Mickey went through his shift in a daze. He hadn't wanted to leave Ian alone so soon, but time and a half was something he just couldn't pass up. He was driving with Elroy, a man he felt completely indifferent to but who hated him. That meant if they didn't need to talk to treat patients, they didn't, and Mickey had a lot of time to think.
After his shift, the daycare lady was taking a million years to find Yev's lunch box and pull him away from his friends (thankfully Yev wasn't antisocial like his parents), so Mickey checked his phone.
I've checked out the literature. This program is long. Are you sure you want me here long enough to complete it? Ian had texted.
Mickey sighed. The program consisted of group therapy and a lot of medication monitoring, and could take up to a year, with follow-up appointments pretty much forever. He didn't want to force Ian to sleep on his couch for a year, but he didn't mind Ian being there to get his meds sorted if that's what Ian wanted. If you're in, I'm in. If living together gets to be too much we'll work something else out, he texted back.
Okay, then you can tell the doc I'm in, Ian texted.
When Yevgeny was finally ready, Mickey gave him a hug and said, "We just have to go upstairs and talk to one of the doctors before we go, okay?"
Yev smiled brightly. He loved the hospital. It was a little creepy to Mickey. Who loved hospitals? Maybe it was because the daycare was part of the hospital. Oh yeah. The free employee daycare for the hospital he was exploiting. That felt good to think about. Although, the hospital was a multimillion dollar business that could totally pay the lowest rung workers a hell of a lot more, so fuck them anyways.
When he got to the eighth floor, which was the psychiatry floor, he used the phone system to call in to Hampton's secretary to let her know the appointment was confirmed. To his surprise, she buzzed him in and said Dr. Hampton wanted to talk to him.
"I've got my son with me," he said.
There was what sounded like a brief conversation between the secretary and Hampton, and then the secretary said, "Bring him along. I'll look after him while the two of you talk."
After getting Yev settled with the secretary and a coloring book, Mickey went into the well-appointed office.
Hampton was sitting behind a modern, clear-glass desk on what looked like an uncomfortable chair.
"Hey Mickey. Just thought you should know I'm bending the rules here. The program is for people who've shown destructive, aberrant behavior. So you should be kissing my ass right now," Dr. Hampton said.
"Kissing your ass? What do I even have that you'd want?" Mickey asked.
"Your partner's number?" he asked.
Mickey shook his head. "If she wanted you to have her number, she would have given it to you a year ago. I don't know what she's got against sleeping with hot doctors. Oh yeah, she said you'd slept with half the staff."
"Hmm, what else could I ask for?" Hampton said.
Mickey rolled his eyes. "His behavior is completely aberrant. He stole his brother's ID to join the army where he got kicked out for trying to steal a helicopter he didn't know how to fly and destroyed, among other things. Then he went on the run from the MPs. He worked in a strip club where he slept with clients for free drugs. I tried to get him into treatment for doing a bareback porno and thinking that was completely normal and he stole my kid and went on a road trip for days without calling and then left Yev, who was a baby at the time, in a hot car while he was scoring drugs or hooking up or something."
"Were the police involved in these things?"
"Police, military policeā¦I don't know if he ever got picked up for prostitution, but it's entirely possible."
"You sure you want to marry this guy? Sounds like he's been around."
Mickey shook his head. "You straight guys. Being a prostitute is not like, considered to be that horrifying in gay culture. We don't idealize virginity at all. Well, I don't know any gay guys who do, but there's a kink for every nut job out there. Lots of gay guys think monogamy is just for straights. Besides, where I grew up, prostitution was just another job. My wife was a whore. Fuck, I used to be a pimp at one point. For like a year. And Ian is way more than what he's done. I've known him for a lot of years, and I think the hyper sexuality is a big part of why he lets himself get used like that. I mean, I think he also thinks he's worthless and the only possible reason anyone could want him is sex."
"Did you pimp him out?"
"Of course not! I pimped out girls. And shit, Hampton, if you'd said that to me a couple of years ago, I would have beat the shit out of you," Mickey said. "Ian means more to me than anything. We broke up a few years ago, and getting him back and being able to maybe help him get healthy is probably the best thing that ever happened to me."
"You know, his feelings for you might change after the program," Dr. Hampton said. "It's not uncommon for people like him to use their significant other as an emotional crutch. He might leave you if he doesn't need you anymore."
"Leaving me because he's healthy is a shit-sight better than him staying with me and doing all sorts of crazy shit that can get him hurt."
"You really love this guy," Hampton said.
"At the end of the day, he's family. And my family, we might seem like the scum of the earth, but we look out for each other. We'd do anything for each other."
"Well, in that case, I'm happy to help," Hampton said.
Mickey collected Yev and headed home. Ian was there, using Mickey's computer. He got up and went over to greet Yev and Mickey.
"Hey, how was your day?"
"Fine," Mickey said. "You?"
"Good. I got some new-old clothes. They're in the dryer. The washer is open if you want me to do a load of uniforms. I would have started dinner but I wasn't sure what Yev would want, and I wasn't sure when you'd get home. Do you usually go from night shifts to day shifts like that?"
"There's usually a couple of days in between. This was different because I got called in. It's not a big deal. You guys want some pizza?"
"Yes!" Yev said. "I'm going to watch TV while I wait."
"You know, Ian, you don't have to cook and clean while you're living here."
"I want to. At least until I get a job or something," he said.
"I was thinking," Mickey said. "About your clothes."
Ian looked down and the clothes he was wearing. "My clothes?"
"No, I mean, you worked as an escort, right?" Mickey said, too quietly for Yev to hear.
"You know I did," Ian said.
"So, you must have had pretty nice clothes to fit in with parties and shit. Why would you rather have second-hand garbage?"
"I don't want the reminder. I don't want to wear gorgeous clothes and think about all the old-man dick I had to suck to get them. Besides, the only time I can see me needing clothes that nice again is to go to upscale parties to pick up rich guys, which I am not interested in doing."
"There must be other things you want from your place, though. Is there someone you don't want to see at your apartment? You have a boyfriend or something?"
"No. I just have roommates. Friends. But I want to make a clean break, you know?"
"Like you did with me and your family? I bet your friends would want to know you're okay," Mickey said.
"I should call Fiona."
"She knows you're okay. I called her. But I'm sure she'd like to hear from you. You know if you've got designer clothes you can sell them for a lot of dough, right? That could be tuition fees if you decide to go to college."
Ian sighed heavily and then chewed on the side of his finger as he thought for another minute. Finally he said, "Okay, I'll go back and get my stuff, but you have to help me sell most of it. Can you drive me over there tomorrow?"
"Of course. Tomorrow is a Saturday, and Mandy usually spends the day with Yev on Saturdays, so we've got lots of time."
"Is it okay if I use your computer to look at where to go to sell designer clothes?"
"Yeah, but are you sure you want to? If you've got really nice suits, then they're probably timeless enough to wear forever and you'll probably never be able to afford them on your own again. I have a storage locker if you'd rather just not see them for a couple of months," Mickey said.
"No, if I have anything to do with my clothes at all, it's going to be selling them."
