Micky was aimlessly wondering around town. Much as he'd been doing everyday for the last week or….two? He wasn't really sure. He'd been losing track of time. He knew that he had frequented Al's Liquor and that scummy Irish pub, Lucky's.
And of course he'd spent a lot of time under the dock, gazing at the sea while tourists above fished or spit.
But his favorite place the last couple days was the boulder in front of Millie's.

His rock.

He'd go out and sit on it. He'd try falling asleep. He dared the ocean to take him.
He just wanted to see what would happen.
But something in him kept him awake. Maybe it was a survival instinct.

Yesterday Peter had been there.
On his rock.
Didn't he know that it was Micky's rock?
Why was he there? It looked like he was meditating. That fag.

Micky had planned on going back today to make up for lost time but instead he found himself on the bus into town.
That was weird. He didn't even remember getting on the bus.
He got off at Pacific Coast and wondered up the street trying to figure out what to do.
Then he remembered.

Ty.
He wanted to see Ty.
He hadn't seen her since he had confessed his love and made a fool of himself.

He walked until he was a block away from Neptune's. He could see the blazing sign. 'Live Seafood.'
He didn't want seafood.

He wanted Ty.

Tyfood? He thought and began laughing like a lunatic.
A couple people on the sidewalk stared at him.

Shut the fuck up Micky

He stopped laughing and stumbled towards the restaurant.
He wasn't allowed to go in anymore but that was fine. He'd wait outside. It was a free country.
He spotted Ty's car but walked toward the dumpster instead. He sat down behind it. Ty would have to bring out the trash well before she went out to her car.

He waited. He sipped on the bottle of whisky he bought at Al's.
He waited some more.

Finally the back door opened and he heard Ty laughing. "-yeah you try handling that asshole." She said to someone inside. "I'd love to see it."

She walked towards him.

His heart began to pound.
As she neared he came out from behind the dumpster.

"MICKY!?"

He'd startled her. "Hey Ty."

"Micky, what are you doing here?! You're not supposed to be here."

"I know… I needed to see you though."

She tossed her bag of trash into the dumpster. "You really shouldn't be here."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Ty's voice softened as her surprise faded. "What's up?"

"I just needed to see you."

"Why?"

"Because I love you Ty. I love you so much.

"No! Goddammit Micky!"

"Ty you are the only person that knows me… that understands me."

"No that's not true!

"Yes it is. Everyone else…everyone else hates me, but you…"

"Nobody hates you! What are you talking about?"

"Ty you don't understand…Lin…Pete…they hate me. They think things about me. And you know what else? Mike kicked me out!"

"Micky! -None of that is true!"

"You don't know."

"Yes I do!"

"What do you know?" He challenged.

"I just know what Peter told me. He said that you quit the band."

"No! They're gonna replace me!"

"Micky they can't replace you!"

"Yeah that's what I thought! But Peter said they're gonna."

"Peter told me you quit!"

"Yeah I DID!"

"WHY?"

"Because they hate me!"

"Fuck Micky! Who hates you?"

"Peter does!"

"NO he doesn't! He LOVES you!"

"You don't know shit." Micky's voice cracked.

"Yes I do! I just talked to him today!"

"Oh? …and what did he say?!"

"He said he's afraid. He's afraid he will lose you. He loves you!"

"He didn't SAY THAT!"

"YES HE DID!"

Micky shook his head. "No…no Ty… you're the only one that loves me. Peter does not love me!"

"Micky I swear on my own mother he loves you!"

"Yeah well you mother was whore. She left you to your uncle. I can't trust that."

Ty's eyes grew red. "Fuck you Micky!" Her voice was shaky.
She slammed the dumpster lid shut and ran back into the kitchen.

Micky banged his head against the wall.
Damn you Micky, you piece if shit. WHY! Why did you say that shit?!

He closed his eyes.
He wished he could just pass out. He wasn't drunk enough yet… but he would be by the time he got to his rock.

Yeah, he needed to see his rock right now.

He got up and began walking back up the street.
He looked at his watch. It was almost 7:30.
He could still catch the bus.

...

When he got to the bus stop there were a few regulars he recognized from the past few days… or weeks… or whatever.

"Hey are you doing okay?" An older woman with gray hair asked.

He'd seen her before but had never spoken.
He looked away.

"I've seen you on the bus." She persisted. "You know honey you don't look very good."

"What are you looking for a date or something?" He knew he was being cruel.

She ignored his remark. "No honey, I'm much too old for that. I just thought you looked sad. Maybe kinda lonely.

"Look lady I'm fine."
The bus pulled up. Micky quickly boarded it and sat down. He rested his face against the window.

"Do you mind if I sit with you?"

It was the lady. He looked around. There were plenty of empty seats on the bus. He didn't answer. She sat down anyway.

"Sweetheart I don't know what troubling you but I can tell that something is.

He continued to ignore her.

"My grandson, who's probably about your age, says I have a gift for seeing into people. He's been trying to get me to quit my job over at the Pop Diner and get a degree in psychology. Can you imagine a woman my age going to school?" She laughed.

Micky glanced at her.

"So, am I right? Something have you down?"

Micky sat up straight. "Why are you talking to me?"

"Why not talk to you?"

"Look I don't know you. So maybe you can read people but that doesn't mean I want to go and share my deep dark personal issues with you."

"I understand."

"I'm fucked up, ok? I've fucked everything up. You don't want to hear about it." Micky turned back towards the window.

"Wow you sure got a mouth on you don't you kid?"

Micky looked startled. He rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry. Shit… god…I'm sorry."

The woman laughed. "I'm just messing with you. I'm no angel. My ears can take it. I had you though didn't I?"

Micky smiled uneasily."Yeah I guess."

"I'm Delores." She held out her hand.

He reluctantly took it. "Micky."

"Nice to meet you." She seemed sincere. "Hey, I wasn't trying to pry. I just have a savior complex. When I see someone I think needs help I tend to jump on them. I'm sorry about that."

Micky shook his head. "Whatever. I just don't want to get into any of it. It's too confusing."

"A relationship thing?"

Micky looked annoyed. "Something like that."

"Ah yes, well relationships certainly can be confusing and complicated and unpredictable and bitter and every other god-awful thing you can think of. But you know, that's how you know they are real. That's how you know when they are worth it."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Sure it does. If everything was daisies all the time you would never be tested. You'd never grow. You would be indifferent. When shit happens and you pull through it, it makes you stronger. It makes your relationships stronger. It makes the good times better. But, the problem is that, these days people don't have the patience or insight to see beyond the bad times. They think things will never get better. They lash out. They withdrawal. They quit. But that's no good. It shows lack of character.
But that's just what I think. Would you agree?"

"You know, for not trying to pry you sure do a good job of it."

"Did I strike a nerve?"

"No." Micky said defensively.

"Well, all I'm saying is that people give up too easily. Sometimes they should give up. Sometimes it's better that way but not until you put up a hell of a fight. But, I digress. I don't even know if what I'm saying applies to you." She laughed and patted his arm.

Micky was quiet. After a while he said. "It applies… I think."

"Oh yeah?" Delores smiled. "I knew it!"

"You're a strange lady you know that?"

"Of course I know that."

Micky laughed.

They were coming up on his stop.

"Hey look, this is my stop up here."

"Oh, ok." She sounded disappointed.
"Well it's been real nice Micky." She said as the bus came to a stop. She stood up so that he could get out.

"Yeah, …it's been interesting."

"Hey Micky." Micky turned. "You know it doesn't matter what you did or how you screwed up. Relationships can always be salvaged. If you want them to be. …But it takes effort."

Micky nodded before turned and stepping off the bus.

.

Well that was weird.

He walked down Beachwood. Vincent Van Go Go's was down a block. He thought about going in but he just wasn't in the mood to be around people… especially after Delores.
He walked across the street to Al's instead.

"Back again?" the clerk asked. His name was Gerald.

"Yeah I guess." Micky said.

"You already finish off that half pint you got earlier?"

Had he been here earlier?
Of course he had. That was how he'd gotten the whisky.

"Um no." He pulled the bottle out of his jacket a bit to see what was left. He had a few ounces. "But I'm going to a party later. I wanted to stock up."

"Sure." Gerald said. "What can I get you?"

"Two more pints. Jim Beam."

He rang Micky up. "Anything else?"

"No that's all."

"Well, have fun at the party."

"Party?…Oh… -oh yeah, it will be great."

Micky walked out of the liquor store. He put the new bottles in his jacket pocket and withdrew the first.
He had a lot of drinking to do, didn't he?
Well he'd better get on it.

He stayed in the shadows as he walked down the street. By the time he got to the pad he had finished the first bottle and was almost a quarter into the second.
He stopped outside the house. He could just go in if he wanted. Crash out in his bed. Comfort, warmth.

But no… he had a date with his rock.
He looked at his watch. It was a little after 8:30. The tide was well on its way back in. He probably wouldn't make it in time. He quickened his pace and continued past the pad, down to the beach.

.

That first night when he'd gone out to the rock, the moon had been full. The sky had seemed majestic. But now it was just dark. He couldn't see much.
He didn't need to see though. By now he knew his way. He could get there in his sleep if he wanted.

When he got out side of Millie's he looked toward the sea.
He was too late. The tide was too high.
He could barely make out the top of his rock under the weak lighting.

The only way to get to it was to swim.
He didn't feel like swimming.

Shit.

Well, whatever. He'd just wait for the tide to go out again. It wasn't like he had any where to be. It wasn't like he had any obligations anymore.
He sat on the beach and continued sipping on his bottle. He was in for a long night.

He curled his knees up to his chest and looked out into the dark void of the ocean.
He felt scared. Alone.

Man how did I get here?

You walked.

He laughed at his inner voice. "Smartass." He said aloud. "That's not what I meant."

Well what did you mean then?

I meant what happened to me? Why am I self sabotaging? Why am I drinking myself stupid and flirting with death and obsessing over a rock?
How did I get here?

His inner voice didn't respond.

He chugged the rest of his bottle and opened the third.
He took a long drink and glanced at the rock. It looked so surreal. It was strange to think that whether or not the tide was out, the rock was always there. Whether it could be seen or not. It was always there.

Always waiting.

Always a constant.

Maybe that was what he'd really been seeking. Maybe that was why the rock captivated him.
It wasn't about death. He didn't want to die. He didn't want that void to take him.
Maybe he was just looking for a constant. Maybe he was just looking for stability.

"Stability." He said bitterly.

Oh fuck. Everything was going to hell. Everything he took for granted. Everything was changing…so fast.

"I sing the praise of never change, with every single breath." He sang to himself.

He laughed.
That was a good song wasn't it?

Too bad he wouldn't be singing it anymore, now that he'd been kicked out of the band…

Actually, Fuck THAT! He could sing it if he wanted! He could sing it right now!
Right now if he wanted!
He could sing it to the rock and the dark void of an ocean.

He sat his bottle down in the sand and stood.
"CAN YOU DIG IT?! DO YOU KNOW?! WOULD YOU CARE TO LET IT SHOW?!" He sang at the top of his lungs.

He began laughing at his own outrageous behavior.

Fuckhead, singing to rock.
Wow Micky! What a fucking audience.

He imagined the rock applauding. He started laughing harder. He took a bow. A wave came in. Clearly it was also applauding.

"Oh, well thank you very much mister wave." He bowed again.

As it receded his smile faded.
Why was he singing to a wave and a rock? Who gave a fuck what they thought of the song.
They weren't worthy!
They didn't even have ears!

"FUCK YOU GUYS!" He yelled. "YOU DON'T APPRECIATE THAT SONG! DON'T ACT LIKE YOU DO!

He threw one of his empty whisky bottles into the sea and let out an savage roar before collapsing to the ground.

Fucking rocks and waves!
Peter wrote that song!
Rocks and waves didn't understand!

"Peter wrote that song… man." He said aloud.
A tear slipped down his cheek."It's a fucking good song."

He brought his knees up to his forehead and buried his head in them.

Oh Peter!
What had happened to them?!

He felt his breath begin to hitch as all of his emotions surfaced.

Peter! He didn't hate Peter! He loved Peter! Peter was everything to him!

He sobbed into his knees.

Fuck Peter! Why do you hate me so much?!
Why do you hate me when I LOVE you?

He wrapped his arms tighter around his knees.

Micky, he doesn't hate you.

"He does!" Micky said out loud in a sob

No he doesn't, what's wrong with you?

Micky clamped his palms to his ears." I don't know what's wrong with me! I think I'm losing it!"

Shhh...Micky…It's okay… his inner voice said soothingly.

He wiped his eyes and grabbed the bottle he had set down in the sand. He took a few drinks.
He inhaled sharply and let it out hard.

Peter doesn't hate me?

You fucking know that you dumb shit.

Fuck! OK!

"Peter doesn't hate me!" He said alloud.

What did Ty tell you?

"That he loves me!"

And do you believe that?

"Yes… I do!" He cried out.

"So what am I going to do about it?" He whispered to himself.

He took another sip from his bottle.
Well if Delores was right he should take action! Fight for the relationship!

He tilted his bottle up and finished the whisky.