Chapter Seven
Clarity in Conversation

NOVEMBER 24TH, 2000
The Day After Thanksgiving

0300 EST
APARTMENT OF SARAH MACKENZIE
GEORGETOWN

Sixteen-year-old Mic Brumby was just like any other teenager; he made many mistakes. He didn't remember many of them now, but one mistake still stuck out to him, even after twenty years. It was something so bad that, when it had happened, Mic didn't know what else to do other than to do what any other little boy did when he was scared; run back to his mother.

He took the car out without asking.

The now thirty-six-year-old Mic Brumby was sitting in Mac's kitchen, unable to sleep because Mac's sofa was not comfortable in the slightest. The hole in his left hand was now stitched-up and bandaged after a five hour ER visit-Mic made a mental note to avoid getting stabbed on a major holiday from then on. In addition to that, Mic and Mac practically had to stand on their heads in order to convince the doctor that the police didn't need to be contacted.

They'd laughed it off, saying that it was "just a harmless cooking accident" and did a surprisingly good job at lying, too. All the while, Louise was giving him that look she always gave him. The "I can't believe you're doing this, Michael" look. Or, "How did you let yourself get in this situation, Michael?" "I expected so much more from you, Michael." "Are everything I've done for you, Michael, and this is how you repay me?" Michael, Michael, Michael, Michael, Michael-

"Michael."

Mic jumped, cursing under his breath as his mug fell through his grip, clanging into the sink below. He was going to wash it, but he got sidetracked and-

He took the car out without asking.

"Did I scare you?" Louise walked into the kitchen. Mic tried to cover up his blunder by running his fingers through his hair, wincing when he realized his was using his injured hand.

"No," he shook his head, stretching his fingers out and grimacing. The initial bandage had been thicker, but Mic had taken the top few layers off because they were cumbersome and, in his opinion, unnecessary.

"Let me see your hand," Louise reached out for Mic's hand. He initially drew away, but Louise gave him a look that made him hold his hand out. She took his hand gently, turning it over so it was palm side up.

"Oh Michael…"

There it was again. Michael. There was a reason he'd started going by Mic after he moved out. It was because he couldn't stand hearing "Michael" anymore. Especially after hearing his mother call him that his entire life, using that snide, disapproving tone of hers. Nothing Michael had ever done for his mother had been good enough. Ever. Not one thing.

The reason Mic didn't have much sympathy for Mac getting upset about having to jump through Louise's hoops was because he'd had to jump through her hoops since the day he was born. The hell Mac had been put through the past six days was Mic's entire life.

It wasn't like he could get away from it either, not with what his mother knew about him. Not after his mother knew that he took the car out without asking when he was sixteen.

Louise looked up at Mic. She reached up to cup his cheek. Her touch was gentle but it was not loving. "Are you sure you're not making a mistake with this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Mic nodded. "I'm sure."

Flashback-November 1980
Sydney, Australia

When Mic came stumbling up the driveway, Louise was waiting for him in the kitchen, wrapped up in her pink robe. As soon as she heard the screen door swing open and bang shut, she was on her feet, propelling herself towards her son.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, her tone pure ice.

"I-I took the c-car out with-without asking," Mic answered, his voice trembling. Louise rolled her eyes and switched on the lights.

"Well I know that-"

Louise froze when she saw her son under the harsh kitchen lights. He was crying, his tears mixing with the blood dripping down his face from the gash on his forehead. There was also a cut on his bottom lip and the beginnings of a black eye forming under his right eye. Light, orangish-red bloodstains were splotched on the front of the gray sweatshirt. His hair was matted down with blood because his hands were covered in it. He kept running his fingers through his hair-something he always did when he was nervous.

Taken aback for a few seconds, Louise stared at Mic. Mic stared back, a wide, terrified look in his eyes. She hated when he had that look on his face-like some frightened animal. Louise's first instinct wasn't to comfort him, but to find out what mess he'd made that she'd have to clean up.

"Michael, what did you do?" she asked. The question made him start crying again, and Louise had to bite back her irritation. Even when he was a little, she couldn't stand listening to him cry-it was infuriating.

"I was-I took t-the car out-"

"I know that!" Louise snapped. Her tone caused Mic to flinch, stifling his sob into a whimper. "What did you do?"

"I was dr-driving and I-I was going t-too fast and she-she came out of n-nowhere," Mic explained through gulps and sniffles. "I don't-I don't even know why she was out that late."

"Michael-"

"I couldn't h-hit the b-brakes in time," Mic's expression began to crumble again. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Fuck," Louise muttered, watching Mic as he went to go run his fingers through his hair again. With a sigh of exasperation, she took Mic by the wrist and dragged him over to the sink.

"Mum, what are you doing?"

Louise didn't answer as she turned the faucet on. Ignoring Mic's hiss of pain, she ran his bloody palms, first one, then the other, under the running water. The water washed the blood away and revealed the small shards of glass stuck in his hands.

"Who was it?"

"I think." Mic swallowed. "I think she was-she was Mrs. McKenna from down-down the street. I go to school with her d-daughter, Lucy-"

"Is she alive? Do you know?" Louise demanded.

"I-"

Louise tightened her grip on Mic's wrist. "Yes or no, Michael. Just tell me."

"I don't know," Mic answered meekly, knowing Louise wouldn't like that answer. She sighed in frustration, releasing Mic's wrist as if he was something that disgusted her.

"Where did you wreck?" Louise asked. As Mic told her where, Louise walked out of the kitchen and headed for the staircase.

"Mum, where are you going?" Mic asked, following after her because he didn't know what else to do. As strained as their relationship had always been, Mic would still try and seek out a bit of Louise's approval or affection at every possible opportunity.

Louise whirled around. "I'm going to clean up your mistakes, like I always have to do," she hissed. Taking another look at him, she grimaced. "And for God's sake, clean yourself up while I'm gone."

Rich got home from a business trip about five hours later, and as soon as he got home, he knew something was wrong. The first thing he noticed was one of the cars missing from the driveway. When Rich opened the door, he walked into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee, but he froze in the entryway.

Sitting on the floor, with his back to the cabinets and knees drawn up to his chest, was Mic. He was staring at something not there, and didn't even notice Rich standing there. He had a wide-eyed, wounded look on his face, and the first thing Rich wondered was what Louise had done.

"Son?" he asked, taking a small step towards him. "What's wrong?"

Mic's wide eyes turned to him, and Rich noticed the bandage across his forehead. "I'm sorry," was all Mic said, his voice hoarse. "I didn't mean to."

Being the only parent to ever show overt concern for his son, Rich rushed over to him. Mic shakily got to his feet, and Rich noticed him briefly glance towards the backyard. Placing both of his hands on Mic's shoulders, Rich looked him in the eye and asked, "What happened?"

Mic took a shaky breath, and tears began to well up in his eyes once again. "I'm s-sorry," he buried his face into Rich's chest. "I didn't mean to."

Wrapping his arms around his son, Rich asked. "What did she do, son?"

"I didn't do anything, darling."

Mic jumped and Rich looked up. Louise was standing on the other side of the kitchen table, dressed in her pink robe. Judging by her appearance, it was a normal day. But Rich new better. Rich knew his wife as an excellent liar.

"What happened?" Rich asked. Unable to look at his mother, Mic turned away, staring out into the backyard. Slowly, Rich followed Mic's gaze. In the backyard, behind the pool, there was a fresh mound of dirt.

"Nothing happened," Louise shrugged and got to her feet, walking over to them. "I just decided to plant some more hydrangeas. Isn't that right, Michael?" she reached out to cup Mic's cheek, but he drew back. Rich noticed how he was clutching at his suit jacket and knew something horrible had happened.

He looked down at Mic. "Is that true?" he asked. Mic slowly nodded.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Mic finally spoke. "I'm sure."

"Someone also stole one of the cars last night," Louise said. "I thought you should know that."

Present Day-November 2000
Georgetown, Virginia

For someone having a stick shoved up their ass 24/7, Louise didn't mind sleeping in. Neither did Mic. Like mother, like son, Mac thought warily as she stepped out into the living room. It was almost 0900, which was the latest she'd been able to sleep in that whole week. She heard Mic and Louise up at some ungodly hour, which could explain why they were still sleeping.

Mic had even walked Jingo, a kind gesture Mac hadn't been expecting after committing an accidental stabbing. She had been the only one taking Jingo on walks ever since the garden party where Mic had pitched a fit and heroically announced he was not a dog walker. The surprise was welcome, but Mac would lying if she said it didn't make her a little suspicious. Rich and Louise were leaving the next day, so Mac suspected it was Mic's premature attempt at trying to clean up the mess they'd made.

Mic was already rewarding her with the one thing Mac wanted more than anything: space. He silently decided to sleep on the sofa after they got home from the ER.

The door to the guest room was closed, so Mac was surprised to see Rich sitting at the dining room table, sipping a cup of coffee. Seeing Mac take a step back in surprise, Rich smiled. "Good morning," he greeted.

"Hi Rich," Mac replied, looking down to make sure her robe was fully closed-she really had thought she was the only one up.

"Hello Sadie-Mac," Rich quickly corrected himself. "I brewed a pot of coffee."

Mac turned to look at the coffee maker next to the toaster. There was a full, steaming batch of black coffee in the pot. She wanted to take some, but she had a feeling the tiredness she was feeling wouldn't go away with a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, I'll get some later," Mac slid into the seat across from Rich. The two of them sat in silence, the only sound in the whole apartment being the ticking of the clock and the sound of Mic snoring from the sofa.

"It's been a hell of a week, hasn't it?" Rich asked, and Mac was surprised by how different his tone was. Mac felt like this was the first time since meeting him that Rich was talking because he genuinely wanted to, not just to fill up silence.

"Yeah," Mac nodded. There was no need for lying or putting up any happy fronts-not after yesterday. Yesterday was proof enough that everyone was indeed fucking miserable.

Rich sighed. He was the quietest Mac had ever seen him. "I tried my best," he said, looking off in the distance at something Mac couldn't even begin to see.

"What?"

"I know it won't make up for the past week, but I tried my best," Rich picked up his mug, then sat it back down without drinking anything from it.

"With what?" Mac asked.

"Michael," Rich answered frankly. Mac blinked. She knew firsthand that Mic wasn't perfect, but she didn't think he was bad enough of a person that he needed apologizing for.

"Rich, you don't need to apologize," Mac said. Jingo came jingling into the dining room, snuffling around Rich before finally finding his way over to Mac. He rested his head on her thigh. Mac looked down at him gratefully and scratched him behind the ear. "Mic's a grown man, he can apologize for himself-"

Rich held up a hand and Mac paused. "It's just...his mother's always been…"

"Polarizing?" Mac offered. Rich smirked, shaking his head.

"I was going to say a royal bitch," he replied. "But I suppose polarizing is a better word."

"Coffee's made you honest," Mac observed. Jingo gently thumped his tail in agreement.

Rich chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it has," he drummed his fingers on the table surface. "I shouldn't apologize, but I am. Because I should've done something."

"What do you mean?" Mac asked. Part of her was telling herself not to pry, but the more persuasive part of her wanted to know what she was marrying into.

"Louise has always been like this," Rich answered with a shrug. "She didn't become like that overnight. And with Michael...sometimes I think she purposely never gave him approval."

"Really?"

Rich nodded. "Yeah, I do. Of course I'm not guiltless, I was his father. I could've done something. I could've stopped her, or left and taken Michael with me, I don't know," he looked up at Mac from his coffee cup. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, I couldn't blame you."

Mac furrowed her brow. "For what?"

"If you didn't marry him."

"Rich, I-" Mac paused, trying to find the right words. "I never said I wasn't planning on marrying him."

"You didn't have to say anything," Rich told her. "And I really couldn't blame you, that's not a lie."

Mac looked down to hide her blush. "Oh," she said quietly. "Well, thank you."

"You're welcome."

The silence returned, and Mac's focus was once again brought back to Mic's snoring. As stupid as it sounded, especially after the week from hell, she did care about him. They had good times and good memories, just like any other couple. The weekend she visited him in Sydney a couple of months before he moved there had been the best weekend she'd had in a while.

What she didn't love though, was him waiting until the weekend before his parents arrived to tell Mac they were coming. Especially since he'd spent months planning it. Mac had called the restaurant they went to Tuesday night and asked around-he'd made the reservation in early September. She didn't love the fact that he'd cajoled her into becoming his fiancé by threatening to leave her. She didn't love that he moved across the world without telling her. She didn't love how jealous he was of Harm for just existing. She didn't love how he guilt-tripped her into doing things for him and then spun the truth to turn her into the bad guy. She didn't love how he offered her a ring in Sydney that he knew she wouldn't-couldn't refuse.

Most of all, she didn't love how he was never comforted her. She cried while baking that stupid pie for his stupid mother, and he was in the next room, asleep. She'd cried after the dinner on Tuesday, and he'd had the nerve to ask her why. She cried on the way home from that garden party where she felt like a yard ornament and he'd ignored her, then sneered at her when he thought she wasn't looking. Whenever Mic was upset about something, Mac had to bend over backwards. But whenever Mac was upset, Mic was nowhere to be found.

Sure, his mother was uncaring and maybe that was why he was so cold at times, but he'd had plenty of time to undo whatever wreckage his mother had caused. He also was fully aware that it wasn't okay to take that out on his fiancé.

It occurred to Mac, without her even truly realizing it, that Mic didn't care. He couldn't see past himself to even think about caring for Mac.

"I couldn't blame you if you didn't marry Mic."

With Rich's blessing in mind, Mac knew what she had to do

So this chapter is a little more serious, but it was needed to achieve the ending I wanted. There's going to be two chapters left, so the end is in sight! It's not that I'm eager to finish this story-it's genuinely been a blast to write, and I'm gonna miss it-but I always get excited about being able to finish one project and move on to a new idea. Also, this story took a lot longer to finish than what I was originally banking on.

With this chapter, my original idea was to give Mic a semi-redemption arc, but then I re-watched the garden party scene from Florida Straits and decided he didn't deserve one. That scene by itself was enough to make me dislike his character. I think the big reason why I dislike that scene so much is because of how realistic it is, because we've all met an arrogant man who thinks the world revolves around him-I know I've met multiple. Toxic masculinity, ladies and gents, its everywhere.

Anyway, with that mini-rant out of the way, thank you so much reading! I'm so glad I've been able to make so many of you laugh!

-Harper