There is something calming about watching a baby sleep. They are so innocent and so small. Chest rising and falling with slight muscle twitches. What could he be dreaming about or feeling. It amazed Mickey how something so fragile and useless became such a big part of his course he hates to admit it. And as far as anyone is concerned the baby is a piece of shit.
Tonight, was a different night. He lost count to how many drinks he had already and he had put his son to sleep in the small crib by the bed he shared with his wife. He didn't sleep though. Never next to her. That part of the bed was always meant for someone else. Instead, he sits on the chair, legs rests on the edge of the bed and watches his son.
Cigarette after cigarette and drink after drink, Mickey finally gets up and makes his way over to the kitchen. It is nearly four in the morning and the sun is rising soon. He sits out on the porch and pulls out his phone. He flips through his contacts and reaches to the one he is dying to call. The one number he refuses to text.
But this time he presses the option to send a text and stares at the blinking curser on his message. He has the ability to say anything. He knows Ian will figure out that he is drunk. They haven't spoken in months and the aching in Mickey's chest is getting unbearable.
But what is he supposed to say to him after all these months? Sorry wouldn't cut it. Is he supposed to tell him that he misses him? Mickey never told someone how he feels before. He doesn't know what the fuck he's supposed to say.
Hey Ian.
No fuck. Delete.
How are things?
That is worse than before. Delete.
Mickey rubs his face, frustrated. This isn't supposed to be so hard. It never was hard when it was just them two. Laughing. Hanging out and joking with each other. Tears fell from his eyes but he quickly rubs them away in case someone see's. Not that he expected anyone to wake up in the middle of the night.
Shoot anyone yet?
Jesus, he never thought he was lame before trying to text someone. Delete.
The sun starts to rise. The yellow and orange sky filling behind Southside. It doesn't look so bad from where he is sitting. Mickey looked back down at his phone and bit his lip as he thinks of the perfect words to type.
I know I should have treated you better.
