Adieu

A Family That Dies Together (Michayla)

Michayla straightened her back and repositioned her hands in her lap as she listened intently. With each new piece of information presented to her, Mickey opted to dig her nails deeper into the plush flesh of her palms rather than give anything away via facial expression. Besides the occasional brow furrow or nod, she was composed, cool, and quiet. While Dezmond continued to explain exactly what it was that he did and how he knew such intimate details, Mickey found herself pondering further questions to the answers he gave instead of acknowledging any sort of affirmation.

"So, it's not just me. You were with my father as well?" Feeling her shoulders beginning to tremble ever so slightly at what that must've entailed, Mickey paused for a moment and asked herself if she truly wanted an answer to that question. If what Dezmond had said was true, then that meant that he wasn't only there for Michael's life. "You were there with him when it happened, weren't you?"

Michayla felt a cold tightness anchor itself in her lower back and shoot chills up her spine, littering her skin with goosebumps. At least now she knew that even at that moment, her father wasn't alone. Dezmond, this 'guardian angel' was there by his side, waiting to escort him into the afterlife and ensure his safe passage. The idea gave Mickey some semblance of comfort. Visibly shivering now, Mickey pulled her cardigan tighter against her slender frame before reaching for and taking a sip of the still piping tea. Feeling its warmth ease itself into her chest and replace the cold snap knotted around her spine, she returned the cup to its dish before making a small gesture to herself and continuing.

"No, I'm still very much alive. At least, for the most part. I'm also going to go out on a limb and assume you've never had something like this happen before or you wouldn't be just as confused as I am." Pausing then to process, Michayla went through a quick checklist of possibilities. It wasn't as if she could have any type of inclination as to what this could mean but, being the planner that she was, that didn't mean she wouldn't at least try. Though, despite her efforts, there was only one real explanation that made any sense to her. Then again, what in this scenario actually, truly, made any sense? "You mentioned it being your job to help me cross over when that day came. If I can see you now, does that mean I have even less time than I thought?" While some might have panicked at the possible truth in that sentiment, Michayla asked as more of a general inquiry than an affirmation of her mortality. No, Mickey had already been down that dark road of realization and self-pity.  When the treatments had begun showing signs of being ineffective, she knew that she was on borrowed time. All this meant was that, while it pained her to do it, she'd have to take the necessary steps to finish getting her affairs in order. No matter how much her mother insisted against it. Which brought on a completely different level of anxiety.

Finding herself unable to sit still any longer, Mickey pushed herself up and out of her seat, making quick work of her remaining tea and reaching for the practically untouched bowl of oatmeal. While she felt bad letting it go to waste, knowing the effort Dezmond had gone through to prepare it as such, there was no way Michayla could bring herself to eat. Between the new levels of anxiety, she was adding to herself by being stuck in her own thoughts and the general state of constant nausea she found herself in, it just wasn't happening. Instead, she opted to save what remained of her breakfast in a Tupperware dish for later consumption. Setting the dishes carefully in the sink, Mickey palmed her hips as she looked for any excuse to busy herself. Not only had Dezmond made her breakfast, but he cleaned up after himself as well. How thoughtful. Unable to find anything too productive to busy herself with, Michayla decided to just go with the usual and start grabbing the things needed to brew a fresh pot of tea.

Quickly deciding on what flavor she was going for, Michayla began measuring out the tea leaves before motioning to the door that sat to Dezmond's back. "Would you mind grabbing a few rosebuds from the garden? Also, how do you take your tea?"