on a trial separation," Mom replied.

My jaw dropped. I looked at my sister for her response.

"Oh, good," Lilly said with a sigh.

"Wait, why? How did this all happen?" I demanded. How was everyone okay with this? Was this not coming from left field?

"Michael, trust us, it's for the best," Dad replied. "We just… aren't compatible anymore."

"Right, we have far too much in common," Mom said with some bitterness.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked. "I mean, it's worked for what, twenty two years now."

"No. We both enjoy the sexual company of men," Mom replied.

Okay. Gross. I like to see myself as an enlightened individual, but no. My mom should never discuss her sexual preferences.

But my DAD?

The man that showed me how to ride my bike? The man that tried and tried to get me to watch the Jets with him on Sunday afternoons? The man that explained why I had hair in strange places? The man that had taken my porn (that I got from my old friend Felix) away when I was fourteen? I mean, I had always secretly thought he stole it to look at it for his own enjoyment. Apparently not.

He'd bathed me as a child. Told me it was okay to play with Barbie dolls (uh, not that I ever did or anything. I just liked taking her clothes off cuz I'm a manly man).

I looked at my father. Why hadn't I seen it? The pink shirts (that Dad claimed were salmon, not pink). Argyle socks. Manicured fingernails. Waxed eyebrows. Wonderfully styled hair. Most men his age wore suits with white shirts and blue ties. Not ties with little roses on them. They didn't shop at the local PINK store. They didn't say 'Fabulous' or watch Hope Floats.

"That's disgusting," Lilly said finally. "I mean, Dad, if you are gay how could you produce two children with Mom like you did? Wouldn't you be totally grossed out?"

Dad took Mom's hand. "She had been very supportive, albeit her own pain and anguish. But I have met someone. His name is Ned-"

"He's only two years older than Michael," Mom informed us, pulling her hand away quickly. Great.

"Lilly, things don't occur over night. This took time. It was always in me but….do you have any other questions?" Dad was clearly pissed that Mom told us his age. "Michael, are you okay?"

I glared at him.

"It's not healthy to repress your feelings. I should know I have for-"

"Shut up Sidney. Let him be. He's a grown boy already."

"Who's moving out?" Lilly demanded.

I slunked back into my chair. I wished this was that happy meeting we had two years ago before I left for college.

"Your father is moving in with Ned, the drummer," Mom replied softly.

"Allie, I was going to tell them about that later," Dad said softly.

A drummer? Did I know this guy? Did I jam with him right before he went on a romantic tryst with my dad?

"Sorry. Didn't think you would care anymore. You clearly don't care about the family…."

I looked at my sister, "Are they always like this?" I was hardly ever home. I usually stayed at Serena's

"Worse. Trust me, this is a good deal we're getting."

No it wasn't. I grabbed his coat from the hook by the front door and stormed out. Serena was working right now as a nurse's aid. There was this old lady that was dying over on Madison. Serena was supposed to sit with her while the husband went to play golf or to see his mistresses in Jersey.

I remembered the flowers, bought a bundle from a street vender before I ran into the apartment building. Maybe if the lady was sleeping we could screw around. The lady couldn't talk anyways because of her stroke. Totally immobile. Who would she tell anyways?

The door was open. I hated when Serena left doors open. She was too trusting. I walked through the apartment. There were her keys on the kitchen counter. No maid buzzing around like Serena had told me about. No one.

I thought he heard some noise from the end of the hall. I slowly made my way to the room. Maybe the old lady kicked the bucket and the EMT's were in there taking her away. I opened the door and saw something else though.

MIA:

I waited patiently for Napoleon to call that night. We were going to the ice rink that night after he finished at the gym. Instead I flipped through the channels and settled on Midwest Obbession on Lifetime. Jason was always late (his last name is Napoleon). He loved me, I knew that much. But he was always with his friends and focusing on sports.

I am not a sports person. I'm more into Yoga. Tae bo. No running or extreme physical activity. I liked writing. I was poised to take the editorship next year as a senior. And I had fallen in love with the guitar last year. So it's not like I'm always sitting around waiting for Napoleon to call me. I had my own things going on.

The most physical activity I did, was making out with Napoleon. And that may go to the next level.

It had been two years. Dad already thought I was sleeping with Nap. Ever since we snuck off to Vermont last year with his friends. Dad assumed that it was to a love nest where they had sex all weekend.

But it hadn't even been brought up yet at that point. We skied. Or he did, I sat in the lodge and read and wrote in my journal. Never about Napoleon. All about her guitar lessons with Michael.

Back then I always wrote about him. I thought I was in love, but unless you can tell that person, it's not really love. It's lust. Napoleon was real.

The phone rang, "Howie?" I asked, not looking at the caller ID.

"No, it's Lilly. My parents are separating."

"They're what?" I snapped. She said this so matter of factly I didn't believe it. I knew they'd been having trouble, that's why Lilly was always over my house. "Why?"

"My dad has gone for the other team totally. He has a boyfriend named Ned. Ned! Can't you believe it? They've totally scarred that name for me. Isn't that whack?"

I nodded, forgetting she couldn't see me. Dr. Moscovitz was gay? "Do you want to come over? James Dean is on TNT." Oh God. She probably doesn't want to see another gay man. I mean, an alleged gay man. "Or we can watch Dirty Dancing."

"Nah. I'm hanging out here tonight. You know, for my mom and stuff. She's pretty upset. Michael's gone AWOL. So he's no help, big shock."

"Gone to see Serena?"

"Yeah."

"Wench."

"Agreed. Wanna come over?"

I felt bad. I had plans with Napoleon. "Um, sure. Want me to bring over some dim sum?"

"And all the crappy food you can," Lilly replied. "We can share with my mom."

"Okay. Let me just call and tell Napoleon."

"Oh, you had plans already?"

"Lilly, you are a billion times more important than he is. Trust."