Mickey - The View From Here PART TWO - Gallavich

Enough is Enough

Shivering, I woke with a start as I felt a hand on my shoulder. Jolting into consciousness, I seized the hand and twisted in defense.

“Ow!” Ian cried before punching me with his free fist.

Realizing it was my husband’s hand in my grasp, I set him free and sat up on the makeshift bed I’d fashioned out of blankets in the back of the ambulance. “Why you sneakin’ up on me?”

“I wasn’t,” Ian argued, his breath visible in the chill as he hugged himself for warmth. “Just tryin’ to wake you up. It’s fuckin’ freezing out here. Come inside.”

I pulled my blanket up to my chin in defiance. “I’m good.”

Ian rolled his beautiful eyes in annoyance. “Can you just…I’m sorry, okay? I was drunk and jealous, and I don’t think you need to freeze to death to punish me, alright?”

“It’s not that cold,” I replied stubbornly, not yet ready to kiss and make up.

The worry on Ian’s pale face was almost unnerving, and I realized that my behavior was somehow scaring him. I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “I’m fuckin’ tired, man. We’ve been at this for over a decade and…I’m just tired. I’m not coming inside just to have you bitch at me about some ancient history that doesn’t fucking matter anymore.”

“Some of it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I grumbled.

“Not Russ,” Ian clarified. “But Yevgeny.”

“Don’t,” I warned.

“He matters to you, Mick. And I can’t go back and fix what I did, but I am so sorry. And I’m sorry for not realizing what it did to you. I forget how sensitive you are sometimes when you steel yourself. I just didn’t think you cared.”

Eyes glazing over with a numbness to suppress my sadness, I shrugged, unsure what to say.

Ian reached for my hand and I let him take it. “Come inside,” he begged again. “Warm up, and we’ll figure this out.”

“Figure what out?” I questioned, irritated.

“Us.”

When I looked at Ian in that moment, I had to wonder how deluded his brain was. Fury took hold and I crossed my arms over my chest protectively. “No.”

Ian was puzzled. “No?”

“No!” I snapped. “I’m not fuckin’ doin’ this shit with you again. The cheating, the lying, the jealousy. Give me a fucking break, man! This shit was supposed to stop. Fuck, if you don’t trust me, why the fuck did you marry me?”

Ian furrowed his brow thoughtfully. “M-Mickey, I…of course I trust you.”

“The fuck you do,” I scoffed.

“I do,” he assured me. “I just don’t trust other guys…and I know Russ meant a lot to you. I guess seeing him…it freaked me out. I have no idea what your life with him was like. Maybe it was better than this…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up!” I growled. “I chose you! And if you still can’t see that, then I guess I’m livin’ out here in the ambulance.”

“Can you stop being do dramatic?” Ian grumbled. “I love you. I trust you. I’m sorry. You’re not the only one who gets insecure, alright?”

“Who the fuck you callin’ insecure, bitch?”

Ian’s beautiful green eyes met mine with warmth and he smiled. “Come inside.”

Mellowing some, I questioned, “no more fighting?”

“No more fighting,” my husband swore with a sure expression on his face. He smiled and got out of the back of the ambulance, waiting in the snow for me to follow him. “I have an idea.”

Of course, you do.