Mickey - The View From Here PART TWO - Gallavich

The Grump

Ian and I spent the holidays with the other Gallaghers, keeping busy with Christmas trees, cooking, gifts, and general family drama. Fiona was still in town, finding success in real estate and currently dating an eligible bachelor that, to our knowledge, seemed okay. Large families are great when you’re trying to keep busy.

When the holidays winded down and Ian and I were back in our apartment alone, Ian tried to point out the bright side to our current situation.

“We have privacy,” he pointed out. “We can fuck in the living room again. I know you love that chair…”

Lying next to my husband in bed, I feigned a smile of agreement before I turned on my side, my back facing him.

“Lip wants to know if we wanna go out to dinner with him and Tammy this weekend. They had reservations with Cammy and Brad, but one of their kids has the flu so they cancelled. It’s that steakhouse you always talk about, but something always gets in the way, and we never end up going. We should, right?”

“Sure,” I mumbled before confessing, “I don’t care. Whatever you wanna do.”

“I think it would be good to get out of the house,” Ian said. “Nice restaurant, good food, good company. I’m gonna say yes.”

“Cool,” I sighed with absolutely no enthusiasm.

“I don’t get why this is hitting you so hard,” Ian admitted, observing the misery I had been trying to hide all week. He had let me stew long enough about Debbie taking Franny to live with her. “Franny doesn’t even live that far. She could walk here if she needed to.”

“Mhm,” I said, hoping that would be enough for Ian to leave me alone. The problem wasn’t only about our niece, who I had grown pretty attached to, it was the mountain of pent-up emotions and mistakes that her absence caused to crumble down on me. I worried about Franny, but it was so much more than that. My mind was back in the Milkovich house, replaying everything I did wrong as a father, and how I would probably never be a father again. Maybe I didn’t deserve to be. I had taken my son for granted, only realizing how much he meant to me just as he was taken away. I had dumb questions racing through my mind, like, what if I had kicked Ian out when his bipolar got bad? Sure, I wouldn’t have the life, or the wonderful husband I had now, but maybe I would know Yevgeny, maybe I would have figured out how to be a good dad. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. None of it mattered now. It hadn’t mattered for a long time.

So, why did it make my chest hurt so much?

Noting that I wasn’t in a chatty mood, Ian began scrolling through his phone, tapping away while I closed my eyes, ready for the day to be over.

“Hmm,” Ian mused to himself. “Now, that is interesting.”

My eyes fluttered open in annoyance, an inkling to what my husband was up to causing my defenses to shoot up. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he replied, clearly wanting me to probe further.

I growled into my pillow before turning to face him. “You looked up Svetlana.”

Surprised by my accusation, Ian held his phone protectively to his chest. “No…”

“Liar.”

He hesitated. “Do you wanna know what I found? It’s juicy.”

“No.”

Ian grinned and cuddled up to me. “C’mon. You don’t need to get all grumpy about it. Let me spill the tea. She’s—”

“I said I didn’t wanna know. Can you shut the fuck up about it now?” I snapped, a desperate rage sparkling in my eye. When Ian said nothing in response, I turned my back to him again and closed my eyes. “Good.”