Heart Out [Michael Clifford]

26. Then

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:

It was Sunday night, and I had just got out of the shower. I was combing through my wet hair in my cotton short pajamas, paired with a matching shirt. I was listening to my favorite band, Arctic Monkeys, singing along to every single song, when there was a sudden knock on my door. Before I could respond, my mom had already come in.

"Michael is downstairs." She announced. "He's really upset."

"Send him up." I said, tying my wet hair up into a bun. Michael was in my room before long, and before I could say anything, I pulled him into a hug. His eyes were red and puffy, and he smelt like cigarettes. I was surprised when I heard him cry. I had never had a guy cry in front of me before.

He was having a complete meltdown, and I was not entirely sure what it is that I could do to help.

"Oh, baby." I cooed, rubbing his back and leading him to my bed. He sat down, and I sat right next to him, keeping a comforting arm around him. I could tell that he was trying really hard to control his breathing. I stood in between his legs, rubbing his shoulders to help calm him down.

"Baby, what's going on?" I asked, crouching down in front of him so that I could look him in the eyes. Seeing the sheer pain in his eyes broke my heart.

"I-it's exactly a y-year today. A year since she died." He cried. I knew he was talking about his mom. He didn't speak about her much. But he was starting to open up to me a lot more, and it was nice to know that our relationship was moving forward seeing as he had come to me in this state.

"Breath, baby. Just breath." I said, massaging his shoulders. "Look at me, Mike." I said, and he looked up from his hands, looking into my eyes and taking slow and steady breaths. I leaned my forehead against his, while he continued to breath slowly. He had calmed down, but I continued to massage his shoulders, and he did not take his eyes away from mine.

"Do you want some water?" I offered, speaking softly. He nodded his head, and I stood up and quickly got him a glass of water. He had his head in his hands when I came back to my room. I tapped his shoulder and handed him the glass of water, and he thanked me. I sat beside him, rubbing slow circles in his back.

"Is it okay if I stay here tonight?" He asked.

"Sure, baby." I said, kissing him on the cheek. "Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked after a while. I didn't expect him to agree to talking to me about this, but he nodded. I grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from one of my drawers. I took a cigarette for myself, and handed one to him. I opened my bedroom window so that we wouldn't suffocate from all of the cigarette smoke.

"What about your mom?" He asked after I had lit my cigarette and passed him the lighter.

"We smoke together sometimes." I shrugged. "She really doesn't mind smoking in the house."

He lit his cigarette, and we sat on the floor, leaning against my bed. He stared up at my walls, taking occasional drags from his cigarette. I stared at my walls too, not wanting to stare at him and make him feel pressured into talking.

"My mom," he started, "she was diagnosed with cancer when I was like ten or eleven. I didn't really understand the illness at the time, nor did I know that it was terminal."

He was silent for a while. I grabbed his hand and started to play with his fingers and fiddle with his bracelets. I was not going to rush him. I wanted him to take his own time in telling me this.

"Her health started to deteriorate because she wasn't taking her medication. She didn't want me to worry, you know. I was just a little kid. But then my dad left, and we were left on our own. We were living in Perth at that time, and then we moved here after dad left. She was getting worse everyday, and I was the only one who was there to help her." He paused again.

"Where was Jamie?" I asked.

"She was living and working in South Africa at the time. It was just mom and I. She was trying so hard to be strong for me, but I just knew that things were getting worse. I missed so many days of school in year seven, that I was held back. Mom told me that I needed to focus on my studies and stop worrying about her so much, because education was really important. The next year, when I redid year seven, I tried to work harder in school. I wanted to do better. For her.

I didn't have any friends anymore, because all of my friends were in Perth. I didn't care much for a social life, anyway. I just needed my mom to get better. I gave her a bath every morning before I went to school, made breakfast, and made sure that she took her medication. Every day when I got home, I started on dinner, sat with her while I did my homework.

Everything just got harder as time went, because she was getting worse. She had lost a lot of weight. She would cough up blood, and mess herself. There were times when I would come home from school, and she would be lying in her own puke. It's just something that a young kid shouldn't have to go through."

By this time, we were both in tears. I could not believe that he had been through all of that. All alone. I couldn't even begin to imagine what it must have felt like to see your mother like that. It made so much sense why Michael was the way that he was in school. He wasn't just a quiet kid. He was a sad kid.

"Last year," he continued, "I came home from school, and she had thrown up on herself, and she was coughing up so much blood. I cleaned her up, and gave her her medication and got to making dinner, but when I went back to give her food ..." he stopped, choking on his tears. "When I got back to her room ..."

"It's okay, baby." I soothed, rubbing his back.

"I thought she was just asleep." He cried. "But she was gone."

He leaned into me, and I wrapped my arms tightly around him, both of us being careful not to light each other on fire with our cigarettes.

"I'm so sorry, Mikey." I comforted, unsure of what else to say. We stayed that way for a while. He wasn't really crying anymore. I could feel his heart beat, and to me it felt like it was wounded.

Michael was broken.

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(picture is Alex)