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[Patroclus was tired. Having realised that his relationship with his cousin (with Troilus of Troy and there was no point ignoring that stark truth) was irreparable and having endured a painful time at the party (a zombie-psychiatrist with a taste for brains; perhaps he'd look back and laugh someday), he thought he might do something to cheer himself up.
He went to Arizona to visit his wife and children. It was not all he hoped it would be. Sasha and Mishka were delighted to see him, his little boys throwing themselves at his legs and asking for presents in that artless way of children who have no idea that Mummy and Daddy are fighting again. (Of course, Patroclus was unaware that Mummy and Daddy were fighting until Alan appeared. Alan who had apparently moved into the family home and who called Patroclus' sons Alex and Mikey. Alan who implied that no one expected Patroclus to visit and so he was not welcome.)
He stayed in a motel (cheap; fleabag) because he couldn't afford better accommodation. He spent afternoons with his sons until he had to return to the empty apartment in New York.
Patroclus was bewildered. He was a man so loyal that he could not understand how it was that he commanded no loyalty in return. He missed Achilles, fiercely, and Briseis, too. He missed his wife and he missed his sons, though his phone was full of photos of them, smiling and happy and so far away. He missed his cousin.
Patroclus didn't know what to do.]
Vova, I need you-
It is good to see that people are returning to normal or, at least, trying to. One of my patients informed me that it was forty-three shopping days till Christmas. I think I'd prefer to focus on the other meaning of today. I was educated in England so I suppose I'll refer to it as Armistice Day and spare a moment for those who have died in war. (Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn and am I too old to re-train as a soldier?)
He went to Arizona to visit his wife and children. It was not all he hoped it would be. Sasha and Mishka were delighted to see him, his little boys throwing themselves at his legs and asking for presents in that artless way of children who have no idea that Mummy and Daddy are fighting again. (Of course, Patroclus was unaware that Mummy and Daddy were fighting until Alan appeared. Alan who had apparently moved into the family home and who called Patroclus' sons Alex and Mikey. Alan who implied that no one expected Patroclus to visit and so he was not welcome.)
He stayed in a motel (cheap; fleabag) because he couldn't afford better accommodation. He spent afternoons with his sons until he had to return to the empty apartment in New York.
Patroclus was bewildered. He was a man so loyal that he could not understand how it was that he commanded no loyalty in return. He missed Achilles, fiercely, and Briseis, too. He missed his wife and he missed his sons, though his phone was full of photos of them, smiling and happy and so far away. He missed his cousin.
Patroclus didn't know what to do.]
Vova, I need you-
It is good to see that people are returning to normal or, at least, trying to. One of my patients informed me that it was forty-three shopping days till Christmas. I think I'd prefer to focus on the other meaning of today. I was educated in England so I suppose I'll refer to it as Armistice Day and spare a moment for those who have died in war. (Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn and am I too old to re-train as a soldier?)