Chapter Eleven: Mama

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Ian screamed and jumped up from his position in the cafeteria chair at the usual back table. "What the fuck, man?"

Lip sat down his fork and licked his bottom lip, eyes moving quickly, darting around as he stared at the marble. Searching for a right way to excuse himself, no doubt.

Tate frowned and pulled Ian back into his seat. And Ian complied, but only because he knew Tate couldn't stand when the Gallagher family started a scene.

A week had passed since Ian and Frank's fight. Fiona had finally started getting worse. The doctor's had her on oxygen now, and she was on a liquid only diet. Hooked up to more machinery than Ian thought was probably necessary. No one ate around her ever now, which was precisely why Tate, Ian, and Lip resorted, today, to a diet of ninety percent cafeteria garbage. Well, except for Tate, who rarely ate at all because, as he said, he was preparing for his shooting next month. Production on his play had been bumped up. Probably why he was in a better mood. Tate mistakenly thought they were leaving soon.

Lip finally sighed and, running his hands through his hair, said, "I thought we had enough to worry about."

"She was my best friend," Ian said, dumbfounded. "Have you been to see her?"

"Before you came, but not since," Lip said.

Ian stood up, waving his arms out in exasperation. "I'm going to see her," he said. "What room is she in?"

Then Lip looked up and on second thought said, "Six seventy. But I walked by her room earlier. The door was open and I was going in, but Mickey didn't look like he wanted company."

Ian felt his heart skip at the mention of Mickey's name. This apparently did not go unnoticed by Lip. Tate was oblivious as he texted someone. Supposedly his agent. Ian sat back down. "Mickey's here right now?" he couldn't stop himself before he asked.

Lip frowned. "Why do you care?"

"Because," Ian said as he played with his fries, "I ran into him at the Alibi last week. He picked a fight with me," he lied, "So I've been trying to avoid him."

It was a lame excuse and Ian knew it. Lip also suspected, but left well enough alone.

Later, and for a second time that day, Mickey was standing at the foot of his sister's bed. He had come and gone earlier. Went outside and huffed down three cigarettes. Walked the block. Went into a random bar and had a couple shots. And now he was back, slightly numb from the alcohol. Glad for it. He hadn't visited Mandy since they put her in this room. After that day, Mickey just didn't have the will to make himself come back. Yet here he was; finally, now that April was closing in. And Mandy of course hadn't changed. She was still in a coma. Still lying flat on her back and looking like she was just asleep. Like she would wake up any second. But the feeding tube and IV drip told otherwise.

Mickey sighed and removed his scarf. He tossed it in the corner along with his jacket. He shook the raindrops from his hair. His sweater clung to his front slightly from being damp and he rung it out some. The water puddled a little. He figured Mandy wouldn't mind, seeing as she was incapable of tripping through it right now. When he was satisfied, he plopped down in the uncomfortable wooden chair near the door. He leaned forward and cupped his hands, just watching his sister's chest rise and fall.

He wasn't sure what time it was, since there was no clock in the room. He used this as his excuse to himself when he eventually moved the chair beside of Mandy's bed and turned the television on to game show re-runs.

Mandy had always liked this shit. He was just watching it because the time was shown at the bottom corner. And because he was pretty good at guessing the answers to Family Feud.

At six o'clock, Mickey put his coat and scarf back on and left Mandy's room, leaving the television on. Kevin's bitch had said something about persons in a coma being able to hear things. Mickey didn't know if it was true, and wasn't going to sit there beside Mandy, talking. But if it was true, he figured Mandy would rather hear game shows, anyway.

When he stepped out into the rain again and looked back up in the direction of where Mandy's room was somewhere located, Mickey didn't think he would come back for a while.

He turned his attention to his pocket and fished out his smokes. He had a few left, and popped one between his lips. Then patted himself down for his lighter. He remembered throwing his coat down in the hospital, and assumed the lighter probably fell out.

"Shit," he mumbled, now surveying the area for another smoker.

He spotted one near the side of the building, back facing Mickey and smoke surrounding the person's form as he shivered in the rain, hood tight against his head. Mickey walked over, cigarette still in position. He spoke when he was a foot behind the other man. "Hey," he said, "you got a light?"

The man turned, head dipped as if trying to shield himself from the rain. The curls against his forehead were drenched and sticking to him. His mouth hung fish like around his own burning cigarette. He reached up and pulled it from his mouth, flicking the ash some.

Mickey laughed and rolled his eyes a little. "Saw you walk by my sister's room earlier," he said.

Lip breathed out smoke and nodded. He and Mickey had been running into each other a lot lately; since Lip had become a regular at the Alibi when Frank wasn't there. Sometimes even when he was. But Lip hadn't been about to tell his brother that.

"Yeah," Lip coughed. He sniffed because the rain was getting to his sinuses. "How is she?" he asked and held out a yellow lighter.

"Same," Mickey said and grabbed at the offered lighter. He lit up puffed at the menthol cigarette until it lit properly, damp sort of from the few raindrops that had hit it. "But then," he said as he inhaled then blew out, "you should know. You're there all the time."

Lip switched the direction of their conversation, "What made you decide to come by?"

Mickey shrugged. "Fuck if I know," he mumbled. "Curious."

Lip smirked, hearing the lie in Mickey's tone. "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"Headed that way now," Mickey said as he straightened out his scarf and began walking away.

Lip finished his smoke as he watched Mickey distancing himself only to disappear into a cab. He flicked out the butt and trotted back through the entrance.

Ian watched as Lip entered Fiona's room. He smelled strongly of smoke. Lip stood beside Jimmy as the brother-in-law stroked Fiona's sleeping head.

"They knock her out again?" Lip asked Ian, looking away from the display.

Ian nodded in silent response. Moments passes as Lip made himself comfortable on the floor near Ian. Finally, the older brother looked around the room, and as if he had just noticed the other person standing near the window, said, "Where have you been, Carl?"

Without turning, Carl cleared his throat and began his voiced reenactment of his time missing. And when he finished, even Jimmy was looking at him in shock, turned away from Fiona to watch the words fall from Carl's mouth. See the tears in the young man's eyes.

"She what?" Ian breathed. His heart pounded in his chest, threatened to erupt. He could only here the blood pumping in his ears. Beside of him, Lip looked as if he were about to scream. Because Ian guessed lip had run out of tears for Monica a long time ago. All the older man had left now was rage and disappointment.

Carl sat down on the wall and looked at his sleeping sister. Watched her large belly. "That's why Frank was in here the other day," he finally said, voice strained. "I beat it out of him."

Ian found himself breathing heavily through his mouth as his head went fuzzy.

"How long has she been. . ." Jimmy trailed, unsure of how to word his thought.

Carl looked at Lip, who was staring hard at Fiona. "Two days," he croaked.

And just as Lip was about to speak, Fiona's door opened and Tate waltzed in holding Liam's hand. Debbie stood beside of the tall Blonde, holding out a box of doughnuts. Smiling ear to ear. "I know we agreed not to eat in here," she said, "but Fiona told me it was okay just the once."

With the door opened still behind them, the trio stared at the glum people before them. Debbie's smile slowly faded and Tate asked what was wrong now.

And Lip finally spoke. His voice was hardened. "Our mother killed herself."