mom 1978

Ice Cream

The series is as follows :

Mama Scully’s Party …. MorningUnderwearsMapsNachosFoul BallPromisesStayPhone CallsFlannel InterruptionAwakeningFriendly CompromisesScrabbleApart …  A Long WeekLightningMissing YouInterimStuffWaitingGoingHandsUnsteadyFearFastSlowRegardlessInto the DarkLightSurfboardsCurbsShowersBordersCanyonsSoakedIce CreamNever HappenedDeep SouthAlmostBlue-Suede ShoesUnwelcomeRemarkableStarsDoorbellsM&MsKneesHome


Scully insisted on salad for dinner. In the interim while Mulder napped in reaction to his pretty purple pill, she contemplated what she’d had for her 1am snack and declared that there would be healthy food consumed that night. Leaving Mulder a note on his chest, she went and bought them diner chicken salads, hers grilled chicken, his crispy, along with yogurt, ice tea no sugar and several pieces of fruit for dessert.

By the time she returned, he was in a half-groggy, cranky state and his mood did not improve when he saw the green leaves through the clear plastic containers, “salad? Really?”

“Yes, Mulder. Every so often, your body needs a green vegetable and today is that day, bucko, so suck it up and enjoy.”

“You need some ice cream.”

She stopped mid-low-fat dressing drizzle, “oh, that sounds really good.”

“Can we have ice cream for dessert?”

“I have oranges and apples.”

“Okay. Can we each eat an orange and an apple, then go get ice cream?”

Grogginess cleared and crankiness on the run, he tilted that wild-haired head of his at that unbelievable adorable 45 degree angle and raised one eyebrow half a millimeter, engulfing her in a bubble of undeniability that she never knew how to fight.

He was going to get his damn ice cream.

That spell-working genius of an Oxford graduate.

Finishing her dressing application, she ate precisely one forkful of salad before, “I think I will have room for ice cream later on.”

Dropping back to his pillow, arms raised in victory, “the head-tilt and eyebrow pulled it out once again! Whoo-hoo!”

“Shush it. You’re going to make the neighbors wonder what we’re doing in here.”

“Don’t care. We getting ice cream later.”

“I can’t believe I have no defense against the head-tilt and eyebrow.”

“Which is why you’ll never know when I’m going to use it. Too much and it becomes useless, but in the right circumstances, gold, baby, pure unadulterated gold.”

Stabbing another mouthful, she did her best not to smile, “I could still stay no.”

He attacked his salad with gusto, now that he knew what came after, “you wouldn’t dare. You want that ice cream just as badly as I do.”

She ignored him.

But lost her battle with her smile.


Scully commandeered a wheelchair from the hotel desk and rolled Mulder to the nearest ice cream parlour, which, luckily, was only a few blocks down. Once they had eaten, extoled virtues and headed back to their room, Mulder got himself settled in for the evening, shuffling pillows, wiggling hindquarters, straightening his now twisted shirt. Switching on the TV, the first thing Scully saw was an ad for stroke medication, which of course triggered, “have you called your mom lately?”

Mulder, chocolate ring around his lips, which he half-heartedly licked at every minute or so, savoring as long as possible the best ice cream cone he’d had in weeks, hands down, muted the TV, “I called a few days back but she was napping. When’s the last time you talked to Maggie?”

“Just after we got to Mexico.” Leaning over to retrieve her phone from the nightstand, “she’s going to want an estimate of when we’re getting home.”

Finally using his t-shirt sleeve to remove the rest of the stickiness from his lips, “before the 4th of July but definitely after this Tuesday.”

Dialing, “that is not helpful.”

“Best I can do considering I’m not the one driving us home.”

About to answer him, Maggie said ‘hello?’ on her end and the next twenty minutes were consumed by stories of antics, casts, National Parks and news from home.

Mulder half-listened until he heard the phrase, “are you serious? How in the world did that happen?” All ears after that, he gleaned what he could and came up with the conclusion that he had no idea what they were talking about, so he decided to poke her until she finished talking.

It wasn’t 1000 pokes of death or anything truly annoying but simple, light finger pressing into her thigh muscles or the curve of her elbow or her cheek while she waved her hand at him every few pokes, like swatting at a fly you don’t really see but know is there.

Finally, she hung up, “curious as hell, aren’t you?”

“What gave it away?”

“Your fickle phalange.”

Giving his fingertip an appraising look, “that sounds much better than my annoying finger.”

Sliding down on the pillows, she grinned at the popcorned ceiling, “you will never guess who came over to mom’s for dinner?”

“The Pope, Walter Skinner, Abraham Lincoln or the mailman?”

Her head rolled slowly in his direction, “really?”

“You told me to guess.”

“Frohike, Langley and Byers.”

Studying intently the empty space before him, he turned to Scully, nodding his head, “I can see that.”

“How do you see that?! In what universe is that even remotely plausible?”

“Well, this one apparently, although I would like to know how the planets aligned to cause it.”

Launching her story post haste, “mom was over at my place, getting mail and whatnot and the guys let themselves in, scaring my mother out of her mind. She screamed, Frohike screamed, Langley fell over backwards and Byers seems to have looked at everyone, shook his head and shook my mother’s hand ‘hello’.”

“Can totally see that, too. Continue.”

“They were there to do their monthly bug sweep and after several minutes of explanation and eventual understanding, Mom asked if they’d like to come back to her house once they were done for card night. Langley, apparently, was the first to say yes and Byers nodded politely and Frohike asked how much liquor they should bring. My mother, being my mother, was delighted,” touching Mulder on the arm, “because any friends of yours are worthy of being friends of hers.”

“I need to get some cleaner friends.”

“So she stayed while they looked for nerd tech with their own nerd tech, then they followed her to the house, where they appear to have delighted Betty and Janet and the rest of the ladies. Frohike and Betty got along wonderfully, both knowing every word to every song ever recorded before 1978. Mom had to cut both Betty and Frohike off from the wine.”


“And Byers did the dishes and Langley has a date with Janet’s daughter this Friday.”

Mulder choked on his own spit, “he what?”

“I guess Janet gave him her chat name and they’ve been talking ever since.”

Wiping a non-existent tear, “my boys are growing up.”

“Your boys are probably just hoping for a second invite.”

“They’ll undoubtedly get one.”

Shaking his head, he yawned, “wonders never cease.”

Shifting so she lay closer beside him, they both stared some more at the popcorn ceiling until, “I miss them.”

He scooted his head closer, temples connecting, “all of them?”

“Yeah. I even miss Skinner, if you can believe it.”

His finger crawled in her direction, poking her hip, then moving up slightly to wind in the elastic band of her pajama pants, knuckle against bare skin, “ready to start heading home then?”

“No, but yes.” Turning her head, her nose ran into his, “I don’t want to get used to sleeping alone again.”

Shifting his head up, he pressed his lips on her skin above her eyebrow, “I don’t either.”