Mickey - The View From Here PART TWO - Gallavich

The Test

A few days later, Ian and I were spending the night in playing video games when Ian accidentally answered a call from an unknown number.

Laughing at his clumsiness, I paused our game and went into the kitchen for a couple more beers.

Not wanting to be rude, Ian spoke into the phone. "Hello?"

I returned to our couch with a bottle for Ian and another for myself. It was then that I could see the rush of blood rouging Ian's cheeks. "What?"

Ian's innocent eyes held a gleam of panic. Stuttering, he spoke to the caller. "H-hey, Russ. I'm great, h-how are you?"

I had no intention of having any kind of relationship with my ex, and I hated the idea of him calling my husband. Unable to stop myself, I snatched Ian's phone from his hand and let out a sigh that sounded more like a growl.

"Mickey?" Russ wondered, able to recognize my frustrated sigh through time and cellphone signals. "I was just asking Ian if you guys wanted to come to this party-""

"No," I stopped him, uninterested in his pitch. "Look, man, it was good to see you're doing well. And I'll never forget what you did for me, but I'm in a good marriage. I can't let you fuck it up."

"I'm not trying to," Russ replied. "If you're happy, then good. That's what I want. Ian's the one that gave me his number."

"He was being an asshole!" I declared, prompting Ian to crook a confused brow.

"Alright," Russ conceded for a moment. "Let me ask you this, though. Why did Ian text me asking me to call?"

My temper flared, evident in the glare I shot my husband. Trying to remain skeptical, I stated, "bullshit."

Russ chortled. "Ask him. And maybe leave me out of your drama unless I'm the one you're interested in."

As Russ and I ended the call, I gripped my husband's phone tightly in my hand. "Anything you wanna tell me?"

Ian's face was burning red as he tried to grab his phone.

I pulled away and questioned, "you reached out to him? What the fuck, Gallagher?"

Caught, Ian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Okay, yeah. But not for the reasons you're thinkin'."

With feigned amusement, I laughed dryly. "Oh, yeah? What reason could you possibly have?"

Ian bit his lip, reluctant to go on. "I just...it was stupid."

"You think?" I snapped at him. "You tryin' to fuck around with Russ now? See what it was like or some weird shit?"

"No!" my husband insisted. "I texted him when I was drunk. I thought maybe I could use the call as a test, you know?"

Instead of rage spiking my blood pressure, a pain twisted in my chest. "A test. You're tryin' to test me after everything we've been through? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Instinctively, Ian reached for my shoulder and swore, "it was a stupid mistake that I completely forgot about. I was wasted and we were fighting. You were sleepin' in the ambulance. I was scared I was losing you and I fucked up."

Before I could decide if that excuse was acceptable, a rhythm of knocking rattled our front door. Annoyed, I rushed to the door, intent on telling whoever was on the other side to fuck off. I threw the door open angrily and found myself glaring at Debbie's pale, freckled face. On one side of her stood Franny, on the other sat a pile of garbage bags doubling as suitcases.

Debbie put on a fake smile and tried to sound kind. "Hey, Mickey"

I grumbled with displeasure to myself and invited Debbie and Franny into the apartment.