Mickey - 2. Chapter 2

The impact sounded like a deadly thud. But instead of being knocked away, Mickey tenaciously held onto him. It didn’t stop the guy, but the drag of Mickey’s desperate bear grip took away all of his momentum.

The bull tried to turn around and aim at Drew again, but Mickey wouldn’t let go.

“Get off of me, you fuckin’ freak!” he raged as he finally grabbed Mickey by the waist and threw him to the ground, where he hit again with another sick thump.

By now the cops were closing in and the breakaway crowd was moving in the other direction as the guy began to angrily pummel his helpless, outmatched victim. Mickey fought back with what little strength he could muster, but he never had a chance.

It all took place so fast that Drew could barely catch up with Mickey and the thug. But when he did, he was all action.

Even though the guy probably outweighed even him by 50 pounds, Drew’s years in sports and his natural constitution had made him incredibly strong. He raced over and pulled the guy off Mickey and, unbelievably, was able to hold him in the air.

“Freak!?” he snarled under his breath before throwing a knockout punch that sent the big guy flying toward the cops. They stopped in their tracks as the huge grey mass suddenly crashed to the ground in front of them.

Mickey was curled up in the fetal position, holding his stomach and moaning as Drew quickly bent down.

“Mickey! Are you all right?” he asked, kneeling on the torn up turf. Drew was afraid of touching him, so just held his hands inches away, ready to help where he could.

There wasn’t an answer for a moment while Mickey, still stunned, struggled to get words out. “Um…yeah....Oh jeez,” he replied, slightly unwinding himself. He shook his head like a boxer after getting popped on the jaw.

He was again quiet for a moment. Then, with a groan, rolled onto his knees and shook his head again.

“What about you? Did he get you, too?” he asked Drew, who seemed stunned himself that Mickey could even ask a question like that.

“I’m fine….but you….what’s wrong with your stomach? Did you get hit there?” Drew asked, his hand now gently placed on Mickey’s shoulder.

“Ugh….yeah in the side, actually, and my shoulders, too, or I hit them on the ground, or something…gosh, I don’t know…ow!” he said, gritting his teeth, then taking a deep breath to try to collect himself. “But…I’ll be okay,” he pushed out with a groan.

“So… did he get to you? Are you hurt?” Mickey asked again, not realizing the fact that Drew had already answered.

“You’re shaking? What’s the matter?” Drew asked, ignoring Mickey’s question.

Mickey did hurt like hell, but he didn’t know why he was shaking. And tingling. It didn’t seem to start until Drew touched him.

“Am I hurting you?” Drew asked, thinking he might be causing even more distress.

Again, there was a pause. “No, you’re not…I don’t know why I’m shaking, but I am.”

“Maybe you’re sensitive right now. I’ll try to be more careful,” Drew answered. Can you get up?”

By this time, one of the cops was leaning over them. “Is that guy alright? Damn, it was like a freight train hit him. I’m surprised he’s still in one piece.”

“Let me …try to get up…” Mickey said. Drew reached under Mickey's arm to help and Mickey shook again.

“You sure I’m not hurting you? I can feel you shaking again,” he asked as he was slowly able to help Mickey to his feet. Mickey was still disorientated and about to fall back down when Drew and now the cop both quickly propped him up again.

“Here, give me your backpack,” Drew said, gently moving the strap from Mickeys shoulder before he could even respond.

Rubbing the shoulder, Mickey winced. “I feel a little bit woozy,” he said, sill supported on either side. “I…I’ll be okay, but my shoulders kind of hurt, both of them,” he said as he tried reaching over with his right hand to massage the outside of the left shoulder muscle. It was the side that Drew was helping to hold up.

“I’ll try to be easy on this, okay?” I’ll just barely touch you, just enough to make sure you don’t tip over. But tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“OK, I will, but you’re good right now.” Mickey did feel like he got hit by a freight train. But with Drew’s fingers wrapped firmly around his arms, it felt…not so bad.

“This guy needs to go to the health center, at least,” the officer said. “We saw what happened to him and I can see that guy really rung his bell. He could have a concussion or something like that. His shoulders need to be checked out, too.”

“Hey Manny, call an ambulance, okay? I don’t think it needs to have the siren, but this guy needs to be taken in to be checked out,” the officer called to one of the other cops.

"Are you his friend?” the cop asked Drew.

“Yes, I am. I could go with him to the health center. Someone should probably do that,”

Drew answered, anticipating the next question.

“Are you okay with that, Mickey?” Drew asked, leaning over close to him, trying to be out of earshot of the officer.

“Um…yeah, I guess I should go. It looks like I don’t have much of a choice, anyway,” he answered, his head rotating almost randomly in alternate directions, still trying to get his bearings.

“And thanks for coming with me,” he said to Drew, pausing for a moment to try to fix his eyes on him.

“Of course!” he replied. The officer was now only giving token support, barely touching Mickey’s shoulder while Drew had increased the leverage from his own side. Besides the mobility, he was also concerned about Mickey’s shaking, but that seemed to have subsided for the time being.

"Okay, good. Thank you,” Mickey replied.

                                 ***

“Damn!” Mickey said as he gazed at his phone after the nurses had taken down his medical information. The upper part of the gurney was at a 45 degree angle, doing all the propping up of Mickey’s limp body.

“What’s the matter?” Drew replied. He was standing by the gurney in the emergency room as they waited for the doctor to come in for the exam.

“My phone’s broken. The face is cracked, it doesn’t seem to want to turn on.” He swallowed and licked his lips.

“By the way, could I have some more of that water?” he asked, nodding toward the cup in Drew’s hand that the nurse had brought when he first arrived.

Before Mickey could reach over, Drew had put the clear plastic up to his lips. “Of course. But just a little bit, all right? The nurse said to take it easy with it.”

Mickey shook his head up and down then took a sip and slowly waived his hand. “Thanks.”

As he put the cup back on the bench that was crowded with bandages, swabs and assorted devices, Drew asked, “Do you need to call anyone?”

“Yeah…um…I’d like to get a hold of my roommate, Jill. But I hardly ever actually dial her, I just hit the button. Damn! I’ll never remember her number.”

“Is she your girlfr…” he heard Drew start, then trail off.

“What was that?” Mickey asked.

“Oh…nothing,” he replied, Drew’s head turning away from him.

Mickey wasn’t sure of exactly what he had asked, but after a pause, Drew looked back up at him.

“Do you mind if I try to fix it? I mean, fix the phone. I like to tinker with these things, maybe I can get it to work.”

"Fix what?”

"The phone," Drew responded.

“Oh, sorry, just spacing out again,” Mickey replied as he looked up at the ceiling, despairing of his temporary lapses. “Sure, if you don’t mind. I see something like a cracked screen and I automatically think it’s kaput.”

“Well, it might be. But let me give it a shot,” Drew replied.

Drew took the device out of his hand and immediately removed the back cover. Mickey saw him take out the batteries, then the SIM card, then put it all back together again and fiddle with the power button like he had. But the screen was still black.

“Let’s try this,” he said, as he hit two of the buttons at once and held them down.”

The screen lit up.

“What did you do?”

“I’m not exactly sure, but I know that…” Just as he was speaking, the doctor approached. Mickey still seemed to be fixated on the phone, a clear sign of his continuing fog. But Drew slipped it into his pocket and moved over to give the doctor complete access to the patient.

“I’m Dr. Sullivan,” she said, reaching out her hand to greet him.

“Oh…ow! Sorry!” Mickey replied as he tried to sit up and reach out his hand but wincing from the pain in his shoulder.

“No need for formalities,” the doctor replied, moving her hand quickly from handshake mode to Mickey’s shoulder to help him make a soft landing back on the pillow.

“Is that better now?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s good. Thanks.”

“I was with Mickey when it happened, and it’s really my fault he’s here, so I’ll help where I can. My name is Drew Patterson,” he said, reaching out his hand.

“Oh, yeah, “the doctor replied as she returned the greeting, barely giving it any effort or attention before turning back to Mickey.

“So I read in the report that you were involved in a bit of tussle. I don’t need all the gory details,” she joked, “but tell me where you got hit and where it hurts now.

In spite of the pain and excitement, Mickey gave an unusually detailed and dispassionate recount. It was like his law training or some innate ability kicked in to let him completely step out of himself and his emotions when it was important. He focused on how the guy had run into him and in what position he landed each of the times that he hit the ground.

After explaining where he was still sore, he turned toward Drew and asked, “Did I miss anything?”

Drew sighed, then looked at Dr. Sullivan. “Except for the fact that if he hadn’t done what he did, I’d be in that bed instead of him, but probably in a lot worse shape, the answer is ‘no.’ He told you all everything.”

Instead of acknowledging Drew’s inference, the doctor practically ignored him again, just kind of grumbling “Okay” as she continued with the examination.

After what he had just been through Mickey wasn’t exactly sure of his judgment at the moment. But if his senses told him anything, it was that the doctor seemed to have a very chilly attitude toward Drew, at least since she found out his name.

“I see that you have scar tissue up here. Can I look closer at this?” she asked, her hand already on Mickey’s chin as she gently moved his face around.

“Um, yeah, sure. I think I got hit by a pebble or something over there, but I don’t feel it anymore. I’ve had all those other scars for a while.”

“This kind of tissue can be kind of tough. At least it has that virtue,” the doctor said smiling. “So you don’t have any pain there right now?”

“Nope, it’s fine. Like you said, it’s pretty tough stuff,” Mickey replied, releasing an exasperated breath.

After about 10 minutes more of ‘Please cough,’ ‘Does this hurt?’ ‘Can you see this? ‘Look right into my eyes here,’ and other orders and requests, the doctor put away her stethoscope and sat back against the tiny writing station that was part of the examination cubicle.

“I’d like to do one or two tests, but I don’t think that you have a concussion or any broken bones. A concussion, of course, was my big worry. But you’ve had some trauma and definitely a lot of bruises and a few scrapes. We’ll get you patched up here and we’ll run those tests to make sure that you’re in decent condition. If all is well, the only thing you’ll have to do is take it easy and you’ll be good as new in a week or so.

“A week?” Mickey asked. “Can I go to class?”

“I wouldn’t go for a couple days. I can write you a note if it will help. But I highly suggest getting some rest at least until the weekend. And I’ll give you a prescription for some pain meds, which should help you get over the worst of the soreness.

After another few hours, which included x-rays, needles in the arm and more forms to fill out, Mickey finally got his permission for release.

“Do you want your phone back now?” Drew asked as they left the white, sterile exam area and entered the relative freedom of the lobby.

“I was supposed to meet Jill a couple hours ago for our study group. She’s probably freaking out by now", he said as he took the phone from Drew’s hand. Except for some frantic texts from Jill, there fortunately wasn’t anything else that need a quick response. His finger then quickly moved around the screen as he tried to update himself on whatever else had happened in the world in the past few hours.

“It’s not my place, to say anything, but, um…remember, the doctor wanted you to rest, Mickey.”

Mickey was so caught up in the scanning the phone that he almost didn’t hear him.

“What? Oh jeez, Drew, I’m sorry. I guess I’m so conditioned to do this stuff,” he said as he looked at the phone and then drew a deep breath. “I feel like such a robot sometimes.”

“Well, maybe your friend can help you catch up, or go to class or get notes for you. I’d offer to do it, but I don’t think I’d be much help in a law school class.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mickey replied. “You obviously understood everything that was going on today. I’m more afraid it would more bore you to death and then you’d be the one in the infirmary.”

Drew gave a quiet, polite laugh but returned to his earlier question. “So, do you have someone who could help you? Your friend Jill?”

“She’ll give me a hand. We’ve been good pals since first year and try to cover each other, so between her and a couple other folks I should be covered.”

“Oh, if she and your other classmates could help you that would be really great,” Drew replied.

Mickey detected a sense of relief in Drew’s voice. He didn’t question that Drew was sincerely concerned about him, but he somehow seemed relieved that Jill was only a classmate. At least he thought that for a fleeting moment, but then he must be reading too much into it. Way too much. He really had to get to bed soon.

“While you’re doing that, why don’t you rest here in the lobby and I’ll go down to the pharmacy and get your prescription filled.”

“I can do that, or we could just go down together,” Mickey protested.

“I don’t think so, Mickey. Like the doctor said, you need to take it easy,” he replied as he held out his hand, demanding the script. Mickey reluctantly surrendered the already crumpled paper.

Drew was back after just few minutes. “Luckily there was no one else there, so I was in and out. Did I miss anything?” he asked, looking directly at Mickey.

“Nope, nothing at all,” Mickey replied, slumped in the chair that Drew had left him in. “I’m just really tired. So thanks for doing that.”

“No problem, glad to help,”

“By the way, how are you going to get home?” Drew asked. “I’m not sure where you live, but wherever it is you can’t walk there. Since I don’t have my car, we’ll need to get a cab.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Mickey replied as Drew helped him up from the chair. They headed for the automatic sliding doors at the far end of the lobby, the kind that that made a ‘whoosh’ sound as they parted. As they passed through the doors they got their first rush of fresh air for hours. It felt great to both of them.

“On second thought, I wouldn’t mind walking, maybe it would help me, you know, to get some more of this fresh air…” Feeling wobbly, Mickey paused for a moment, closing his eyes tightly, almost like he was in pain. Suddenly, he went to reach for a nearby metal column that was holding up the entry canopy overhead, but Drew’s arm was on under his shoulder before he even had a chance to touch it.

“Hey, you’re not steady. Do you need to go inside and sit down again?”

Raising his hand to his forehead, Mickey rubbed his eyes. “I guess I’m just tired. I’m ok, but I need to just put my head down and rest for a sec,” he said as leaned into Drew, barely conscious of what he was doing or where he was.

“You’re in no condition to walk home, Mickey. You can barely get through the front door,” he said as he gently tried to steady him. “Give me your address and we’ll cab you home, all right?”

After Mickey gave him the house number and street, Drew said, “That’s clear on the other side of campus, across Broadway near the law school, which is what I suspected. I just hope a cab can get us there. We might need a plane, instead. It could take days.”

Mickey chuckled as Drew approached a beat-up old cab that was parked in the taxi line. He loaded Mickey into the back seat then got in himself and gave the driver the address. Mickey was already curled up against the door, looking like he was almost asleep as the cab pulled out into the wide boulevard in front of the health center.

Even though he was still sore all over his body and about as exhausted as he’d ever been, Mickey somehow felt kind of good just being in the cab with Drew, who used the opportunity give a running description of the ride while Mickey rested.

“Have you been up to East Rock Park before?” Drew asked.

“No, huh uh. I’ve heard it, but that’s about all. Isn’t there a park at the top, or something like that,” he replied, still drowsy.

“Yeah, there is, it’s pretty nice, you should go up there some time. For me, it’s sort of a refuge. I really like the peace and quiet up there,” he said, he voice barely a whisper that Mickey almost didn’t hear.

“Based on today, you might want to build a fort up there,” Mickey replied, getting a sigh from the other side of seat.

                                   ***

After a 10-minute drive in evening traffic, they had reached the old house that contained Mickey’s apartment. It was on a relatively quiet residential street but was only about a block from a heavily trafficked commercial strip. A large Oak tree in the front towered not only over that one house but practically covered the entire neighborhood.

As the driver pulled up to the old, cracked curb, Drew jumped out of his side of the cab and got to Mickey’s door before he could even pull the door lever.

Once he was out of the cab, Mickey felt a bit more stable. But he still leaned against the once-damaged fender as he reached for his wallet.

“I can get this, Mickey,” Drew said as he reached for his own.

“No way. I can take care of it.”

“No really, I can do it.”

But before he could do actually do anything Drew had already handed over a wad of bills. “Keep the change,” he told the driver.

“My treat next time,” Mickey said.

“No worries. How are you doing? Do you need any help?”

“I think I’m okay,” Mickey replied. “I can make it from here. But thanks so much for doing all this.”

“Doing what? You did all the stuff for me. I’m just trying to help with damage control,” he said as he reached over to take Mickey’s backpack. “And by the way, give me that load.”

“That’s okay, Drew, I can….” But before he could finish his sentence Drew had slipped it off.

“Um…thanks,” Mickey replied. The backpack wasn’t exactly light, so it was a welcome relief.

"By the way, Drew,” he said quietly as he gently tapped his arm. “I know that you tried to push me out of the way. It was just an accident that I got hurt instead of you.”

“Whatever happened, it was all my fault that you got hurt.”

Mickey was about to dispute the remark when suddenly he felt Drew’s hands roughly grab his shoulders and violently yank him back to where he had been standing next to the cab.

“What the…!” he thought to himself. Then he realized that he had actually started to walk straight into the other lane of traffic.

“Oh, jeez, Drew. Wow, I almost….”

“No worries, I’ve been on high alert since we left the hospital. Sorry to have pulled so hard. Any damage?” he asked, bending to the side and looking straight into Mickey’s eyes.

“No, I don’t think so…I’m not under the wheels of some car, so I guess I’m OK. That would have really hurt”, he replied, getting a grin from Drew.

“I’m going to keep my hand on your shoulder if that’s ok, just to make sure that you’re steady. So go ahead and lead the way.”

Mickey shook once again as Drew touched him.

“Did that hurt?” he asked, not for the first time that day.

“No, not at all, I don’t know why I do that sometimes. But it really does feel fine. No worries," he responded. Mickey still didn’t understand the reaction, especially since it actually felt pretty good to have his hand there.

Mickey quietly groaned as he slowly walked to the entry to his apartment at the side of the house. There was a tall green hedge against the neighbor’s property that made it a rather intimate experience, like being in a little private garden. It was one of the things that Mickey liked about the place besides the low price and proximity to the law school. And as it was getting twilight, the experience was even cozier. He just wished he didn’t feel so lousy.

“By the way, I really don’t want to intrude by being here, Mickey,” Drew said as Mickey put the key into the lock. “I just wanted to make sure that you got back in one piece.”

“It’s no intrusion at all, Drew. I really appreciate what you’ve done.”

“I keep telling you, I’ve don’t nothing, Mickey, you did it all.”

“Well, I disagree, but we can leave it at that,” Mickey replied, not unimpressed with Drew's continued sense of responsibility, ”You’ve had to spend half your day with me and I’m sure that you’ve got other things to do, too. But at least stop in for a minute, if you can. You’ll at least need a pit stop.”

Mickey was just getting the old, worn key in the door when he heard a voice from the entry to the pathway.

“Mickey, what the hell is going on? Are you OK?”

He quickly turned and looked at Jill. “Hey you didn’t really need to come right away. It’s not that bad.”

“I could see your profile from down the street. You looked like an old man. And a very shaky one at that.”

As she approached, Drew held out his hand to her. “Hi, I’m Drew Patterson. I think that I’m the one that got Mickey into this mess tonight.”

“Oh jeez, I’m sorry, I guess I’m still fuzzy headed,” Mickey interjected, then continued, “Drew, this is Jill,”

“You know, you look like you can barely move there. Don’t worry about being formal, let’s just get you into the house,” she said before turning to Drew and holding out her hand. “Glad to meet you. We can chat more, but we need to get this guy inside first."

“I’m right behind you,” he replied, deferring to Jill as she held the door and guided Mickey through. “I just wanted to make sure that he got home all right.” He could barely be heard over the loud creak of the door.

As they entered the small two bedroom apartment Jill maneuvered him to his bedroom, Mickey noticed that she didn’t seem to pay much attention to Drew. He wasn’t sure if it was her focus on his injuries, or if she, like a lot of people at the school, also seemed eager to play out some resentment about the Patterson family. In either case, he wanted to make sure that Drew felt welcome.

“If you’re thirsty, the kitchen is over there,” Mickey said, pointing down the short hallway. “And the bathroom is right here. Hey, also, If…”

“Mickey, I’m going to be fine. Just do what you need to do to get ready for bed,” he said as he laid the heavy backpack on the floor next to the bed and then pulled his own bag securely over his shoulder. Seeing that Mickey had put his phone haphazardly on the nightstand, he moved it on top of the charger.

"Yeah, stop fussing and just change your clothes and crawl into the sack. I’m going to see Drew out and let him be on his way,” Jill continued. Drew tightly grabbed the strap of his backpack and as he was led from the room.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to check-in, Mickey. Just get some rest tonight, OK?” he called back, poking his head into the room one last time.

“Ok, but…” they heard Mickey say as Jill closed the bedroom door behind them.

“You’ll watch out for him, right?” Drew asked.

“Mr. Patterson, yes, I’ll take care of him. We need each other to share the rent, so there’s no way I’d let him get away that easy,” she replied, staring straight ahead as she reached for the old, rounded glass handle of the front door.

“By the way, before you leave, would you give me the executive summary of what happened?” she asked, her voice softening a bit. But only a bit.

After Drew gave her a very detailed account, from when they left class to how they cabbed home. But sensing her skepticism, he left out most of the details about his own actions. At the end of the description, Jill looked up at him.

“I have to tell you, you haven’t even known Mickey for a day, but what he did for you tells you everything about him. I hope you appreciate that,” she said as she began rummaging through the pockets of her jacket for some random item without even glancing at him.

“Yes, I do. And I appreciate what anyone does for me,” he replied.

“I won’t judge,” she replied as she opened the door to let him out, not waiting for a response. “But making sure that he got home was the least you could do. Don’t forget about him,” she said

“That won’t happen,” Drew replied. “Ever.”