I left the motel certain my life could not get any lower. I didn't know what Mike's problem was. The bed bug story worked great, it was exactly the kind of lie he'd use and I really don't see what the harm was in getting food. Every time somebody tries to do something nice for Mike they get bit in the ass. No I take that back, Mom screwed up and she gets a guy's face bashed in, perhaps I'm just lucky.
Somehow no matter what I do, I'm still the little brother. "Cleaning up after me?" I'm not the man he came home to a few years ago. I'm married…well sort of, I am a father, I did everything right and yet I'm being thrown out again. Just like with Ruth, I'm still the fuck-up. Well then, fuck him, if he wants a mess to clean so badly, I'll give him a mess.
At least that's what I told myself as I headed out of that rathole motel and into the casino, prepared to either gamble my way into riches (a man's got to have hope) or at least rack enough debt to give my big bro something legitimate to be angry at me for. Instead I find myself staring blankly at the machine, having spent less than a teenager playing hooky from school who's too worried to have any fun.
The coin in my hand is hovering about the slot again as the phone rings, it's Mike. Of course it is; who else would it be?
"So now you need my help?" I all but spit into the phone, then listen anyway. Because it's for Fiona and Mike deserves her back. Because I know something about lost love and know I'd do anything to get Ruth and Charlie back. Because one of us deserves a happy ending, dammit. I resist the urge to say "yes mommy" as Mike stresses the importance of not approaching Anson, all the while knowing I'll disobey him if necessary.
The Westen brothers were never very good at following directions. Moments later, I'm giving Assholen one hell of a punch to the jaw and retrieving his gun. I'm proud of my quip: "Michael Westen says hello". It's the kind of line you would not expect to pull off in real-life. I keep the gun on him, and Mike arrives, and for a moment I'm on top of the world. I imagine us telling this story again and again. Nate Westen's shining moment. I captured Anson. I saved Fi. I…got shot.
One second I'm standing there, gun poised, and in the next, a blur of indescribable pain, and then I'm on the ground with Mike looking down at me, telling me I'm going to be alright. It's then that I know I'm truly screwed. Because Mike only lies to those he loves when there's no other option. He'll omit, he'll evade, he'll deflect, but he only flat out lies to me the times when the truth is just too horrible. It's that and the way he's looking at me, so damn sorry that I know I'm not making out of this. We both start to cry.
"I'm scared," I admit, because I am, and because I don't know what else I could possibly say. I don't want to die; I don't want this to be just another mess. I was trying, but it wasn't good enough. That is the thought I hold tight to as I slip away. I lived and died a failure.