The Trouble with Loving a Milkovich Part 4

A Christening and A Coming Out

Every single morning, there's a gaping hole in chest. Its almost as though somehow during the night, my brain reset itself to forget that I am now an orphan; but from the moment my eyes flutter awake until the second I get the opiates into my system, I am haunted by a dreaded ache. How its possible to physically hurt, I'll never know. But the pain is very real. The loss is very deep. As much as I hated my mother, while she was alive, there was hope. Hope is dangerous. It keeps you pacified, and pacified makes you feel safe. But you're never safe. Ever. Today, the reality of it all hits me harder than usual. Suicide crosses my mind, but I'm too apathetic (and afraid) to even attempt. Instead, I reach for a baggie, take a pinkie nail full, and snort. Heroin is near death; theres a possibility of dying that I'm attracted to. But mostly, I want this godforsaken feeling to go away. It's been apart of me for as long as I've known... my parents' deaths only bring it into sharper focus... until it fades out, only to be brought back on by the next tragedy, ad infinitum. I fucking hate being me.

Terry is getting out of prison today; Svetlana scheduled Yevgeny's baptism around this release date apparently. She rushes around the house, looking for clothes, and yelling in Russian. Traffic in and out of the bathroom is particularly heavy today. Svetlana got to the shower before me, so the last five minutes of mine are icy. "Outta hot water," I warn Collin as hes about to enter. Lifting his arms, he smells himself. "Fuck it," he shrugs, heading back to the bedroom. As I search for an outfit, he slathers on some deodorant. "Good as new," he winks at me, making me giggle. Becoming irritated, I toss a handful of clothes to the ground. "I have nothing to fucking wear to this! Ally clothes are fucking band shirts and fishnets!" Collin rifles thru his side of the closet. "Here," he says, handing me a cream colored sweater; its classy enough and on me, is the length of a knee high dress. Throwing on some fishnets underneath, I lace up my doc martens and I'm ready. "Come on," he says, seeing that I'm dressed. "We gotta pick up Mick."

The baptism itself was uneventful, other than the fact that once Ian entered, Svetlana shot Mickey daggers in front of all 11 of us. The baby was dunked and as a caravan, we headed over to the Alibi. One of Terry's brothers was on their way to get him, leaving the rest of us to set up for the party. As Collin and I hung the Wecolme Home Terry sign across the front of the bar, he looked at me. "You know," he started. "I always thought all the attention my dad was giving Mickey was fucking weird... but it's just him trynna deny who his son is." Nodding, I say nothing; I dont have to.  Once inside, we help set up the bar. Taking shots and periodic bathroom breaks makes the evening go by speedily. Before we know it, theres a commotion at the door and Terry comes walking in. With all the focus on his entrance, I look at Collin and jut my head towards the bathroom. Following my lead, we head into a stall, close the door, and each pull put a baggie. Making a few lines on the tank of the toilet seat, he rolls up a dollar bill and hands it to me. Snorting two, I wait for him to finish his before I turn around, lean over so that my ass is on his dick, tear a hole in the crotch of my fishnets and feel his hard dick as it goes inside of me. The mixture of cocaine and heroin makes it hard for either of us to come, so we just fuck in the toilet stall until we cant stand anymore. Leaving the rest room, we hear the music stop. Paranoia overtakes me thoughts and for a brief moment, I'm afraid this is our intervention. Much to my surprise, Mickey is standing in the middle of the room. "Excuse me," he starts, a defiance in his voice. Curiosities piqued, a hush befalls the bar. "I just wanted everyone here to know that I'm fucking gay. A big ol' mo. Just thought everyone should know." He stares at the Ian,  who wears a look of awe and pride on his face. A tear starts to rise in the corner of my eye and I let out a WHOOP! Something about this display of endearment triggers Terry back to life. Before our eyes, he's attacking Mickey. They swing and land a few punches each before Terry has Mickey on the ground. Ian charges over and tackles Terry off of Mick. Collin stands in shock as they fall before his feet. Terry's brother smashed a chair across Ian's back. "Holy fuck!" Ian screams, before tackling him. At this point, its evident that these guys aren't gonna fight fair. Collin and I turn to each other, give a quick nod, then set to helping Ian and Mickey fight off the oldest set of Milkovich brothers. Chairs and glasses fly; fists meet body parts. At one point, I get cold cocked in the nose by Terry, who then gets swung on by both Collin and Mickey. Eventually, sirens sound outside, signaling for everyone except Mickey and Terry to stop fighting. The two go at it even as they're placed in cuffs. Once the scuffle is brought outside the bar, I head over to Collin and assess his various injuries. "Just a couple flesh wounds," he shrugs, smiling at me thru bloodied teeth. Fueled by the rush of the moment and the speedball, I start to laugh. Seeing the welcome home sigh on the floor, I pick it up. "Anybody got some paint?"