Stay Beautiful Keep It Ugly

Mikey's Past: Chapter 9

        “Tori!” I barely heard Mikey call from behind me because I had both ear buds in and my music was on full blast. I spun around and watched Mikey run from his front door to where I was standing.

“Hey, Mikes,” I said, turning off my music. I glanced back at his house to see if Mikey’s brother was coming.

“My brother is still getting ready. I have to wake him up every morning, and I woke him up a little late today,” Mikey spoke. I blushed, knowing that Mikey knew what I was waiting for.

“Sorry, Mikey. I just want to know who your brother is, that’s all,” I apologized.

“No need to be sorry. Maybe you’ll meet him at lunch… but probably not,” Mikey told me sadly, then turned his head away.

“Why? Mikey, is something wrong?” I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder. I heard Mikey sniffle before I realized that he was crying.

        “Mikey,” I wrapped my arms around him, giving him a hug.

“My brother has been drinking. He goes out every night and gets fucking drunk before coming home at two in the morning. The nights he works, I don’t see him drunk, unless he is at school or if I gotten to his work before he leaves. He smokes all the fucking time, and he ditches all his classes except his third hour class. I can’t remember the last time he was sober when he comes home… except yesterday,” He steadily got louder and angrier, but added the last part quietly.

          I pulled back after hearing this, “Well, that’s great! He didn’t go out drinking!"

“Well… after he came home yesterday, which was about an hour and a half after me, probably from getting a detention, which he tries to get on the days he isn’t working, he locked himself in his room. That makes me nervous because I don’t know what he’s doing. For all I know, he could be doing drugs!” Mikey raised his voice when he said the last part.

“I haven’t lived here long, but I’m sure this it’s not a good place to yell about doing drugs. Why don’t we walk to school and you can tell me more,” I offered, pulling him alongside me as I started to walk. Mikey, reluctantly, walked with me.

               “This started when he was in eighth grade. He started to get really depressed. He always walked home with me from school, then we’d do our homework together, but one day, he wasn’t outside waiting for me. I remember how confused I was because my mom had told both of us to never walk home by ourselves. I waited outside the school for a fucking hour, and then I went back inside the school to call my mom. I told her what happened and she drove up to the school, picked me up, and then we sent the next six hours driving around town, looking for my brother. When we found him, it was ten at night he was drunk, and he had an empty pack of cigarettes in his hand. I hated seeing him like that.

“Mom helped him into the car and as we drove home, yelled at him for being so irresponsible, not walking me home, getting drunk, and all of that great stuff. The next day, he walked me home, and then disappeared. Mom and I didn’t know where he went. Again, we spent hours looking for him, and again, we found him drunk, this time… this time with a fucking empty bottle of drugs. Again, we dragged him home, Mom yelling at him.

        “This happened every day for a whole week, until my mom signed him up for therapy. It didn’t do anything to help though. In my opinion, it made it worst. I overheard his therapist and Mom talking and the therapist said my brother refused to communicate. After a couple weeks of him drinking, he started skipping school. At first, only a day or two, then it turned into every fucking day. He wouldn’t come home until early in the morning with a hangover; Mom and I had stopped going out to find him.

        “When he started high school and he got out earlier than I did in middle school, neither Mom nor I knew where he went before he came to my school to walk me home. My curiosity was eating at me, so one day I asked him. He brought me out to the woods to a lake before heading home. He didn’t offer an explanation, he just showed me the lake, brought me home, then left.

        “Yesterday was the first day he didn’t go out. He locked himself in his room. He didn’t answer when we knocked on the door. I was worried that when he was gone on Sunday he’d gotten cocaine or meth or something and locked himself in his room to do that. I’m worried for him. I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want him to- you know… die or… fucking kill himself or something. He’s my big brother. I love him,” Mikey choked out the last words. 

               I felt back for him, having to deal with this for so long. I bet this was the first time Mikey said all this stuff about his brother. I doubted Frank would sit still long enough to listen, and I don’t think Ray would be able to listen to Mikey talk about his past. I doubted that Mikey would even talk about this to Ray or Frank. Trying to comfort Mikey, I asked him, “What was your brother like before he was depressed.” Mikey sighed, obviously trying not to cry, and shrugged.

“He and Ray would hang out with Frank and me. He’d borrow his comic books to me. He’d almost always watch movie with me on Friday night and we’d make bets on who would stay up all night. The weekends we’d go to our grandmothers, when Grandma Helen taught him to sing, or play the guitar, or the piano, he’d refuse to leave me out. He’d include me in everything. Mom used to say that we were best friends. At school, he’d eat lunch with Frank, Ray, and I. When he got depressed, he’d stopped eating for a while. That’s why I was worried about you. My brother had to be hospitalized for two days because he hadn’t eaten for so long. I remember, when I was in third grade, my brother played Peter Pan in a school play. It was because he could sing, and because there was no other boy auditioning, he got the part,” Mikey told me, then gave a small, forced chuckle. By then, we were at the school. Mikey had to wipe away forming tears from his eyes.

               “Do you want to skip first hour?” I asked him, even though I didn’t really want to. I had to go to math so I knew what I had to do on Wednesday. 

“No… No, I’m good,” Mikey sighed again. I repositioned my bag on my shoulder and grabbed Mikey’s hand. He looked over at me in confusion. I gave him a smile and squeezed him hand, showing him I was holding his hand for support.

               We walked to our lockers in silence, and I was lucky I grabbed his left hand so I didn’t have to let go of him so I could open my locker. I wasn’t holding his hand because I liked him and wanted to hold his hand, like how all the other girls would when they had a crush on a boy. They wanted to wear the boy’s jacket, making up whatever excuse they needed to, to wear it. No, I was holding his hand because he needed support. I knew how it felt when I felt horrible, and I remember wishing I had a hand to hold, someone to be there for me.

        I let go of his hand to shove my bag in my locker and grab my math and history books and journals.  I glanced at Mikey, and saw his hand shaking. I grabbed ahold of his hand again as we waited for Frank to meet us by our lockers.

“You sure you’re okay?” I asked him quietly as I saw Frank running towards us. 

“Never said I was okay. But I am,” Mikey whispered.