Mending Michael (28 page)

MICK

"Where's Kenna?"

Charity walks past me at the kitchen table to pour herself a cup of coffee. "Liz took her to get bagels." She holds up the pot in gesture, asking me if I'd like more.

"Sure." I hold out my mug to her. While she's pouring my coffee, I say, "How ya doin, T? We haven't really had a chance to talk."

She returns the pot back on the burner, gets the milk out of the fridge, pours it into our mugs, and sits down as she sets the carton on the table. "No. We haven't."

"Are you okay?"

She scratches her head just above her neck. "I'm getting there. It ain't easy," she admits.

"Of course not, but...I admire you. You're pulling through."

"Let's just hope I last. Last time, I didn't."

"Last time, you didn't have Kenna."

Charity's eyes get glassy. "I'm so ashamed, Michael. Just... you have no idea."

I release a sound with my exhaled breath.

"I hate being like them.
I hate it
." Her words are strong, emphatic. They come from her gut. "You know that picture I keep? In Kenna's room...of you and Kenna when she was just born?"

I nod, knowing exactly which picture she's talking about.

"Do you remember what we talked about before I took that picture?"

I nod again, the memory sharpening as she speaks.

"I promised you I would take care of her, Michael." The gloss in her eyes bubbles. "I promised you I would never put partying before my daughter like they did. I failed." She cries into her hands.

Reaching for one of her hands, I pull it away from her face so I can look at her. "You did not fail, Charity.
You
are here.
You
went for help. Not once did Mom or Dad ever seek help, nor did it ever appear that they'd wanted to.
You
are recovering for your daughter. I believe in you."

After several wet and noisy sniffs, she says, "Your face in that picture. You were in so much pain. I knew you were thinking about Frankie that day. I know his death affected you more than it did me." Her hand shakes in mine as she continues speaking. "And I made a vow that day, the day I took that picture, to never put you in that kind of pain ever again. I wanted my baby to be a new start. I wanted her to take your pain away."

I look at her surprised. "Charity. That's a lot of pressure to put on a little girl. It's a lot of pressure to put on yourself too.
I
am responsible for my emotions. Not you. And your little girl? She brings me more happiness than I'd ever known. I love her as much as you do. But it is not up to the two of you to protect me from...from myself. That's
my
job. Only I can do that, T." I take both her hands and squeeze. "Only I can do that," I repeat more softly.

My guess is that she is feeling uncomfortable holding my hands, because she pulls them out from my grip and brings them to her lap. We were never close siblings, so I understand.

"Michael," she whispers. "I know I've been dealing with my own problems, and you've been dealing with my problems too, but..." She looks down at her hands, "I saw you. The past two nights...out in the yard."

I nod, wondering where she's going with this.

"You were drinking."

"Yeah. So?"

"Well, I'm probably making more of it than it is, and I know I haven't paid much attention to you lately and all, so...don't get mad at me, it's just..."

I snap my hands up to stop her. "Don't. I get it." I really don't feel like talking about me right now.

"Well. Just...be careful," she advises. "And...thank you. For all you've done for me with Kenna. I don't know where we'd be right now without you. So, thank you." She looks back down at her hands. "I love you," she whispers.

"I love you, too, T."

"Mommy, Mommy," Kenna comes running into the kitchen, a chocolate milk box in her hand. "Aunt Lizzie took me to that playground." Kenna looks at me. "You know, the one you and Aunt Patty took me to."

"That's great, baby," Charity says, scooping her daughter up in her arms.

"I do, sweetie. I'm glad Aunt Lizzie took you there."

"She bought bagels for all of us, Mommy."

Charity doesn't say anything; she just squeezes Kenna tighter.

***

I pull into the parking lot of the bar. The driveway of my home, where I haven't been to all week.

There's an unsettling feeling floating around in my stomach when I walk into the bar. I enter with my head down, embarrassed for the first time to be here.

"Mick. Welcome back," Tabitha greets me with her bubbly presence.

"Hey, Mick," Tina walks by with a tray of food.

Behind the bar, Donny smacks the top of my back. "How's it going, Mick? Things under control?"

"Getting there." Not in the mood to talk about my life right now, I ask him how business is going.

"Pretty good, my friend. It's picking up. And Holly is kicking ass as bartender."

Holly.
"Yeah?" I ask, making sure to sound indifferent. I'm so afraid to talk about Holly. I still want her so much, but for some reason, even though Kenna is back, I'm more unsure about a relationship than I was before. I haven't even texted her back, fearful I'd succumb to my wants and needs too soon. It still doesn't feel right to involve her in my life. But I can't explain why.

"Yeah. She's a quick learner." He eyes me, waiting for a reaction.

"Good." He's not gonna get one from me today.

He shrugs and takes off his apron. "You good on your own, man? I got a date tonight."

"Yeah. I'm good." I laugh. "It's about time."

"Hey, Mick," Todd, one of our regulars calls from his perch at the end of the bar. "Can you fix me up with a Shock Top? And Holly's been rimming my glass with that cinnamon and sugar shit."

"Cinnamon and sugar?" I ask. "Since when do we rim beer mugs?"

"Since, Holly, I guess."

"Here," Donny says behind me, handing me a flat covered glass container. "The cinnamon-sugar shit. Holly saw it online. They love it."

"So we're a sissy bar now?"

Donny shakes his head. "See ya later," he calls over his shoulder as he leaves the bar.

Quickly getting back into the swing of things, my nerves start to settle, but not before I'd taken two shots of vodka to help the process. The uneventful evening comforts me, and I almost feel normal...

Until Holly walks in.

With Ben.

Griffin and Cali are close behind, but that does nothing to appease my growing anger. My increasing jealousy, if I'm being honest with myself. All four of them take a table towards their usual table in the front. I haven't made eye contact with Holly yet, but I wonder if she's here because she's under the impression I am still on leave, or if she just doesn't care that she's flaunting Ben right in front of me. She'd explained that she wasn't really seeing Ben, but what if she'd only said that to spare my feelings? Or, what if by telling her I wasn't ready for a relationship, I'd pushed her right into one with Ben? What if I'd missed my chance to be with her?

And what the hell had been holding me back in the first place?

HOLLY

I'm in the middle of cracking up at a joke Ben told when I see him. Frowning behind the bar. What the hell is he doing here? Donny'd said he'd be out all week.

"You okay?" Ben asks, covering my hand with his.

Turning back toward him, I say, "Yeah. Just didn't know Mick would be back tonight."

"Oh. Is it a problem that he is?" Ben asks, innocently enough.

Of course, I'd never went overboard with explaining to Ben everything between Mick and me, so he wouldn't exactly understand my agitation.

I slide my hand out from under his and tell him I'll be right back.

"Mick," I call softly as I approach the bar.

His back to me, he snaps back his head, smacks a shot glass down in front of him, and turns around.

"Holly." His forced smile confuses me.

"Is everything okay? How's Kenna adjusting? I texted you once, but I didn't want..." Abruptly, I stop my rambling, realizing how pathetic I must sound.

"She's adjusting." He's still looking at me. Still smiling. Still faking it.

"How 'bout you? You adjusting?"

His smile disappears, his expression now genuine...and sad. "I can't talk now, Holly." His words are thoughtful. Honest. True. "Maybe later?"

I nod. "Please."

This time, when he smiles, it's real. But his eyes still hold a world of grief.

"I think of you often," I add, wanting him to know he's on my mind.

"When you're not with Ben?" he asks quietly, bitterness nowhere in his tone.

"I'm
not
with Ben. Not like that. I told you I'd wait, didn't I?"

I'm met with huge dark eyes and pierced lips. "I'm not good for you, Holly," he mumbles beneath his breath, then assists one of his customers. I wait a few minutes for him to return, but the bar's busy, and he never gets the chance. I go back to my table where my friends and I laugh and drink for a couple more hours...

Until Tabitha sits down and says, "I don't believe it."

She turns and looks toward the bar where Donny is standing, dumbfounded.

"What's Donny doing here?" I ask.

"Just came in after his date to check on things."

"Oh." I turn back to my friends.

"What don't you believe, Tab?" Cali asks.

"Mick just quit."

HOLLY

He just quit.

Told Donny he wasn't coming back, and we haven't heard from him since.

That was a month ago.

I've tried calling, texting, I even knocked on his door upstairs and rang his bell at his house. No response, no answer. By the time I visited his North Haledon home a second time, a new family was living there.

Where is he?

At first, when I would ask Donny if he knew anything, I'd believed him. Now, however, I do not. The shift in his eyes is different when he answers me. His eyes dart up to the left subtly. Before when I'd asked, he'd hold eye contact. He's lying now, but I don't get why.

"Holly," Ben greets me and sits at the bar.

"Hey, Ben. Coke?"

"Sure."

I fill his glass and hand it to him.

"I'm heading home in a few. I just wanted to tell you."

"In a few what?"

"Minutes. Going in for surgery next week. Gotta hang home a little bit."

"Ben." I frown. "I'm gonna miss you. You'll be gone all semester?"

"Yup. I'll be back in January though. Don't be too sad."

"Oh, Ben. That just sucks."

He laughs.

"It's not funny. First, Griffin gets Cali, then Rose gets so involved in her Broadway play that she forgets about me, and now you're leaving?" I whine, so uncharacteristically. "Now there'll be no one to keep my mind off of...never mind."

Ben pushes his soda aside and leans forward across the bar. "You never talk about him. Why?"

I shrug. "Why bother?"

"'Cause it helps people to talk about things that bother them. I swear, if you weren't so hot, I'd think you were a guy."

"You think I'm hot?"

"I'm serious, Holly. It's not good to keep things bottled up."

"Okay, Dr. Falco, I'll take that into consideration," I joke.

"Smart ass. But you know I'm right."

I wave my hand at him. "No you're not. So, you leaving right away, or did you want something to eat?"

"Nah. I do gotta run. You got my number, keep in touch."

He reaches in his pocket, probably for his wallet.

"It's on me." I walk out from behind the bar. "Hug?"

He smiles, then embraces me in a warm, muscular squeeze.

"I hope you recover quickly," I say over his shoulder.

"I will. I got a baseball career to think about."

After stepping back from me, he looks down and says, "Thanks for befriending me, Holly. You made my summer schooling worth it."

With a wink and a smile, I pat him on the ass as he walks out of the bar. Hopefully not out of my life.

MICK

Leaving the safest place I've known after only three weeks is scaring me to death. The only home I have to go back to is my studio, and God knows, I'm not in any position to live above a bar. Not if I want to stay sober for any length of time.

When I knock on my aunt's front door, the one attached to the house for which I now pay the mortgage, my hand shakes—not from alcohol withdrawal, fortunate for me I wasn't affected with any physical symptoms—but from nerves. It's only been twenty-one days, but the real world frightens me.

"Mickey," my aunt nearly wails when she sees me standing at her door. She hugs me tight and says, "What're you doing knocking? You have a key."

I pull away and shrug. "Didn't feel right just walking in."

"Mickey, baby," she cries, yanking me by the hand through the living room, "how are you? I wasn't expecting you. How'd you get here?"

"Uncle Mikey," Kenna shouts happily.

"Uncle Mikey?" I look at Liz while picking up Kenna. "How ya doin' baby? I missed you so much."

"She hears Charity call you Michael and me call you Mickey, I think she gets confused.”

I shake my head, "Uncle Mikey is perfect," I say to my precious niece and kiss her on the forehead. "Oh, God, how I've missed you."

Liz pours me a cup of coffee, and it makes me laugh.

"What's so funny?" she asks.

Pulling out the chair from the table, I sit Kenna on my lap. "Private joke. Nothing really. Coffee's great. Thanks. Anyway, I took a cab. You have enough to do, I didn't want to bother you with picking me up."

"Mickey, when you gonna get it through your thick skull? We're family. Family helps each other."

"But you've already done so much."

"What have I done? Helping Charity raise her beautiful daughter is a blessing...for
me
." She looks at Kenna. "Right, baby girl? I love being with you." To me, she says, "I do, Mickey. Charity and I have a great system going. We even got the supervised visits lifted last week, so Charity's with Kenna when I work, and I'm with Kenna
and
Charity when I get home. And oh, did Charity get to tell you she enrolled at Hunter Hill? She starts this semester."

"Yeah, she did. When I called her last week."

Kenna hops off my lap and runs through the open back door when she hears footsteps descending the back stairs. "Mommy, mommy, look who's here."

The footsteps increase in speed and stop on a thump when Charity lands on her ass outside the door.

"Nice, T. Still don't know how to walk down stairs yet?"

She jumps up and runs into the kitchen, nearly knocking me off my chair. "Michael." She squeezes me so hard around the neck, she practically chokes me. "My God. I thought you were staying another week." She pulls away, looks me up and down, and says, "You are so beautiful, Michael. Just beautiful." Then she hugs me again.

When I release her, I look at Kenna. "What got into Mommy?" Shaking my head, I let out a quiet laugh.

"What?" Kenna says, not understanding my semi-rhetorical question.

"Nothing got into me, Michael, I'm just happy to see you."

"I'm sorry, you're just never..."

"I know. I'm different these days. Having Kenna. Enjoying Kenna. My NA meetings. Liz. Luke. I'm finally...I'm getting better, Michael. Things are just...good right now." She shrugs and takes my hand. "It'll be good for you, too. I promise."

This is when I take my seat again, sipping at my coffee to collect my thoughts. “Luke?”

“Yeah. He and I are dating now.” She blushes.

Charity sits in the chair next to Liz and pulls Kenna to her lap, pulling a plate of cut-up grapes in front of her.

"It's hard the first day, Michael," Charity tells me, dropping the subject of Luke. "But it gets easier. Coming home from rehab is scary. I know. But when there's a reason to get better, it's not as hard as you think." My sister kisses Kenna on the top of her head. "She's the perfect reason, right? She needs a healthy family to raise her. A stable family. Just like I had promised you that day, Michael. When I took that picture? I'd promised you I'd be the perfect mother. Now...I'm getting there." Her smile is young. Innocent. Hopeful.

"I'm proud of you, T. Really proud." She's right. When there is reason to pull oneself together, it is easier to
want
to do it. But it's not easy in any sense of the word. I'm happy that Charity finally found her way, but I'm not sure
I
have. She has Kenna. That fact is certain. And she needs to be a good mother to her daughter, another certainty. So why wasn't it enough for
me
to quit drinking when I had to step up for Kenna? Especially because Kenna is so important to me. I will never forgive myself.

During therapy sessions, I was asked, "Then why
are
you here? What
was
that final thought that led you to the decision to seek treatment? What brought you to rehab, Michael?"

"To be honest," I'd told them, "A girl."

Of course, I realize my answer to be purely juvenile, but it is in truth and accuracy that it was said.

"I'm proud of you too, Michael," my sister says in answer to my praises of her. "It ain't easy being us...but we're doing it. Right?"

"Mommy. I wanna watch
Tangled
."

"Okay, Kenni. Be right back," Charity says to us and leaves to help Kenna with the television.

I get up and walk to the piano that is sitting in the dining room, which oversees the kitchen. “I can’t believe we kept this thing.” I touch Middle C and a chill runs up my arm. “You guys shouldn’t have talked the movers into taking it that day.”

Liz walks up behind me. “You used to play the piano at Grandma’s all the time.”

I continue staring at the keys, softly pressing one after the other, as I apprehensively find my way back to making music on the piano. “It was okay at Grandma’s.”

“What does that mean?” Liz asks me.

With a painful start, I say, “My mother never let me play after Frankie died. She said it made her too sad. I’d play anyway, when I thought she wasn’t around, but she’d hear it and start yelling. A few times,” I stammer, remembering the memory, “I hadn’t known she’d walked into the room and before I could take my hands from the keys, she’d slammed the cover down on my fingers. Eventually…I just stopped playing.”

“Oh, Mickey. I’m so sorry.”

“Eh.” I shrug it off. “It’s in the past.”

“Is that why you kind of stopped playing at Gram’s after a while too?”

I nod, still touching the keys. “Yup. I’d associate it with the pain and all, and…I just stopped.”

“You can start again, you know?”

I bring my left hand up to the keys and run a few scales. They feel good beneath my fingers. The keys. I’d forgotten how much I’d enjoyed playing. I bring my hands to the left of the piano and run my fingers up the keys, crossing hand over hand until I reach the eighty-eighth key.

“You’re good, Mickey.”

I nod, stepping away from the piano. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll start playing again. For fun.” And at that moment, another piece of my past breaks away and evaporates into thin air – a fortunate benefit of seeking counseling to conquer and mend the broken parts of myself.

When I look at Liz, she's got tears in her eyes and a smile lifting her face. "So what are your plans now, Mickey?"

I shake my head and sigh. "I don't know. I can't go back to my apartment. I'm not strong enough to live up there...above a... no. I can't. And I can't ask for my job back, even if Donny will take me. There's no way I'll stay sober there."

"So live here. It's your house. I mean, you're paying half the mortgage. You
should
live here. I'll pay more rent until you get a job."

"I can't live here...with my aunt...nor with my sister. I've done that before. It won't work."

"The attic. Mickey, it's huge. It's already zoned as a three family. There's a bathroom, a kitchenette. Certainly it's as big as your studio, if not bigger. Or...take this floor, and I'll..."

"Oh, no," I interrupt. "You have Kenna. Legally, you need to reside with her. We're not playing with that." I pause. "I guess I can move my stuff up to the third floor. I hadn't thought of that really, but..."

"C'mon. You have the time to fix it up the way you'd like. Make it your own." Her eyes are wide. Hopeful.

"I guess, it's not like I have much of a choice."

"It'll be perfect, Mickey."

"Yeah." I murmur, thinking about all these changes I'm taking on. Changes I need to face
without
having a drink.