Mickey - 14. Chapter 14

Mickey felt helpless.

“What’s happening?” he asked Casey, who was now stooped down at Drew’s feet, while Mickey had carefully stepped around him and was kneeling around his head. Daisy was right behind Casey.

She swallowed before speaking. “I think this is something to do with the concussions he had, which is really why we made him quit football,” she said as she bent over him. “He never wants to talk about it, as he thinks that there’s not a lot that can be done. But he still needs to take care of himself.”

Mickey glanced up at her then returned his focus to Drew, who was shaking on the floor as he continued to hold his head. Mickey touched his tense and flailing arms only at critical moments, when it seemed like he might hurt himself.

“What can we do?” he said softly. The moaning and clutching at his head was slowly subsiding, but the breathing was now labored, like he had to keep testing his ability to inhale air.

Wrapping his hand around Drew’s left wrist, Mickey used his fingers to press around the joint, like he was trying to get the circulation going. At least it didn’t seem like it was making things worse, so he did the same with the other wrist, not taking his eyes off of Drew.

He wasn’t sure if his efforts had really done any good, but after a few moments Drew gradually seemed to be calming down. But now his body was almost limp as Mickey finally started speaking to him.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked.

Drew’s eye’s opened and he took a deep breath. “I’m better, I think,” he said before squinting his eyes, like he was trying to figure out what was in front of him.

“I just don’t want to move…not yet. Just let me, um… stay here for a bit, OK?”

“Of course,” Mickey responded. “We won’t try to move you.”

In the excitement of her arrival, Drew had forgotten to take off his shoes like he normally did at home. So Casey started to take them off in an effort to make him as comfortable as possible. He had laced them up tightly, like he learned to do for his football boots, so it took some time to carefully untie and then remove them without twisting his foot. It also didn’t help that Daisy kept sticking her nose close to him, aggressively sniffing around his leg.

“Should I get him a pillow?” Mickey asked, mostly directing the question toward Casey but at the same time hoping that Drew would respond.

She didn’t wait for Drew to say anything. “Yes, for sure, that would be good,” she replied. “I don’t know where he keeps the linens, so maybe just grab stuff off his bed.

Mickey stood up slowly and deliberately, making sure that he didn’t bump into Drew. But as soon as he felt like he cleared any danger zone he dashed into his nearby bedroom, grabbing both pillows and practically ripping the blankets off the bed.

“Does it still hurt?” Mickey asked as he again knelt beside him, the wad of bedding and pillows held tightly in his arm. His ear was almost in Drew’s face as he strained to hear the answer.

“What did he say?” she asked.

“I think he said, ‘yeah, better.’”

Putting his mouth nest to Drew’s ear, he whispered, “I’ve got a pillow here to put underneath your head. Would that help?” Immediately, his head rotated and his ear was now near Drew’s mouth. He could hear the breath come in and out.

After a moment, Mickey looked up at Casey and nodded, “Yeah, he’d like the pillow.” Mickey started to unravel the pillows from the blankets, handing them over to Casey while he put the blanket to the side.

Suddenly, Drew, gripped his hand. “Are you…OK? Is Casey OK?” he asked.

Mickey quickly bent down. “I’m all right, and so is she,” he replied.

“You sure?”

Mickey squeezed his hand. “I’m sure”

“We’re going to gently raise your head, OK?” Mickey then informed him as Casey pushed on all sides of the first white cushion, fluffing the down lining back and forth to test its malleability and making sure its shape would fit the tiny crevice between Drew’s head and the tan bamboo hallway floor.

Walking Drew through the process step-by-step, he slowly raised his head while Casey slipped the pillow gently underneath. She put the other pillow behind his back to brace him against the wall. They both then draped the blanket over him, Mickey starting with the shoulders and torso and then handing it off to Casey, who pulled it over the rest of him before cautiously wrapping his feet.

Fearing that the floor may seem cold, Mickey gently pushed the blanked underneath Drew’s body as much as he could, both front and back. With Casey’s work on the feet, he was practically in a cocoon. Like Drew had done for Mickey earlier.

“Are you comfortable? Can we get you anything else? he asked.

No response.

.

“Drew?” he asked again, his voice slightly shaking.

“He’s asleep,” Casey declared. “That’s a good sign. He needs to rest now.”

“Um…should we have moved him into bed?” Mickey asked. In his concern, he was starting to second-guess himself.

“Well, this isn’t the ideal place, lying on the floor like this. But as long as he can sleep that’s the best thing. Let’s just let him get some rest. Hopefully, he should be OK after that.”

Hearing her say that gave him assurance that he could not have given himself. Preparing for what might be a long vigil, he pushed himself up against the wall and tried to settle in. Daisy seemed to take the cue and joined him, slipping around Drew to position herself, paws out, right near his head.

“How often has this happened before?” he asked, turning and looking at her. It was one of the few times that he took his eyes off Drew.

“I’m not sure. At least once that I’m aware of. He had gone for some diagnostic test that strongly suggested that he had had at least one concussion, but we don’t know how many others,” she said as he rubbed Drew’s foot with her fingers.

“I could hardly look at some of those films of him getting clobbered. ‘Roughing the passer was a mild way of putting it,” she said, sarcasm unmistakable in her voice. “He was definitely a target for a lot people. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did. He’s got a pretty tough hide.”

“Will he be OK?” Mickey asked, his hand now fussing with the blanket, making sure that every square inch of Drew’s body was covered.

“To be honest, I really don’t’ know for sure. I want to think so, since he’s actually been fine in spite of it all. But he has to be really, really careful, at least for the next few years. He certainly shouldn’t be playing any contact sports or roughhousing it.”

“Contact sports like basketball?” Mickey asked, thinking of Drew’s acrobatics, not to mention heroics, during their last matchup. In spite of feeling a bit like he was ratting on his partner, he couldn’t help sharing some of the details with Casey, especially how Drew had shielded him from almost certain injury.

“Well if anyone doesn’t think that basketball is a contact sport then they need to watch him,” she replied, smiling.

They spent the next few minutes silently watching over him. He looked almost like a wrapped-up recumbent statue, but the regular breathing reminded them of the real person there.

After a few minutes, Casey broke the silence. “By the way, you can go and do things, Mickey, we both can. He’ll probably be asleep for at least an hour or so,” she said, reaching over her brother patting Mickey on the leg.

“I’m OK,” he responded as stared at Drew. “I’ll just wait here in case he needs anything.”

When she was growing up, it seemed like everyone she knew behaved like Mickey – when one person was down then the partner was there by their side. She remembered her dad doing it for her mom during the long illness. As busy and prominent as he was, her dad had sloughed off almost all his work to subordinates in order to attend to their mom.

But as she got older and was able to experience more of the world, she realized that it wasn’t that way with everyone. She remembered the time one of her college roommates got sick and had to cancel a visit to a big rock concert. Rather than seeing her through the illness, her boyfriend berated her for getting sick at the ‘wrong time.’

Then there was the friend who was taking an extra class each semester in order graduate early and reduce her student debt. Instead of pitching in to help with the inevitable logistics jam-up at finals, where she hardly had time to even get a meal, her boyfriend just said that it was ‘her problem.’”

She noticed that Mickey hardly took his eyes off Drew. It almost looked like he was checking off each breath, making sure that one followed another.

                                 ***

The first thing that Mickey noticed was some motion in his arms. Then he saw the head move slightly before the eyes just barely opened. Daisy got up on all fours and started panting.

Kneeling closer, Mickey softly stroked the back of Drew’s hand. He was afraid to touch his head.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Are you awake?”

“Uh huh,” he whispered. Again, he asked, “Are you and Casey all right?”

“Yes, we’re both OK. But you’re the one who needs the attention now, OK?

Drew’s jaw seemed to stiffen for a moment, like he was steeling himself for some great effort, then his body again moved slightly. “I’ll be…fine,” he replied, unconvincingly.

“Ohhh, wow… it doesn’t hurt anymore. It doesn’t hurt…” he continued, softly.

Daisy stuck her head in between them and was about to start licking his face before Casey called out, ‘Back, girl” and she, reluctantly, moved to the side.

“She’s OK,” Drew said. “She just wants to check up on me,” he said as he weakly reached out his arm to quickly stroke her paw.

Trying to roll over, his body pushed up against the pillow as his arm hit the wall. He paused for a moment and looked around, momentarily confused when he realized that he was actually on the floor.

“What time is it? I’d better get up.” he said as his entire body contracted, trying to get on his feet again.

“Not yet!” Mickey ordered, quickly grasping Drew’s shoulder. There wasn’t much pressure, but the intention was clear and Drew relaxed again and stayed down.

“I wish he would listen to me like that,” Casey said.

“I listen,” Drew protested, his head raising up slightly, “but only if you ask nicely.”

Smiling to himself, Mickey adjusted the blanket on Drew’s back.

“Just get acclimated a bit, OK? No need to rush right now,” Mickey said.

After resting for another few minutes, Mickey allowed him to get up. Not unexpectedly, he wanted to go to the bathroom before anything else. Grabbing his arm to make sure the rise was successful, Mickey continued to support him into the main bathroom, which was just down the hall.

“I’ve got to piss like a racehorse,” Drew said. “That must have been what really woke me up.”

Mickey chuckled again as he stood behind Drew, holding him steady while he peed into the toilet. He forced his eyes to stare at the collar of Drew’s shirt, counting the threads. Anything to not look like he was staring at Drew’s cock in the mirror above the adjacent sink.

After Mickey maneuvered Drew back through the hallway and to the bedroom, Drew practically collapsed onto the bed as Mickey finally released his grip. At the same time Daisy jumped up and lay beside him in what looked like a practiced move.

Helping him to maneuver into a comfortable position, Mickey asked, “Are you OK now? I think I should get you some water. You’re probably really thirsty.”

“I’ll get that Mickey, just help him get settled there,” Casey said, again not waiting for her brother to answer as she quickly headed for the kitchen.

Lying on the bed which faced a large, bay window with a view of the front yard, Drew stared through the curtains at the faint outline of a maple tree that bordered the property. The situation was beginning to sink into him and he didn’t care about whether there were reporters stalking there or not. And he could hardly bring himself to look at Mickey.

“I should have told you about this, Mickey. It only happened to me once before, so I thought that may it was just an anomaly, so I didn’t want to worry you. But…”

“No worries, babe,” Mickey interjected, his concern for Drew overcoming any anxiety. “The only thing that we need to do now is go to the doctor and see what we need to do if this happens again, and maybe prevent it if we can. In the meantime, you just need to rest.”

‘I just called him babe again,’ Mickey then thought to himself.

Drew gave a knowing smile back to him. “Well, I’ve got tomorrow to get back on my feet. I should be OK to hit the books on Monday, no problem“ he proclaimed. “It will just take me a day or two to sleep it off,” he continued. His eyes caught Mickey’s skeptical look.

“Really, I should be OK.” He paused then said, “babe,” as he rolled over on his side where Mickey couldn’t see his face.

“Sweet talk will get you nowhere,” Mickey admonished him. “We’ll make that decision on Monday. In the meantime, I’m going to make sure that I have someone to cover all of your classes on Monday in case the doctor orders you to bed.”

“What was that all about?” Casey asked later as they left Drew alone to sleep.

“He thinks that he can charm his way out of this,” Mickey replied.

“Don’t be so sure he can’t,” she replied.

                                 ***

After Drew had fallen asleep, Mickey still felt uneasy. He went to the kitchen to retrieve his laptop, along with a bottle of water to continue his watch. Just to make sure he was prepared for a long haul, he packed up his power cord, too.

“He’ll be OK,” Casey said as he was about to open the door to the bedroom. “You can relax now or take care of your work. He just needs to get some real sleep. And besides, Daisy is in there with him.”

“But what if he needs me later? He might need to go to the bathroom again? Or maybe he gets hungry and needs something to eat. I feel like I should be there.”

“He might need all those things, Mickey. But he knows that you’re here and where to find you. And he knows that you won’t be going anywhere soon,” she said as she took his hand and led him back out to the kitchen. “Like I said, Daisy can watch him, too. She’ll let us know what’s going on.”

“Do you want something to eat?” she asked as her hands started opening and closing cupboard doors, surveying what he had for cooking or making any kind of food.

“He’s usually pretty good about keeping stuff around, but there’s not much here,” she continued. “And where did all his booze go?”

“He, um…got rid of it all the other night,” Mickey responded.

“Why? she asked. “He always throws the best parties and needs that stuff.”

Clearing his throat, Mickey said, “a couple days ago, something happened and I asked Drew not to drink around me. I shouldn’t have done that, but it was a …bad moment. Some stuff happened when I was a kid, and I don’t drink because of that.”

Mickey told her about what had happened that morning, how he had met the neighbor and then confronted Drew about it.

“Thanks for telling me this, Mickey. I had no idea. I know it’s kind of awkward,” she said, not wanting to get into all the details that he had only alluded to, “But I think that you’re learning a lot about my brother.”

Mickey just smiled back. “Yes, I am,” he said before taking a quick glance into a couple of the cupboards himself.

“By the way, are you hungry?” he asked.

“Maybe a little, but I’ve got some breakfast bars with me if you’d like one. I always grab a bunch before getting on the train, in case I get the munchies.”

“What about you?” she asked again.

“No thanks, nothing for me right now. But Drew’s going to be hungry when he wakes up, so I was just thinking that we could make something that you’d both like,” he said.

“I don’t cook much, but I think I know what he likes, and I could try to put something together. Do you like spaghetti and meatballs? I noticed that was one of the things that he seemed to have a lot besides sandwiches, even at lunch.” He went on to describe how Drew would often eat the spaghetti, raising his fork over his head and slurping the noodles from the bottom up.

She smiled at his story but was more surprised at the details about her brother that he had picked up already. It was the type of thing that she used to laugh about when Drew and she were growing up, and since then had considered it a private joke, just between them.

“Sure, that would be great. We’d have to go out and get stuff, but it wouldn’t take too long.”

“Great, I think he’ll like it,” he replied, for the first time with some excitement in his voice. “But I’ll need to google some recipes to do the meatballs, I don’t really know how to make them.”

“That’s sounds like a job for…me!” she responded. “I’m an expert in all things meatball. I love to cook. I’ll teach you how to make them.”

Mickey smiled back. “Well, that leaves me with the pasta. At least I know how to make that,” he added. It was still a gas stove, which made him a bit anxious behind the smile. But this was for Drew, so he’d somehow make it work.

“Fancy salads are a favorite of his, too. That wouldn’t be hard to do either,” Casey said.

“Oh, yeah, he loves to heap it on!” Mickey responded in agreement as he grabbed his laptop and stylus and started writing down the shopping list. “let’s see, he likes red onions better than the white ones, and romaine lettuce, and …hmmm…he always picks the cherry tomatoes from the salad bar in the dining halls rather than slices, and shitake mushrooms, those are his favorites.”

“Oh yeah, we can’t forget ice cream!” he proclaimed before opening the freezer door to check the stock.

“Good - he doesn’t have any, so we can get him some fresh stuff. He likes any kind of chocolate, especially chocolate velvet, and maybe something with peanut butter, too. And let’s see…” he said, his eyes going into his rumination mode, “if we could get some whipped cream, and maybe a banana, and, um… maybe some nuts. He loves lots of stuff on his cones. And…oh yeah, speaking of cones, we’ll need some of those, too. He likes waffle cones, big ones, but any size will do. But if they don’t have waffle cones…

She just stared at him as he went through in his mind all those things that she recognized as her brother’s favorites, and even a couple things that she didn’t know.

After they had sorted out the rest of the menu, Casey said, “It’s probably best if I go to the store. I’m less recognizable if anyone is still out there. And if Drew wakes up, he’d be really glad to see your face.”

“Not more than yours, Casey. He was so excited that you were coming down, I can hardly tell you,” he countered.

“I know, Mickey. But, right now, you are exactly what is best for him,” she said, no regret at all in her voice. “I feel like he’ll be in good hands.”

He just smiled back, then glanced toward the bedroom. “Oh yeah, one more thing. You might want to get some treats for Daisy. I think that would make him the happiest.”

                                 ***

Never having made meatballs before, Mickey became an eager student, especially when she told him that Drew would ‘love ‘em.’ Casey had bought fresh pasta, so that was pretty easy to prepare and allowed Mickey to be a full-time sous-chef focusing on cutting and mixing.

While he was at the kitchen island chopping onions for the meatballs, Casey was right behind him, looking under the cupboard for bowls or pans to mix ingredients for the sauce. Like Mickey, she was well organized and had most of the items lined up on the counter before she had even started, the containers of oregano, basil, parsley, pepper salt and others arranged like soldiers on the far side of the kitchen island, opposite Mickey.

“Mickey, could you reach that for me,” she said, motioning toward a bowl on the top shelf.

“Sure,” he replied as he put down the knife and reached up to get the simple white mixing bowl. Even he had to stand on his tip toes and stretch to reach the top shelf but was finally able to retrieve it.

As he was pulling it down, she mentioned a couple of girls she knew who had gone to Middlefield at about the same time. “I’ve been doing background checks on you,” she confessed, a bit of embarrassment in her voice.

He laughed. “No worries, I would expect nothing less than to be rigorously vetted,” he joked.

“The girls that you mentioned, I mean, I think that they were a year or so behind me, maybe in Andrew’s class,” he replied. “I didn’t know either of them well, but I hope that they gave me decent reviews.”

She took the bowl and started mixing olive oil, tomatoes and some of the spices that she had lined up. “Needless to say, they spoke very highly of you,” she responded. “One of them even called you a ‘Star’,” she teased.

“A star? Me? I wish! She probably said it because of the grades, I guess, that kind of stuff. But that isn’t such big deal. I mean, I’m not bad at taking tests, but it doesn’t’ really mean anything. I sure wasn’t a star on the basketball team or anything else there,” he replied as he went back to cutting the onions.

“Don’t’ get me wrong, I mean, gosh, I loved it there and I made some really good friends. But a star? I don’t think so.”

She momentarily glanced over at him as he continued chopping. The two girls who knew of Mickey thought that he was a top student and even confessed to being a little intimidated by him. Granting the slight deference often felt towards upperclassmen, she sensed from both that there was something exceptional about him not just as a student but as a person. However, he seemed genuinely unaware of any ‘model student’ label that anyone had for him.

Or maybe, she thought, there was another aspect of him that affected him more. She had noticed that, even with their warm greeting, he always seemed to position himself so that the unscarred side of his face was almost always facing her. Even now, in the small kitchen where he had somewhat awkwardly positioned himself as he cut the vegetables.

She put the bowl down and, after quickly washing her hands, she went over to Mickey. “Can you put the knife down for a second?” she asked.

“Sure, but why?” he responded.

Without saying anything she put her hand on his hips and guided him to the other side of the island. She was surprised how narrow they were, considering that he was about the same height as her brother.

“Work over here, she said.” I can get a better view of what you’re doing. I’d hate to have you lose a finger.” His scars were now all she could see of his face.

He smiled back at her before reaching over for the knife and continuing his chopping. Keeping his eyes focused on the half-finished onion, he thought that might be the reason that his eyes were watering. But at least it gave him an excuse to stop and wipe them on his sleeve.