OUR LIVES, CHAPTER 11: ONE FOR THE ROAD
By The Binary Alchemist 2012
"Careful? Careful my ass!" The hospice nurse cowered in the corner as the old dying woman railed at her. She glanced hopefully at the doctor grinning in the doorway, hoping he would back her up for refusing the old lady's request for a shot of Stray Dog whisky.
"Give her any damn thing she wants. Might as well go out smiling," said Dr. Pitt Renback while his wife Winry's jaw dropped in horror.
"Pitt, you can't mean that!" she gasped. "Granny—"
"—Granny's about to die, girl," Pinako shot back at her granddaughter. "And she's going to go out with a smile on her face or she's not going. I want my pipe, too—and tell Sarah to let the dog in here."
Before Winry could argue her husband kissed her on the forehead. "This is the Pantheress of Resembool," he told her. "I've heard the stories, honey. Last thing I want to do is get on her bad side. She might haunt me."
"Damn right! Glad you got me out of that hospital, boy. At least you've got some sense. Those fools feeding me mush and weak tea, telling me I can't smoke, not letting the little kids come in for fear they'd make me sick. Make me sick? No cure for what I've got, so why keep my great grandchildren away from me?" She frowned at Winry. "You gonna get my pipe?"
After a long moment, Winry nodded. "Promise you won't smoke alone in the room?"
"Afraid I'll kick off and then set the bed afire? All right. I promise. Pitt, where's my bottle?"
"I'll get it—but until Ed and Al and the kids get here, I'm going to do the pouring. No arguments. You raised hell for them to get here and they're on their way from East City right now. I want you sober enough to say hello, okay?"
Winry located the keseru pipe and its battered tobacco box on the whatnot shelf near the old woman's worktable. It was awful, just awful. When the doctor at the hospital told Pinako that she was dying the old woman's behavior became downright disgraceful. Instead of being depressed, Granny's spirits began to rise and she brightened up considerably. Winry misinterpreted this as her grandmother rallying, convinced that the 94-year-old would be back on her feet in no time. "Don't be stupid, Winry. Pack my things—no, don't bother. Nothing I can't leave behind me. Just get me the hell out of here. I miss those green hills and the river. I want the kids around me and a puppy in my lap. I want a good stiff drink and a smoke and something on my plate that doesn't look like it just came out of somebody's diaper. Call Ed and Al—no, give me that damn phone. I'll call Mustang. He'll get their ungrateful asses back home. I want Nina and Maes—I want everybody. This is my going away party for as long as it lasts and I want to make it a good one. Now, get cracking!"
It seemed so wrong. Why was Granny acting like this? Had she lost her mind?
Long, long before she was born, Winry knew her grandmother had, well..a reputation. Every now and again some old timer, usually a man, would talk about her and smile a certain way and say something like 'boy, Miz Pinako…she was something, back in the day…' Winry never inquired to closely—this was Granny, for heaven's sake! She was sedate. Respectable. Sober. Her only vice was her pipe…or was it?
Apparently it wasn't.
When Ed left, Granny had once raised hell at her for calling Ed a pervert for sleeping with Roy Mustang…
"Winry, pay attention. Dick…in…mouth. I've done it. Your mother did it. You've probably done it—"
"—GRANNY!"
"-Garfiel's certainly done it—and now you know Ed's done it too." She made an O with her finger and thumb and rapidly thrust the pipe stem in and out. "Now then: dick…in…ass. I've done it—your mother probably did it—"
"—GRANNY!"
"—well, we didn't have a lot of birth control and you could do that and still technically be a virgin—and from the look on your face I'm guessing you don't know what I'm talking about. I'll bet you don't get the punch lines about Resembool boys helping the sheep over the hedge, either. And the old classic, jerking off. I've done it. I've done it so many times and I'll do it 'til I die. Damn good for what ails ya-
"—GRANNY!"
"I've straddled more cock in my life than you've had hot dinners. And I've gotten drunk in my Pantheress day and found myself in bed with all kinds of congenial people." She blew a cloud of smoke and grinned hugely. "So get that sharp stick out of your self-righteous ass and shut your yap about perverts."
It had been one hell of a slap in the face and she tried not to dwell on the details. Oh, granted, being married to Pitt all these years she certainly had a better understanding of sex and love, but the idea of her grandmother carousing around, getting drunk and being promiscuous made her cringe. And the way she was talking and carrying on now Winry was afraid the next thing the old lady would demand would be an automail dildo-and worse, that Pitt would get her one.
###
"YEEEEOWWWCHHHH!"
The tiny toilet stall on the train to Resembool echoed with the anguished yelps of Jean Havoc as he emptied his bladder. For some reason all those smutty jokes about the clap he'd heard as a cadet started running through his mind:
"What's worse than having your doc tell you you've got the gleet?"
"Having your wife tell you!"
"Yeah, well, do you know the difference between the clap and the common cold? One you get from snatching kisses-"
"She's gonna rip it out by the roots. She's gonna drag me to the rifle range and paint a bulls-eye on my nutsack and-"
"Uncle Jean, you okay in there?" Damn. It was Maes.
"Uhhh…yeah, kid. I'm great."
"You don't sound great. Want me to get Uncle Al?"
Oh, hell no, Havoc panicked. Alphonse was very knowledgeable in Xingese healing but the last thing he wanted was Al's hands on his reddened and infected wang. "No…must have a bladder infection. Get that sometimes. Usta use a catheter when I was wounded years ago. It's okay. I'll get some pills in Resembool."
He zipped up, washed his hands and stepped into the corridor. "All yours."
"Hmmm….judging from that scream I'd guess you've got a dose."
Havoc's ears burned. "Wha…what makes you think I've…g-got…y'know….?"
"Gonorrhea. The clap. The gleet, the drips, the-"
"Hey, shudup, willya?" Havoc was mortified. "I'm not the kind of guy who fools around-"
"—unless it's being waved right in your face." Maes was grinning. "I hear the Ice Cream Blonde is all over you like sparks on alchemy. You got protection?" Havoc looked terrified. "You need protection?" Maes dug into his pocket and Havoc's eyes went wide. "Oh, hell's bells, Uncle Jean! Do you think Uncle Al would trust my dad to teach me about the facts of life? 'Be kind, be considerate, be responsible, be protected—and don't take risks.' Between his advice and those Ishballan sex poetry books I found of Uncle Roy's I'd say I'm set for life."
Havoc shook his head. "And I remember when you were knee high to a hiccup. Now you're off chasing girls—"
"Girls? Hmmmm. Depends on what day it is. Let's say I'm not prejudiced and leave it at that, okay?" The younger man slapped Havoc good naturedly on the shoulder and closed the lavatory door behind him.
###
"He really got you good," Maria Ross observed for what seemed like the hundredth time as she used a damp sponge to dab on an ivory foundation over the layer of concealer she had smoothed over Roy's bruised left eye. Concealer, foundation, eye shadow in a pale shade that made his eye look less livid. "You've got more paint on your face than a Central street hostess—oops. Sorry!" She had momentarily forgotten that Roy had been reared in a house of ill repute and his foster mother was a retired madame.
"Tell that to Aunt Chris. She'll find it amusing." Mustang leaned forward and studied himself up close. His left eye was still a little puffy, but he could open it now. "If anyone asks, it happened in the stable. I got kicked by a colt." Arjuna, at six months, was as skittish as his granddam Cirrocco and was secretly marking tallies on the stall door, Roy suspected, of the stable boys he'd bitten and kicked. Ed referred to him as the M.L.F.—Mean Little Fucker—and only Nina had any real luck handling him. "That's good, Ross. Thank you. Since you're sitting in the box, Collins will take you out to the dress shop. You're being paid to keep me photogenic so this is a work expense. Find something nice to wear—and anything else. Shoes, a handbag, stockings. Collins will take care of it."
Ross was touched. "Thank you, Sir. It's a shame that your family won't be here. I know Nina was so excited about this. You'll be without an escort."
"Actually, no. It may be last notice, but there's only one woman who should be standing by my side tomorrow night. A very, very special lady indeed." From her desk, Hawkeye didn't look up but she stopped writing. Her heart gave a funny ba-bump! under her uniform jacket, that hammered harder when Mustang rose and nodded to her. "Colonel Hawkeye. I would like you to accompany me to Il Gattina—if you have nothing on your schedule."
She shoved a stack of files in her desk drawer and shut it firmly with a bang. "I'm available, Sir."
"Good. You and I have a great deal to discuss."
Some women turned to chocolate. Some turned to men. Some indulged in 'retail therapy' while others just got drunk. When Riza Hawkeye was angry she went to the shooting range, and from the way she was blasting target after target to confetti her old friend and fellow gun enthusiast Rebecca Catalina was more than a little alarmed. "Girl, I don't know what he said to you, but if he turns up dead in the next twelve hours I'd be hard put not to suggest you as the number one suspect."
"I'm not angry." Hawkeye grabbed a pump-action shotgun from the pile of weapons she had checked out and blew another target to dust. "What makes you think I'm angry?"
"Wouldn't you rather go buy some shoes? Maybe get your nails done for tomorrow? After all, you'll be up in the box-"
"-with a scope riffle. In black. Watching his back-and Elycia's." She slapped a button and another line of paper targets swung into her crosshairs.
"Wait—the 'very special lady' he was talking about-that was Elycia Hughes? You gotta be kidding me! That's why he dragged you to Il Gattina, for crying out loud?"
"He asked me to take her shopping—and Gracia too. After all," she gritted her teeth, "they're family."
###
"Throw me a party."
Ed's head jerked back in shock. "WHAT?"
"You heard me the first time." The old lady poked him in the chest with the stem of her pipe. "Throw me a party."
Ed was speechless. Alphonse blinked like he'd been slapped. "We heard you, Granny," he stammered. "We just didn't believe our ears."
The old woman began to cough—a raw sound that must have rattled her scrawny ribcage. She gestured for another shot of Stray Dog. Maes gave it to her.
"Granny," Ed asked carefully, "you're not up to it—"
"That's the whole damn point, Ed. But you are. You, boy, are going to throw a party for me—and you can pick up the tab. You and Al are going to go around town to everybody that knows me—hell, even the people who don't-and call them up here tomorrow night. You are going to light a bonfire in the yard and break out some kegs of cider and beer and whiskey. You're going to find some folks who can play and sing, and I want everybody who isn't dying or dead drunk to kick up their heels and dance, boy. I want it like the old days—before we were a town. Back when we were a village and we'd celebrate Harvest around the bonfires and I would sit back with your old man Hohenheim and match him round for round—back when your mom was still a little kid dancing in her pinafore. And I want people to tell stories about me—yes, damn it, Winry—even the ones you don't want to remember. And this little girl," she pointed her pipe now at Nina," is going to write them down and remember them. Because that's what immortality is, Winry. It's being remembered."
"But-"
"I'll stay out of the chill. Pitt, you move my bed downstairs and put me warm by the fire, but leave the door open wide so I can see 'em dancing and hear the jokes and songs. Shoot off some sky rockets too. Always liked 'em. And if I take a nap and don't wake up, cry if you need to but keep on singing and dancing and drinking."
"Forget it!" Winry's face was flushed with anger. "The very idea—"
"—is a good one." Nina rose from her grandmother's bedside. She looked pale but determined. "Right, Tinker?"
Maes slid his arms around his sister and hugged her fiercely. "Yeah," he sniffed back the tears and managed a smile. "Let's do it right."
Ed and Winry stared at one another. Both of them were horrified at the idea but Pitt and Alphonse were nodding in agreement. Granny, pale and short of breath, looked positively ferocious. "I guess-" Winry sighed.
"—If you're sure-" Ed echoed.
###
In the village, the shopkeepers were astonished. Not only were Miss Winry's oldest kids buying out the shops, but the bills were being paid by none other than President Mustang. "I can at least do this for her," Roy told his daughter over the phone. 'Anything you want or need. I can't be there for you but I can do this for her."
People began knocking on doors, running from house to house, from the foundry to the train station to the farms and in neighboring towns. Old Granny Pinako was saying her farewells and everybody was invited to the party. There wasn't enough time for old friends from Rush Valley or former students from Central to get to Resembool but they all sent telegrams and flowers and phoned to send their love.
Farmer's wives scurried up the hill—now a properly paved road—with covered dishes and cakes while their brawny husbands and sons threw together trestle tables in the yard. Patients at the Rockbell Clinic recovering or preparing for automail surgery and were ambulatory were given rides up the hill and comfortable places to rest inside. Paninya kept the kids entertained and Garfiel donned his best frilly apron and supervised the pot luck preparations. Alphonse strung lights around the property while Ed directed everybody in sight, dashing up the steps every hour to check on Granny. The old bird was smiling, a dog's head in her lap and Winry and Sarah never leaving her side. She could hear the racket downstairs and it pleased her no end.
Maes and his young half brothers drove the old hay wagon around and gave rides to all the folks who couldn't get there, helping—even lifting—the old ones and settling them in cozily, well wrapped with blankets. The house would be space for the elderly and the infants and the automail patients to hold court while the family received guests on the porch and the crowd celebrated on the front lawn.
Right around dusk Winry rang the old dinner gong and called everybody to the front porch. Pitt rolled out a huge keg of freshly pressed hard cider and every glass and mug and cup was filled, Paninya offering jugs of sweet cider for the children and other folk who preferred not to imbibe. When everyone was ready Ed came out with Granny in his arms, warmly wrapped in a blanket but wearing her best dress, long hair neatly combed in her ever-present bun. Maes had rigged up a microphone so the old woman wouldn't strain her voice to be heard.
"Good of everybody to show up for my party….thanks. I….it means a lot to an old lady." There was a slight quaver of emotion—a catch in her voice, but she mastered it. "Good of you to come out tonight. We've got plenty to eat, and enough booze to keep you dancing all night. Enjoy yourselves. I'll be back out for the fireworks once it's dark."
Ed sat on one side with Alphonse and Winry on the other, holding her hands, giving her tiny sips of whiskey. She waved away the food. "I'm fine. I'm just fine, thanks." Pitt offered to load her pipe for her. "That's okay, son. You keep it safe for me." She turned to Ed and smiled a little. "Your missing Roy's birthday."
"He'd rather be here with us," Ed assured her.
"No. He wouldn't." Pinako took a sip from the glass Al offered to her lips. "He woldn't know what to do….wouldn't be able to relax and fit in. Good man—but this isn't something he would understand. Roy Mustang never got to be a kid…never got to be in a family before you two got together. Never learned to do anything but be proper, fight for his country, be an alchemist and protect other people—never could relax with common folk. Poor boy….poor boy…you take care of him, Ed. Teach him how to get drunk and dance under a harvest moon."
Ed nodded. "Alphonse," she turned to his brother now, "I know why you didn't marry Julia Creighton. I know what you gave up, son. You never stopped loving Winry." On the other side of the cot, her granddaughter gasped out loud and turned scarlet. "No, hear me out. Julia's a fine, fine girl. Should have been here tonight. But she'll never leave Milos and you'll never settle down. Being in that armor made you funny, boy—but you've got a loving heart. Grew to be a fine man. If you could have given up your dreams you might have made a good life with Winry but it's not in you. And Winry, you never would have gotten pregnant with Sarah and married Pitt if you hadn't thought Al and Julia would stay together. Are you happy, girl? Any regrets."
Winry thought for a long time in the silence that followed. "I have plenty of regrets." She reached over her grandmother, brushed the hair back from Ed's temple and touched the faded scar where she had hit him the night he left. "I'm sorry for this. I'm sorry I hurt you, Ed."
Ed clasped her hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry we hurt each other. I'm glad we're okay. We don't need to talk about it anymore. It's done."
She offered him a grateful smile. "And….I'm sorry, Al….that you and I…never…That solstice night in Dublith at Izumi's house. Why didn't you say yes?"
Pinako answered for Alphonse. "Because he wanted it too much and knew you'd both be hurt worse if he said yes. He still wants you. You want him. You got a fine husband and a houseful of beautiful children. Pitt would lay down his life for you. Either get it out of your systems and get on with your lives—or walk away from this and leave it. But don't live with regrets. Do what you have to do, but don't let this drag on any longer. And remember-it's easy to get into bed. It's not so easy to climb out of it in the morning and face the wreckage you've made of your life for a night of pleasure. We crave all kinds of things. Not all of them are good for you."
The three of them were all feeling a little sick inside by all this candor, but it was Pinako's right to say these things to them—and she wasn't quite done. "Ed?"
"Ma'am?"
"Don't let Nina grow up to be Roy Mustang. That rock and those words didn't hit her head—it hit her heart. And a year at a royal court didn't do her any favors. That sweet child thinks she's a freak of nature. She's a gift to this world. Help her remember that. And your boy is so brilliant he throws off sparks—trouble is, he does it in all directions. If you can teach that kid to focus on one thing that makes life worth living, he'll do all right. I don't seem him coming back here and following in my footsteps….would've been nice…."
She seemed to drift off for a while, as if talking was tiring her. Outside there was the scrape of a fiddle in the twilight and the sound of clapping hands and the tang of wood smoke in the air that made Edward think of his lover and wish for that cool, confident presence to ease his heartache-
"Where are my skyrockets?"
Al looked up from his own reverie. "What?"
"You promised me skyrockets."
"We were going to wait until-"
"Take me outside, Ed. Get the kids on the porch. We'll watch 'em together."
She weighed nothing. It was as if the chains that bound her to the earth had been released at last and she was feather light in his arms. Everyone made room so Ed could sit on the steps with Granny in his strong arms, turned so she could see the night sky. The thin sliver of a crescent moon had just risen above the mountains. Winry held her grandmother's hand. "You want your pipe, Granny?" she offered.
"No…you keep it now. Always did enjoy a good pipe. A good dog at my feet….Urey runnin' around… Doc warming my bed every night. Good man, but I could drink him under the table. He could nail me right though the mattress, though…guess that's equivalent exchange…."
Alphonse reached down and gently removed her glasses. He folded them very carefully and tucked them into his breast pocket. There was a great wooooshhhh and the sky was painted with a cascade of golden stars.
'Ed?"
"Yeah, Granny?"
"Tricia says…." Her eyes lifted to the night sky and she smiled. "She's fine…..Ed…..she's just….fine…." There was another whoooshhhh and a loud explosion that made the little ones squeal and dance around with their hands held out, wishing they could capture the blossoms of red and green fire, pointing up at a massive single burst trailing fire across the face of the crescent moon.
Edward closed Pinako's eyes. The Pantheress of Resembool slipped away between one breath and another, still smiling. She had ridden the contrails of that last golden comet , and it had carried her soul across the Rain River Valley of Resembool to where Tricia Elric was waiting on the other side to welcome her Home.
….TO BE CONTINUED…..