A couple of hours passed. Micky's house was large enough for he and Mike to avoid each other - they generally kept out of each other's way anyway. They hadn't seen each other since their little spat earlier, and Mike figured it was about time he went looking for Micky.
Mike felt absolutely terrible. He and Micky had had minor arguments before; they'd had a few spats back in the days of shooting the show, or in the recording studio, but they were normally fuelled by tiredness and stress, and whatever substances they had been smoking at the time, and were usually forgotten as soon as they had begun. Mike knew Micky could be a nag, and Micky certainly never knew when to shut up or just leave things be. As annoying as it was, Mike had always found it somewhat endearing, and he felt guilty that he'd attacked Micky like that. It was unfair and uncalled for.
Mike viewed Micky as an annoying little brother, but he'd always had this unexplainable urge to look out for him. Micky could be a loose-cannon; he was always the one to drink a little more than he should, or do a few more drugs than he should. Micky was the one to climb higher than everyone else, and Mike was the big brother shouting at him to come down. There had been several times since they had lived together that Mike had helped Micky to bed, or at least to the couch, after he staggered home drunk after a wild night. And there had even been a few times where Micky was so wasted he threw up on the floor; and instead of Mike leaving it for Micky to deal with in the morning, Mike would clean it up without a second thought. Micky would have no recollection of it in the morning, and Mike wouldn't mention it. He never really knew why he did that. If it was anyone else, he certainly wouldn't bother - he would leave them to clean up their own mess, literally and metephorically. But with Micky, for some reason, it was different.
Mike found Micky sitting outside, at the back of the house, on a small bench that overlooked his swimming pool. He was smoking a joint.
Mike sat down next to him. He gestured to the joint in Micky's hand. "Do you mind?"
Micky looked at him for a second, before handing him the joint. Mike took a drag, blowing the smoke into the cool night air.
Mike looked out over the pool, which was glistening in the light from the moon. It was about 11pm, and everything was perfectly still and quiet apart from the sound of a few crickets in the distance.
Mike sighed deeply. "You're right, you know." He said. Micky looked at him, while Mike stared straight ahead. "I am an asshole."
Micky was silent for a little while. "Or maybe you just do a good impression of one."
Mike looked at him, strangely moved by that assessment. Micky looked up, and Mike handed the joint back to him before looking out over the pool once more.
"I didn't mean to say what I said to you. It came out all wrong. It weren't fair."
"Forget it." Micky said, taking a drag and looking ahead.
"I just mean...like...you don't have to answer to no one." Mike continued awkwardly. He hated having to apologise, and he didn't enjoy Deep and Meaningful's either. "You ain't got kids, or a wife. You don't know what it's like to fuck everything up."
"Then why did you?" Micky asked.
Mike was confused. "Why did I what?" He looked at Micky.
"Why did you fuck everything up?" Micky asked again, turning to look straight at Mike.
"This boy has got balls, I'll give him that." Mike thought.
Mike opened his mouth to speak, but nothing seemed to come out.
"I mean, I don't get it," Micky continued. "If you loved her so much, why did you cheat on her? I know I'm no one to talk, I mean, I broke up with Sam because I knew I was going to cheat on her. But I figured, I couldn't love her properly, not like I should, if I thought I was going to cheat on her. And I would have cheated on her, so that's why I dumped her. So why did you cheat on Phyllis?"
Mike was stunned that Micky had asked the question he had asked himself so many times. While he had finally been able to answer himself, he had never said anything aloud. Mike hadn't spoken to anyone about the demise of his marriage - that just wasn't his style. He was brought up almost single-handedly by his mother, who was a strong, stern woman who wasn't a big talker herself.
But here he was now, beside this almost fearless boy who wasn't afraid to ask the questions no one else dared ask. Micky looked at Mike eagerly. Mike felt somewhat exposed, vulnerable almost, and he knew if anyone else had asked that question he would've run a mile.
"I... I was looking for something." Mike responded after a long pause.
"Sex?" Micky questioned nonchalant.
"No. No, no, it wasn't like that." Mike shook his head, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. "I don't know...something was missing."
"In your marriage?" Micky wondered. He was staring at Mike intently, as if he was listening to his greatest hero tell some fascinating story.
Mike nodded. He sighed sadly, almost defeated. "Somethin' weren't right. It weren't complete... We were so young, we were just kids when she got pregnant and we got married. I just wanted to do the right thing, you know, by her, by our baby, by our families... Everyone told us we had to get married. I was just tryin' to do the right thing."
"But it wasn't the right thing by you." Micky stated carefully.
Mike looked at him. No one had ever asked him that before. Not once had anyone seemed to question whether Mike was happy within his marriage or not.
Mike shook his head in response, and looked away once again. "That ain't to say I regret anything. I love our son...both our kids. They're everything to me. I never wanted to hurt her, that ain't what I was trying to do." He took a deep breath. "I...I loved her. I still do. I will always love her, but..."
He trailed off, and Micky continued looking at him expectantly. Micky watched Mike with such intent that Mike almost felt like Micky was looking right into his soul. It threw him, it unsettled him...yet he found it strangely comforting at the same time. He had never off-loaded onto anyone. The closest he got to talking about his feelings was through his lyrics and his songs. This was a strange experience for Mike, letting someone in.
"I ain't in love with her." Mike finally said quietly, almost shamefully. "I don't think I ever was. I know I never was."
Micky looked out over the pool. "I've never been in love." He admitted.
"But that ain't no excuse." Mike said firmly. "I ain't trying to make excuses for what I did to her. I still fucked things up. Getting her pregnant again, thinkin' another baby could paper over the cracks. There ain't no excuse for that shit. I am an asshole, Micky."
"No you're not." Micky sighed. "You've made mistakes, but you're not a bad person."
"I shouldn't be talking to you about this anyway." Mike said, figuring it was about time end the deep and meaningful.
"Why not?"
"This is all my own doin', all my own fault. I ain't got any right to moan about my problems - I brought 'em on myself." Mike rose to his feet. "You've got your own problems. Like what you said earlier, what you said about your dad. That ain't your fault, that ain't no one's fault."
"Well no, of course it was no one's fault - it was a heart-attack." Micky hit back, feeling slightly frustrated. "It's not a competition in whose life is more fucked up, Mike."
Mike looked to the ground, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Look, what exactly is your point?" Micky continued. "You think because my dad died that doesn't give you the right to talk to me about your problems?"
Mike looked up. "I don't need to talk to anyone about anything. I'm only saying this stuff 'cause you kept pushing me. Why are you so interested anyway?"
"Maybe because I give a shit?" Micky replied. "I know you like to think the whole world is against you, Mike, but it's really just the other way around."
Mike looked to the floor again. "Whatever." He muttered, feeling defeated.
Micky sighed deeply. "Losing my dad was horrible. It was the worst. But that doesn't mean your issues mean nothing."
"You never talk about your dad." Mike stated, looking at Micky.
"Sure I do, I mention him all the time." Micky frowned, feeling offended.
"No, no, I mean...you don't talk about him...dying." Mike started, desperate to change the subject.
"Well you don't talk about anything." Micky hit back.
Mike nodded, and actually let out a small laugh. "I deserved that."
"What's there to say anyway?" Micky asked. "He died of a heart-attack. It was a long time ago. The end."
Mike sat back down. "It wasn't that long ago."
"Yeah well, it's fine." Micky assured him. "And stop trying to change the subject, we're not talking about me - we were talking about you."
Mike tensed up again. "I ain't got nothin' else to say."
"What about Nurit and the baby?" Micky asked him. "Pretending they don't exist isn't going to make them disappear."
"You think I don't know that?" Mike questioned. "Do you think this is all some big game to me?"
"I never said that." Micky replied. "But you have to do something about it. You can't seriously want that boy to grow up without a dad, because of what? Because you made a mistake?"
"It ain't that simple." Mike said quietly. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Maybe not, but what I do know is it's not that kid's fault that you fucked up." Micky said matter-of-factly. "So punishing him for your mistakes is just fucking selfish."
Mike glared at Micky, but Micky wore a defiant look. Mike's face softened, realising Micky was right. "You've got nerve saying that, boy."
"Yeah well there's no point dressing it up, is there?" Micky asked. "It's the truth and you know it."
"I've left it too long..." Mike said quietly after a long silence. "It's been 6 months, and I ain't even seen him."
"You can change that though." Micky said, reassuringly.
Mike shook his head. "No, it'll be best if I just leave it alone."
Micky sighed. "You grew up without your dad around, didn't you?" Mike simply looked at him. "And I haven't had my dad for the past six years. It sucks."
"That's totally different." Mike said defensively. "Me and my dad don't get along, we never really have. It ain't no loss to me, not having him in my life. Your dad was a great man."
Micky was slightly surprised by that comment. "You never met him." He said, puzzled.
"But I met you, and you turned out alright. And if you're anything like your father, which people always say you are, then he was obviously a really great man." Mike admitted, the words sort of falling out of his mouth. He immediately felt embarrassed and in turn begun to feel rather flustered.
Micky was taken aback by Mike's words, and felt his own cheeks flush slightly. It's not like he wasn't used to compliments - people said nice things about him all the time. And it was true; people who knew Micky's father often said Micky was just like his dad, but hearing it from Mike was different. It wasn't as if Mike was never nice, because he could actually be incredibly charming when the mood struck him.
Micky looked at Mike, who then turned to look at Micky. They were each grateful for the darkness, unable to see that they were each blushing. Micky certainly wasn't one to embarrass easy, but for some reason he was incredibly flattered by Mike's remark.
Mike could sense the younger-man's surprise at his words, and when he looked into Micky's almond-shaped eyes it was as if he looked genuinely touched.
Mike figured this awkward moment had gone on long enough, and he cleared his throat before looking away again. "But I might be wrong," Mike finally said. "Like you say, I never knew him."
Micky knew Mike had meant what he said, and that he was just back-tracking in order to 'save face'. He actually found it rather sweet that Mike was clearly embarrassed that he'd unwittingly dished out a compliment.
Sweet? You actually think he's sweet?
Micky's face started to burn bright red again, and he felt this bizarre tingling feeling in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly felt uneasy, and when he looked at Mike he knew Mike felt just the same.
"Well..." Micky started, needing to say something. "I'm just saying, it's not too late to make amends."
Mike stood up once more. "This conversation is over." He said coldly. "It ain't none of your business what I choose to do or not do, you got it?"
Micky looked down, nodding his head. "I just don't want you to do something you'll regret."
"Well that's my problem, ain't it? Not yours." Mike said firmly. And with that, he walked off.
Micky watched Mike walk into the house. He felt totally weirded out by their exchange, and he was pretty sure he knew why he felt so unsettled. But he couldn't understand why Mike was acting so strange. It was as if Micky was beginning to make a breakthrough, just to have it torn away again. He sighed deeply to himself. He wanted to help Mike, but he didn't know how.