Mickey - The View From Here PART TWO - Gallavich

What A Bash

Franny loved riding the train. Because of this and the appeal of a short walk in the fresh air, we headed down the block to the station and boarded the El back to the West Side. Although she wanted desperately to stay awake during the train ride, Franny fell asleep with her head resting on my bicep.

I could feel myself smiling as I readjusted to wrap a protective arm around her. Franny had only lived with Ian and I for a few days at this point, but I found myself inclined to think of all that talk of babies we’d been circling around. The prospect of being a dad was still fucking terrifying, but I had to wonder; could I do anything to screw Franny up any more than Debbie already had? I wasn’t sure I could.

My niece put on a brave face in her mother's absence. She was young, yet she accepted these new circumstances with ease. She never asked about Debbie, seemingly aware that Debbie wasn’t asking about her. But, then, maybe her mother was just a smaller issue right now. Franny didn’t miss her mom. It was Frank she was missing.

She woke up as we pulled into our station, rubbing her bright eyes before taking in the lights and shops of the West Side.

“Did you have fun?” I asked her as we descended the platform steps to the street below.

Franny lifted her small shoulders in a shrug before she placed her hand in mine, an afterthought of safety.

“Yeah,” I sighed mournfully. “Me neither.”

“Why not?”

I leveled with the child. “Made me think of my dad.”

Franny stared up at me as we walked home at a leisurely pace, waiting for me to elaborate.

“He died, too. Like, a few weeks ago.”

She looked forward and furrowed her brow in thought. “Is he in heaven with grandpa?”

It was adorable she thought Frank could get into heaven, so I left her with the illusion. “No way. Terry’s getting a pitchfork in the ass while he walks through fire. And he fuckin’ deserves it.”

This made the tiny Gallagher chuckle. “He wasn’t nice,” she assumed.

I bobbed my head. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“Maybe your daddy knows my daddy,” Franny proposed. “Mommy says my daddy is burning in hell.”

“Jesus,” I cringed. I didn’t know much about Derrick, Franny’s dad, who had died while serving in the military. I only knew that Franny was kept away from her father’s side of the family either out of fear of losing custody, or just plain bad blood. Reeling for an answer for her, I said, “doubt it. I didn’t know your dad, but you know, he probably wasn’t so bad. At least not as bad as mine.”

Suddenly, Franny’s face lit up and all talk of death and a fantasy afterlife dissolved away. “Ice cream!”

I could hear Ian’s voice in my head, nagging, “too much sugar before bed!”

To spite this voice, I took my wallet from my pocket and approached a small kiosk in front of our building. “What flavor?”

“Chocolate!” she nearly squealed with glee.

“One chocolate cone, one strawberry,” I requested from the man at the ice cream kiosk.

As he turned away to prepare my order, I caught the glint of something dark and fast in my peripheral vision before sharp bolts of pain burst from the back of my skull.

Franny screamed, frozen in place out of my field of view as my knees buckled and I dropped. Touching the back of my head stirred agony, leaving my fingers sticky with blood and glass.

I was hit again, causing my vision to narrow until all I could see was black and all I could hear were Franny’s helpless cries of terror.