Chapter 9: Pokerface
White, sterile walls, counters, floors and chairs. Bright, spotless white. I feel like it's going to burn my eyes out every time the sun creeps through the large windows opposite of where Mikey and I are sitting. The chairs are uncomfortable but neither of us is complaining. Actually, Mikey hasn't really said anything once he came back from being checked out by the doctor. The young woman told me it was just a minor concussion and that Mike could take some pills if the headaches got too bad. Other than that he was fine. We'll need to keep him awake for the next twenty-four hours or so though. That'll be a pain. Mikey is a deep sleeper.
Leo, Raph and Mister Murakami are still gone. Leo walked in a couple of minutes ago, asking how Mikey was doing and giving us an update. According to the x-rays, Raph's tibia was snapped clean in half and there is some trauma around the fibula. It luckily it isn't as serious as it could have been, but the plastering will take some time. If Raph will follow the rules, and that is a big if, the cast will be off in six weeks or so.
For now it's just a waiting game, really. And since Mikey never has been the most patient boy around, I'm glad I'd taken the deck of cards from the car's dashboard cabinet with me. I show Mikey the pack and his eyes light up. He loves playing cards, has loved it for as long as I can remember.
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I was really excited when dad let Mikey stay for a couple of nights. And Mike himself also seemed to be happy that he could. Ever since we met, I had noticed how his behaviour seemed a little off. He never really wanted to talk about his home or his family, and when they came up, he either got nervous and quiet, or tried to charm his way out of the conversation. Which, now that I think back on it, he really was good at. So when we got to keep him at our place for a little while, and I could see how relieved he was when he could, my suspicions of something being wrong at his house, were confirmed. And when we called to Mikey's place and Casey picked up replying with a bored 'whatever' when we told him about Mikey's injury, I think dad grew worried as well. The point is, even though we both understood something was going on in Mikey's life, neither of us knew the extent of it. Because if we had known, we would have put a stop to it a long time ago. But I don't think Mikey would have let us at that point. He just kept putting on his happy mask, his pokerface, and smiled at the world that all but wanted to kill him.
"What you got, Donnie?"
I stare at my cards and at the ones lying in front of us, trying to memorize the terms Mikey had taught me in less than a minute.
"I think this is a straight, right?"
He scans his eyes over the cards quickly before nodding enthousiastically, then putting a hand to his head when his headache plays up again. I think it's better for him to sleep his injury off instead of making it worse like this, but he was so happy when I agreed to play a game of cards with him. Although it would be best for him, he just doesn't know how to take it easy, or be careful with his head injury at all. It kinda worries me, but dad said Mikey's concussion wasn't too bad. And if the pain really got worse, dad would take him to a doctor just in case.
"I win with a straight flush!" Mikey goades, displaying his cards on the bed with a wide grin.
I groan. He beat me three times in a row already. He told me you need a pokerface for this but I just don't know how. Leo always told me my face is like an open book anyways. And Mikey's pokerface is really good. Not because he can look at me seriously, like he told me was the idea actually, but because no matter what cards he has, he always smiles, beaming like he is happy with what he's got, even when the cards suck. Now that I think about it, is that even how a pokerface is supposed to work? On the other hand, this boy doesn't seem to do anything like a normal person would but for me that makes my new friend all the more special. He is interesting and fun. Not that much of a humble winner though.
"Sure Mikey," I say, placating him. "Who taught you this game anyway?"
"Oh no one," he says, mumbling because around a card stuck between his teeth, his small hands quickly clearing the others. "Casey likes to watch it on tv. After a while you get the hang on it. And they teach you the tips and tricks too, but you gotta watch really carefully or you'll miss them."
Another card finds its way to Mikey's mouth and I notice how they are both jokers. He then frantically searches for the third.
"You know, cards aren't too healthy to eat," I say in amusement, tapping one of the cards in his mouth with my finger, grinning a little. I was just kidding really, trying to embarrass him a little, but he doesn't take it as lightly as I intened it to be. His face flushes a bright red and he quickly takes the cards out of his mouth, a bit of panic flashing through his eyes as he does so.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ruin them," he almost yells out of panic, rubbing his sleeve over the cards to get the drool off of them. Then he straightens them out carefully when they bent a little at the edges. His shoulders are quaking a bit and all of the sudden he doesn't look at me anymore. It startles me and for a moment I don't know what to say. I stare at him, wondering where the smiling little kid went I just played a game of cards with. Is it because of the concussion that he acts like this? It kind of reminds me of the kid in the alley. But that was his twin brother, right?
"Hey, uhm Mikey, it's okay. It was a joke, you know. Nothing to get worked up about. You're fine."
His blue eyes raise up from the cards to look at my face. The sheer intensity of his gaze makes me want to shiver. I don't move when his eyes scan me over, looking for danger or hate that isn't there. When I watch him a little closer, trying to wrap an arm around him for comfort, I notice how his eyes seem to glaze over, becoming a little greyish at the edges before he blinks it away.
His lip trembles slightly and his cheeks are covered with the remnants of a blush. He shrugs my arm off as soon as it lands on his left shoulder and he doesn't want to look at me. I don't blame him. He is obviously scared.
"'M Sorry," he mutters, the tremble from his body vibrating through his voice.
"I don't mind," I shrug it off casually although I know this is far from normal. I don't want to make him more uncomfortable than he already is, so I play along as if it's a problem every boy his age could come across when in a strange environment. And hey, who knows, maybe this is just how he is. I would feel bad if I broke or ruined something of a friend of mine too, especially if it was my first time in their house.
"You know, my twin brother, Raph, he's even worse," I suddenly say, trying to break the tension a bit. "Every time someone makes a joke at his expense he'll chase that person down till he catches him and after that, well you don't want to know. But it is the reason why he's in detention so often. And why he's the strongest of my brothers. Our father's punishments often mean push-ups or something like that. The struggles of having a martial arts teacher as a dad."
And I keep rambling like that, like Mikey does most of the time and I realise how easy it is. Just to keep on talking like there is nothing wrong and when I think back to it later on, it scares me. But at that moment it puts Mikey at ease and when I mention training and martial arts again his face actually lights up.
"Sounds awful," he chuckles lightly, the earlier moment forgotten so fast that it worries me all over again. He's a very special kid, that's for sure. I don't know if that's a good thing though.
"So what are we going to play now?" I ask because I'm still curious about the sudden removal of the jokers.
"Oh, this new one's a bit easier. It's called presidents."
By the wide grin on his face I can tell it will be another game in which he will royally kick my butt. Not that I mind, I smile along, filing away a mental note of the strange moment that occurred mere minutes ago. It's the first of many times I would be tricked by one of Mikey's 'Happy masks'.
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That moment was only a small taste of his usual reactions. After years of being abused he has been conditioned to react like this. To expect beatings and yelling whenever he does something he believes he isn't supposed to. He would beg for forgiveness before anyone even got the chance to be mad at him. When he was younger it was worse, but as he grew up he taught himself to be less vulnerable. To appear less vulnerable. And that is our biggest problem now.
The reason he hasn't completely healed from the mental damage his so-called 'family' caused him is mostly because of Richi and his own hard-headedness. Every time we tried to make him face his hurt so we could fix it, he would exchange himself for his imaginary twin brother. Those times were hard to see because whenever he would hide himself inside his own body, the outer person wouldn't be Mikey anymore. I get why Mikey gave his alter-ego a name. It really is a different personality taking over their shared body. It's a very scary thing to see.
We helped him out with Richi though. And that had taken time. And when we finally managed to remove Richi from his side, Mikey himself had grown to be so closed off from the world, it's hard to get him to talk about anything that is bothering him. He talked himself into being strong, not daring to expose himself anymore because he believes he should be able to handle himself and his problems. He calls himself a baby when things get to be too much for him, for example when we need to stay with him at night.
Actually, Mikey is always ill. Not physically, but mentally. There is something in his head that tells him to act the way he does. He tries not to listen to it. To pretend it isn't there, the way he pretends his memories aren't real. He wants to be in the here and now, he wants to be happy and carefree and be part of our family. But because he won't accept what has happened to him before, he can't accept that everything that has happened to him is still part of him. At least, that is what his therapist said. He only went there once, just after we got rid of Richi and he was feeling vulnerable. We thought it would help him to talk to someone, but he won't even talk to us, let alone a stranger. Mikey's mind is like a ford. He builds walls, defenses, around the tiny bit of him that is still innocent enough to pretend nothing bad has ever happened. But every time a wall cracks, Mikey cracks with it. And it's hard to see that.
I rub my knuckles against my forehead, massaging the growing headache which always shows up when I rack my brain over this particular subject. I wish Mikey would just open up and allow someone to enter his life for once. I know as a kid he tried to let people in, and they always let him down. Doesn't he understand that we would never doe that? If only he could let go of the Mikey his mother and brother forced him to be and be our little brother instead. He deserves to be happy.
"Donnieeee?"
I look up at Mikey's face barely touching mine. He is so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. He knows how I hate that. I care about personal space, thank you very much.
"Dude, you totally zonked out for a moment. Are you trying to find a cure for cancer or something? Because this is totally the place you should. Bet ya they would be so grateful if you found the missing link."
I smile slyly at him, pushing his face out of the way, laughing harder than I probably should because this is the Mikey I like to see. I glance at the cards in front of me, and continue the chain with two of my own.
"Just thinking, doofus," I say, trying to push him back into his seat but he refuses. "About big and important things. No sit back, I don't want you peeking at my cards."
"Oh, you were thinking about me then eh?" He inquires, striking this ridiculous super-hero-like pose on a chair he's supposed to sit in, not half stand upon. "And I already saw you cards. Dude, bad hand, huh?"
"Sit down, people are staring at us," I try to sound annoyed but I can't help and laugh a bit. I jerk his arm a bit harder to get him to sit down. He does, his eyes still beaming brightly.
And before the whole scene can get too awkward, my brothers and Mr. Murakami finally decide to walk into the waiting room, Raph's ankle is freshly plastered with the same crisp white that covers every other place in this hospital, and a red gauze around it. When he sees us he grins, waving with one of his crutches and almost hits Leo on the head as he does so.
Mike runs to meet up with them, whining about the colour of the gauze Raph had chosen, claiming pink would suit Raph better and otherwise bright orange would really make his eye colour come out.
"It's on my leg, chucklehead." Raph grumbles.
When we all walk out of the hospital, I decide it doesn't really matter Mikey is still not entirely healed from his earlier life. We've come from a long way and what we've got is a lot more than we bargained for. And I mean that positively. Without Mike, our lives would've been far too boring.
We all squeeze into the car again, Mikey taunting Raph and yowling when Raph places his casted leg on top of Mikey's unprotected thigh with a loud thud. Yeah, we need him as much as he needs us.