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“Ey. Pull over here. I think I can walk the rest of the way.”
Ian peers at the space between them and the car with some scrutiny. “Are you sure, Mick? I don’t mind…”
Mickey waves him off stubbornly. “I’m feeling pretty good right now. Might as well take advantage of it while I can.”
Ian isn’t really sure about that but he decides to at least let Mickey try. It isn’t often that his husband gets to display any sort of independence these days.
Mickey does manage to make it into the car, and he’s only slightly out of breath as he sits down in the passenger seat. Maybe this was going to be one of his good days.
Ian puts the wheelchair back in its designated area by the hospital and then slips into the driver’s seat.
Another day of chemo. Ian has a terrible feeling that Mickey won’t be feeling so good in the morning. The first day after a round of chemo was always rough on him.
It’s been almost two years since Mickey was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer at the age of eighty-four. Now, at age eighty-six, he was tired out after all the fighting. The doctors had grimly informed then that the cancer wasn’t likely to recede. And that the rounds of chemo were mostly just preventing the inevitable at this point. Even with all that information, Ian had to hold back a swell of anger when the hospital staff began suggesting hospice care.
It’s also partially because deep down, he knows there’s a part of Mickey that’s tired and wants to give up. To let himself die. But he doesn’t because if he did, he’d be leaving Ian to deal with it all without him.
And even though Ian feels guilty as shit about that, he’s also too selfish to bring it up.
He doesn’t want Mickey to die. And truthfully, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do if he does.
When he does.
“Ian.”
Mickey says his name in a soft enough noise that it alerts him. “Come on, man.”
Mickey is opening his arms from the passenger seat, silently offering a hug. It’s then that Ian realizes he’s started crying.
He hates this. He should be the one comforting Mickey. Not the other way around.
Even so, he can’t help but fall into his husband’s arms.
They end up crying together.
They get home about twenty minutes later. As usual, Ian helps Mickey into his chair before sitting down next to him, the TV blaring in front of them.
Ian has something on his mind. But he’s terrified of the possible ramifications of him saying it.
Mickey fills the silence instead.
“Leah still coming over tomorrow?”
Leah, their daughter, comes over at least twice a week to make them dinner and make sure everything is going okay. Sometimes she brings their grandson Theo with her.
Theo reminds Ian so much of Mickey. So grumpy, especially at the age of eighteen, but a huge softy deep down. Always willing to help out however he could when he was able to pull himself away from his college courses. Despite his sour mood, Ian smiles at the thought of him.
Ian nods in response to Mickey’s question. “I talked to her on the phone the other day. She’s planning on making beef stew.” He knows that’s one of Mickey’s favorites.
To his small delight, a light twinkle appears in Mickey’s aged blue eyes at that. “Now we’re talking.”
Silence follows them after that. Eventually, Ian clears his throat, bracing himself. “How are you feeling right now?”
Mickey shrugs. “Okay. You know the day after is usually my worst day.”
“Right.” The day after usually consisted of Mickey feeling sicker than normal and spending all day in bed. Ian always hated it.
Before he can think better of it, he forces himself to blurt out what he knows he needs to. “Listen Mick…you don’t have to keep doing this if you don’t want to.”
Mickey at first furrows his brow, as if he isn’t quite sure what Ian is talking about. But then he seems to realize, and lets out a sigh. “Ian…”
“I know you hate doing the chemo,” Ian cuts him off in a rush. “And that you’re mostly still doing it for me…so you can prevent leaving me for as long as possible. But I…I’ll be okay. You can stop if you want to.”
He’s actually not really sure that’s true. But damn it….he has to make it true. Or at least convince Mickey that it will be. Mickey has spent almost his entire life trying to protect Ian. And he still was, even while practically on his deathbed.
Ian hates everything about this. Hates that Mickey is dying. That Fiona has already been gone for two years after suffering an unexpectedly devastating stroke. That Lip has been in a care facility for almost a year now with Alzheimer’s, seeming to recognize Ian less and less each time he visits him. Ian is so so tired of people being taken away from him.
But Mickey deserves to have whatever peace he can get for the remainder of his life, even if it means shortening it. And Ian has to be okay with it.
He isn’t even aware that he’s crying until he feels his husband gently brush away a tear off his cheek with his fingers.
Ian looks at him through a watery gaze.
His husband looks at him with an almost firm expression. “Ian,” he repeats, voice still soft. “C’mere.”
Ian automatically obeys on instinct, scooting closer to Mickey on their small sofa, allowing his husband to embrace him while holding him back in return.
He can’t fathom a world without this feeling.
“It’s not just you,” Mickey murmurs. “You ever consider maybe I have shit I still wanna do? That I’m not ready to go yet?”
Ian parts from him enough to look at him with an expression of disbelief.
“It’s true. I gotta stick around long enough to have Thanksgiving dinner one last time. Besides…” Now he looks a bit forlorn, smiling slightly. “Was sort of hoping to make it until our sixtieth wedding anniversary. You think we could go to the cabin again?”
The beach was a tradition they had started when they first retired and could therefore do whatever they wanted. And each year, on their anniversary, they drove down to Lake Michigan and spent a week in a little cabin rental they discovered. Complete with a hot tub.
Ian has the sinking feeling that Mickey is still partially saying this to make him feel better. But he does brighten a bit at the thought of going to that cabin with Mickey at least one last time. He smiles faintly.
“Yeah. Of course we can Mick.” Even if he has to bring a whole medical staff with them, Ian will get Mickey to that cabin.
“See? Now we got something to look forward to.” Mickey grins. And even through the wrinkles, it somehow looks like the very same grin that used to make Ian’s heart flutter back when he was a teenager.
Ian knows that they probably have more to talk about. But right now, he’s content to let it go.
At some point, he’ll have to bring the topic up again. To gently encourage Mickey to not suffer through the chemo sessions anymore so he can better enjoy his final days. No matter how much it hurts Ian.
But for now, they can have this moment.
Ian leans in to kiss Mickey. And when Mickey returns the kiss, his lips moving against Ian’s softly, it feels just the same as it always has.
“Hey munchkin,” Mickey says into the phone receiver, using the same name he’s been using since Leah was a baby.
“Hey pops,” Leah answers, voice warm. She has this way of speaking…delicately to Mickey every time they talk like this. And though Mickey gets it, it also annoys him.
He tries not to let his frustration show too much.
Ian is at the store, helping Leah out by buying the groceries she will need to make dinner the next day. Leah apparently had been prepared to do the shopping herself but Ian had insisted.
He’s always been a stubborn motherfucker. Sometimes even more so than himself. Mickey smiles to himself a bit at the thought.
They make small talk for a few minutes. Mickey mostly tries to warm himself up enough to talk about why he really called her. He knows he most likely only has a little more time before Ian gets back from the store.
But he sometimes forgets how perceptive Leah can be.
“Alright. Now that we’ve talked about Theo’s college classes, are you going to tell me the real reason you called me?”
Mickey lets out a brief chuckle once he gets over his momentary surprise. Should’ve known. Nothing ever gets past Leah. “It’s about your dad.”
“What about him?” Leah asks, her tone cautious.
Mickey lets out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding the phone. “I’m fucking worried about him. We had a talk before he left for the store. He said I could stop having the chemo treatments.”
A pause ensues. After a moment, Leah responds softly. “Are you going to do it?”
“No,” Mickey answers quickly. “Not yet anyway.”
Ian hadn’t been entirely wrong when he assumed Mickey was trying to hold on longer for him. But Mickey also hadn’t been lying when he said he still had some unfinished business to attend to before he could let himself go.
However, there was one important thing that had to be said when Ian wasn’t around to hear it.
“You’re going to look after him after I’m gone, right?”
Ian had said it was okay for him to give up. But Mickey knows his husband well enough to know that this loss is not going to be easy on him. Especially after already losing Fiona and Lip’s dementia diagnosis.
Mickey can’t go out in peace unless he knows with certainty that Ian will be alright in the end. That he won’t go off the deep end. He can’t imagine how he would feel if the situations were reversed, after all.
Leah gives him the answer he is hoping for. “Obviously, pops.”
Mickey can practically hear the eye roll in her tone. But he smiles a bit in relief.
“Thanks kiddo.” Leah is nearing forty-five years old but she’ll always be that to him.
“You don’t have to thank me. He’s my dad.” Leah pauses for a moment. When she speaks again, her voice sounds fragile, as if she was holding back tears herself. “He’ll be okay. Theo and I will be here. His siblings and aunt Mandy too. He won’t be alone. I promise.”
Even with Fiona gone and Lip more than likely on his way out, Debbie was still kicking it. As were Liam, Carl, Franny, and Fred. Mandy is also planning on moving back to Chicago from California soon.
Still, Mickey can’t help but worry. He always worries about Ian.
But Leah’s promise does make the uncomfortable feeling less heavy.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”
“Okay. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Mickey says without hesitation.
When the line goes dead, Mickey swiftly pulls out a pen and paper, quickly beginning to write.
Ian,
If you’re reading this, it means I’m gone. I’m going to ask Leah to give it to you later.
Because I know you, I know you’re probably overthinking everything and blaming yourself. And I’m telling you now to knock it the fuck off, okay? There’s nothing anyone could have done. Especially you.
I want you to know that I don’t have any regrets. I’ve lived a longer, happier life than I ever thought I would get. And it’s all thanks to you. Our life together was better than anything I could have ever imagined back when we were fuckhead kids sneaking around.
I know this shit isn’t going to be easy but I need you to go on and keep living. Spend as much time as you can with our daughter. Watch our grandson graduate from college. Help Debbie take care of Lip because fuck knows she’ll need it. Make some new memories that you can tell me about when I see you on the other side someday.
You and me, we’ve been separated more than once throughout our lives. But we’ve always found our way back to each other. I don’t think this time will be any different.
Love, your husband
Mickey
PS: Don’t think I won’t kick your ass when we see each other again if you don’t listen to this letter. That’s a promise.