Mickey - The View From Here PART TWO - Gallavich

Dust

*WARNING FOR DRUG USE*

I tried to smirk as my jaw tensed with anxiety. Ian, Kev, and Mandy were hanging out in the room Ian used to share with his brothers. They sat around a closed moving box with an old CD case with three thick lines of cocaine atop it.

Ian was snorting his line when Kev and Mandy noticed me. Kev gave my husband's arm a smack to alert him while my sister giggled and offered me her rolled-up twenty to take a line for myself.

Though I was a bit tipsy, I had enough wits about me to remember to be tactful. This was dangerous territory, and I had to proceed with caution. Alcohol and Ian's medications alone weren't supposed to mix. Cocaine, well, that was like adding gasoline to the fire that was my husband's wobbly mental health.

Unsure how to proceed, I decided to speak to him later, in private. With a more convincing smirk, I declined Mandy's offer and met Ian's gaze. Acting unfazed by this development, I wondered, "you see Franny around?"

The panic hitting Ian was visible in a stern expression. "You said you were watching her."

"Try Frank's room," Kev suggested. "She was in there when we walked by, like, ten minutes ago."

I gave him a nod of thanks before shooting my sister a glare. "The fuck are you doin' here anyways? I didn't even know you were in town."

Mandy laughed and sized me up with skepticism. "Geeze. At least act like you're happy to see me." She turned to Ian. "He called me. Why wouldn't I come home to support my best friend at such a difficult time."

"Frank'll never be our problem again," Ian sputtered through laughter. "I'm inconsolable."

"Oh, speaking of sisters, yours just walked in," I recalled.

His laughter halted and his hands clenched into fists. "Really? She has some fuckin' nerve. She say where the fuck she's been?"

"Oh, no," I corrected him. "Not Debbie."

"Wait. Are you fucking with us?" Kev wondered in disbelief before he tore off to reunite with his old friend.

Never a Fiona fan, Mandy rolled her eyes. "Great. Fuckin' Fiona's here."

When I noticed Ian setting up another line for himself, I wondered, "you gonna go see her? It's been a couple years, right?"

Ian shrugged. "I'm good here."

As I watched him snort another line, I tried to swallow back my anger toward him. He knew better. "Well, I think I'm ready to head home."

"Already?" Ian mocked. "The night's young, Mick. You should take out that stick up your ass and come get into some trouble with us."

"Love to," I confessed. "But someone's gotta be responsible--"

"Responsible?" Ian growled before he got in my face. "You are the least responsible--"

My hand clamped down over his mouth and he finally stopped talking. "No. I'm not doing this now," I asserted, my anger slipping through the cracks of my loving, understanding façade. "If you still have a problem when you're sober, we'll talk. Until then, just try to chill."

He pushed me away but kept quiet.

With my anger bubbling to the surface, I backed out of the room. "Have a good night. See you at home."

I shut the door behind me and sighed in defeat, hoping this was a onetime thing because Frank died. I needed it to be a onetime thing.

My next destination was Frank's old bedroom where I found Franny's tablet, but not Franny. I was about to head back downstairs when, through the window, Franny's light copper hair caught the moonlight in the yard. By the time I made it outside, I found Liam and Franny standing over a pancake-sized hole about six feet deep. In Liam's arms was a plastic bag of a grey, powdery substance I couldn't identify.

Unaware of my presence, Liam and Franny worked together to pour the contents of the bag into the hole.

Wiping his brow, Liam began to speak to the hole in the ground. "I would apologize for the turnout, but you can't be surprised no one else cares."

As I drew closer, my footing snapped a twig, blowing my cover. I wondered, "the fuck you two doin'?"

Liam motioned to the hole in the ground and a little cross forged from twigs and elastic bands stabbing into the earth. "A real funeral."

I nodded in understanding as Franny sniffled. I never realized before that week how much Frank meant to two particular Gallaghers, the same two that were often ignored.

"He didn't wanna sell the house. He loved this house," Liam continued, defensive that I would judge and tell on him. "Now he can stay."

I brought the kids back into the house and prepared to leave. In the living room, everyone continued to abide in their vices and have a good time. Fiona and V were play fighting, which most of the guys loved watching, only pausing when they crashed into the mantle, knocking everything on it to the floor before the pair landed there as well. The last item on the mantle, a vase-like item teetered before it fell, smashing to bits upon impact. A cloud of ash puffed into the air and the room fell silent.

As far as everyone knew, Frank's ashes were in that smashed urn, not in a hole in the back yard.

Each sibling in the room, aside from Liam stared at the pile of ceramic shards and ash with shock glazing their eyes.

Then, a snorting sound emanated from Fiona before she held her hand over her own mouth and burst out laughing. Lip was next to join in the laughter and soon, everyone was laughing, everyone but me, Liam, and Franny.

I arched a brow of confusion and looked to the boy for an explanation. "What'd you put in the urn?"

Pleased with himself, Liam smirked up at me and replied, "barbeque season just ended. No one will miss a bunch of dust."