The drive here was as long as it was silent. Nobody in the car dared to turn on the radio or speak as we drove closer to the hospital. I remember looking up once and watched Mickey as he fixed his eyes on the road, I know he could feel my eyes on him but he didn't bother to look back. I remember it stung, only adding to the numbness I was already feeling inside. I didn't need him to look at me to see his eyes were red and watering; Mickey didn't have to speak, and his eyes would tell me the 1000 thoughts that ran through his mind. I wanted to look away but I couldn't help but watch as he held back the tears he's been fighting to keep hidden. His baby blue eyes never did this often so I continued to watch him, secretly begging for him to let go. It hurt to see him hurt, but there was a special kind of beauty in it, A beauty that was so rare that it only revealed itself on occasion; a beauty that I got to witness each time.
When I finally looked away I remember it was hard to hold back my own tears, I could feel them building up inside me but I choked them back, I had to. It was at least eighty degrees outside and the sun was shining but I felt as if there was this big rain cloud that hovered over me, as if I was watching the only light around consumed by the storm that is my disease.
As the car began to slow down, I could sense we were getting closer. The numbness that I felt began to pace rapidly into fear. I knew my hands were shaking but I couldn't help myself because I wasn't ready for what was about to come next. It was when Mickey grabbed my hand and held it tight, and squeezed so hard that it cracked a couple of my knuckles that I knew he was just as scared as I was, and I somehow found comfort in that… Then the car stopped.
When we got out of the car, I zipped up the navy blue hoodie I was wearing, thinking that somehow it was going to shield me from the oncoming storm; but that lingering rain cloud continued to follow me. When we got inside Fiona and Lip were there talking to the lady at the reception desk handing back the clipboard before finally noticing we arrived. Fiona walked up to us, and instead of talking to me directly she approached Mickey first.
We got here early so we decided to fill out the paperwork for him. Should only be a couple minutes before someone comes and does his intake.
Mickey didn't say anything but just nodded while Fiona continued to assure him that I was in good hands, and that she's seen this a million times with Monica so she knows what to expect with the whole process. I was beginning to feel annoyed; everyone kept talking around me like I wasn't in the same room. I was beginning to hate words like sick and disease and really hated when everyone assured me they were only trying to help but treating me as If I was a god damn leper. I stormed out the doors and yelled a loud, bellowing scream that could wake the dead. At the time I didn't care about showing weakness and having the tears I fought so hard to hold back escape, I only cared about getting away from everyone who suffocated me.
Reflecting on it now, I feel bad that when Fiona and Lip came rushing out behind me I lashed out at them ordering them to leave. Worry crossed Fiona's face as she stared at me in silence, before nodding in agreement and leaving with Lip in tow. I couldn't breathe as I struggled to catch my breath, close to passing out from hyperventilating. My face was beginning to get red and I wasn't sure if it were from the Chicago sun, or from the anger and confusion that was cumulating on the inside. I clenched my fists and huffed as I tried to contain the beast that I was becoming, only to come to a grinding halt when I felt familiar hands grab me and pull me closer to his even more familiar body. I was forced to look up and almost instantly I caught my breath when I saw piercing baby blue eyes staring into mine. It wasn't that they were staring into mine that made my hands unclench, and my breath return- it was that looking into his eyes I knew that they were seeing me too. Actually 'seeing' me, knowing me- accepting me for who and what I am.
Mickey was never the type to hold hands or kiss in public but it was when he pulled me into him, and I could smell the familiar scent of cigarettes and sweat, that I felt my hands grab his waist and pull him even closer to me. He nestled his head onto my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around me. I felt his breath on my neck breathing me in, as if it were the only thing of me he had left. He held me like this for what, somehow felt like forever but not nearly long enough. It was when he moved his head slightly from my neck to my ear that he said the words I'll never forget
You have to do this Ian. If you aint gonna do it for yourself, you gotta do it for me. I need you.
I thought that was it when he began to pull away, but instead he stopped when his eyes met mine again, and added:
I Love You Gallagher.
It was enough to almost make me cry again. I didn't though, I refrained. Not because I was trying to prove a point that I was stronger than I actually was, but because somehow with him I knew I had nothing to cry about. He is my anchor that kept me grounded; he is the air I breathe when I feel like I'm suffocating. Mickey is everything to me, and I know I could win this fight if I knew it was his voice encouraging me on the sidelines.
Ian G.