"I feel more helpless than I have in years." -Trina, Falsettos


"Can we pretend like we're friends for a second?" Micky asked in a hopeful tone. "Please?"

Mike frowned.

"We are friends."

Micky smiled and sighed.

"Well, yeah, we are. But..." he looked down. "I just need an hour to pretend that nothing's wrong. Can we just act like we're friends again and that everything's okay?"

Mike nodded, he was feeling the same thing.

"I'll do my best."

"But be warned," Micky smirked. "The famously pessimistic Michael Nesmith might still strike."

Mike glared at him but allowed a small smile of his own to form.

"I always strike," he said. "I always bring it down...I'll try to keep it happy and light for you."

Micky let out a laugh and nodded.

They didn't say a word to one another. Neither could find a way to keep the conversation happy and light, so they didn't speak to one another. They only ordered their sandwiches and chose to eat in silence.

Silence was better than a sad conversation. They already had enough sadness.

Mike didn't mind their lack of conversation. In fact, his days were often so filled with noise that the silence was peaceful. He rarely could have a quiet moment to himself anymore due to Peter's current condition and was oddly thankful to have that moment now. He knew it wasn't Peter's fault and to blame it all on him was just wrong, but Mike was tired. It had been a little over a week, he didn't know how much longer he could take it.

Micky was different. After that night, Davy rarely spoke to him. Most of the time, Micky would do what he could to cheer him up or get him to speak. Say anything, anything at all. Davy was traumatized but he wouldn't let Micky in to help. Micky thought it might help him if he brought his friend to the counselor...only to get a call later that he could get the money back as Davy sat there in silence for the full hour. Whenever Davy did speak, it was never about what was bothering him. He had even gone back to playing chess on his own, not wanting or letting Micky back into his trust.

"How's your wife?" Micky asked when the silence became too much. Mike was in mid-bite of his hamburger and looked up from his plate, a confused expression on his face.

"My wife?"

"Yeah..." Micky said awkwardly. "Sorry, I just couldn't think of anything to say."

"Then don't say anything," Mike sighed. "And she's fine...I think..."

Micky frowned.

"You think?"

Mike smiled and tried to play it off, noticing his friend's concern.

"No, it's nothing like that, I promise. She's just away on a business trip. I haven't seen her in a while but I sometimes get a phone call or a letter or something. But I just haven't seen her so, that's-that's all I meant by that."

Micky frowned, noticing that something was slightly off about his delivery, but shrugged.

"Well, okay," he sighed. "That's good, I'm glad everything's okay."

Mike nodded.

"Do I get to meet her?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "If you want, when she's back, I'll bring her over to visit you and Davy sometime."

Micky nodded.

"I'd like that," he said with a heavy sigh.

He began tapping his plate with the fork, staring down at his untouched sandwich.

"I hope Peter's okay..." he said softly.

Mike looked up at him but didn't speak.

"I...I still haven't heard anything from Peter yet," Micky admitted, causing Mike to tense up. "I hope we didn't hurt him too bad."

Oh, Micky. But we did, Mike thought, but kept to himself.

"He's fine," he said, as if saying it aloud would make it true.

"How do you know?"

"He's been...staying with me..." He said finally, taking a sip of water to avoid Micky's look.

"Oh," Micky said, his eyes widening. "That's good."

Mike let out a sad laugh, he didn't mean to, but nodded.

"I guess..."

"Does your wife know?"

Mike sighed.

"Like I said, she's away right now-"

"But does she know that he's staying with you?"

"Well, no, she doesn't but..."

Micky seemed strangely invested in this. It took Mike a minute to realize why he was and what he was suggesting.

"Micky!"

"What?" He asked, becoming defensive. "I don't know just...the idea of you inviting your best friend to live with you while your wife is away-"

"Micky! It's not like that! Now will you stop!?" Mike snapped and Micky fell silent for a moment, frightened. Eventually he let out a sigh and allowed a small smile to form.

"At least he's talking to you...Davy hardly ever talks to me or anyone anymore."

Mike nodded and looked down, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

"You're lucky, Mike," Micky sighed, a slight tremble in his voice. "I mean, Peter's still talking to you and hanging out with you...it's nice that you two are still close..."

Mike put on a smile and nodded again. Lucky wasn't the word he'd used to describe it. It was like a price he had to pay, the burden and consequence for every bad thing he had ever done. He wasn't lucky.

"How's Davy?" Mike asked, taking a bite of his sandwich, desperately trying to change the subject. Micky frowned and stiffened, straightening up in his seat.

"I can't speak for him..." he said darkly. "I can only speak for myself."

Mike looked at him, confused and slightly concerned.

"What does that mean?"

Micky sighed and frowned, thinking about his own comment.

"I don't know..." He said finally, staring down at his plate.

"Okay."

"We're not close," Micky said sadly. "I'm losing him."

"You're not," Mike smiled, trying to be reassuring. Micky only laughed coldly.

"You're not there, Mike. You don't have the right to say."

"I know," Mike let out a sigh as he called over a waiter for the check. As he was signing it, he continued.

"You just need to give him some time...things will sort themselves out. You, Davy, and Peter will be fine, I'm sure of it."

Micky nodded and rested his head on his hands.

"So will you."

Mike smiled and laid his credit card down with the check.

No, he wanted to say. No, I won't be.