by Susan Lee
Mickey hovered outside the door, suddenly uncertain about talking to him. He really looked like he needed some time to himself, not to have her bust in and try to expose his Batman-ness.
Not for the first time, she doubted that it was him who had saved her. Maybe it truly was her imagination run wild and she should just go back to her office and forget all about it.
Instead, Rick noticed her at the last second, slamming that charming, albeit worn out, smile on his face. "Mickey!" he greeted her with honest delight. "So good to see you!" He put down his cup and gave her a very careful hug, trying not to dislodge her sling. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm good," she answered honestly. "The doctor says I should be pretty much fine in a few months. Nothing serious was hit, just need to be careful for a bit."
"I'm so glad to hear that. I felt horrible when I heard. I wish I had caught up with you again at the convention. Maybe I could have stopped it."
You did stop it!, she wanted to scream. But she didn't. "Someone stopped it, thank god," was all she said. "How's your brother?"
Rick sighed, a sound that broke her heart. "He's doing okay," he said softly. "Like you, he's lucky it wasn't worse. Broke his arm and fractured a few ribs, but he'll be fine in a few months. He didn't want me to stay cuz he's the older brother and a tough guy. I might fly back in a few weeks and check in on him."
"Glad he's okay," she replied.
Then they hit that part of the conversation where no one really knows what to say next. All the important stuff has been said, and maybe there is more that could be added, but you don't say it. Small talk seems frivolous, but you can't figure out how to get to the next topic without an awkward segue.
Patty saved them from digging themselves out. "Hey, Mick," she interrupted. "Innovative is on the phone with some dire emergency, as usual. Hey, Rick, glad you're back. And glad to hear your brother's recovering well."
"Thanks, Patty," Rick answered, almost sighing with relief. He grabbed his coffee cup and toasted towards Mickey. "Nice to talk to you. Let's plan some time to catch up." Then he was gone.
Mickey handled her client emergency quickly, spending the rest of the day wondering what Rick meant by "plan some time to catch up".
Part of her mind kept trying to drag her back into work but was having difficulty succeeding with that plan.
The end of the day came quickly, now that Mickey had her eyes on Rick. She wasn't really the kind to obsess on someone, especially after her last, horrible, abusive relationship.
Since her recovery, she had decided she was going to be pretty much alone for the immediate future due to the fact that the idea of being with someone else scared the living shit out of her. Maybe it was the reality of this really nice guy seeming to be genuinely interested in her colliding with her superhero fantasy of him that made her unable to think about anything else. Fantasy had been her escape for so long. Now it was creeping into her reality and she wasn't sure what to do with it.
As she walked to her car at the end of the day, she again found herself surveying the shadowy nether areas of the parking lot, secretly wishing and hoping. Nothing leapt out at her, thankfully, so no need of a rescue. Weirdly disappointed, she drove home.
Again, she drew. Again, it was dark, moody, almost frightening. Something in her rang an alarm bell. This wasn't healthy, this voice said, you should tell Jerry about this. We don't need to go back there. We don't need to lose control again. We need to stop. We need to breathe. We need to not go there again.
Shut up, the other part of her demanded. We're fine. We're living. Leave us alone.
And a door slammed somewhere inside of her in that moment.
FOUR
No one really noticed the darkness growing inside of Mickey. She hid it well. She saw Patty notice it, so she learned to push it down and away so even Patty could barely see it. Though Patty still saw it but chose to let it go... for now.
Mickey's days were filled with work, her nights filled with aggressive art. Her usual black and white became more black. Only slivers of light sneaked through here and there. Color disappeared altogether. Impressionist style became almost stark German expressionism. Dynamic and stylish, her art was nonetheless becoming almost difficult to look at.
Her shoulder was healing slowly, which still hindered her a bit. It did feed her art, adding her anger and frustration to each brushstroke. Her paint got thicker, her strokes bolder, her dark darker. What used to have shape now just had motion.
If Rick noticed it, he didn't say anything. His promise to catch up with her finally came to fruition. He stopped at her office one Friday, a couple of weeks after he go back from his trip back home.
"Hey, you," he said as he leaned in through her doorway. "What's your weekend look like?"
Startled, Mickey tried to feign checking her calendar so as not to appear so eager.
"Um, not much," she answered vaguely. "Finishing some art, working on the comic book. What about you?"
This was usually how their discussion went, with nothing ever coming out of it.
"Well," he said with a smile, "I was hoping that maybe we could grab some food and catch up. I've been swamped since I came back but I'd really like to hang out with you a bit."
"Uh, yeah, sure," she managed to stammer back at him. "Whatever works for you."
"How 'bout Saturday? Dinner?"
Saturday. Dinner. Date? Not date? Should she ask? "Sure. Sounds good," she wisely answered. She grabbed a post-it and scribbled her number on it. "Just text me with details and I'll meet you wherever."
"Why don't I be a gentleman and pick you up?" he teased, the cute wink which had been missing lately slipping back in. She tried not to choke with excitement. And terror. And clowns.
"Guess I can let you do that," she teased back. "We'll figure it out."
"Cool," he said, smiling. "See you Saturday."
As he walked away, Patty suddenly sprung up in the doorway and leapt into the chair across from Mickey.
"Saturday?" Patty questioned. "Saturday, as in 'let's have dinner Saturday and I'll pick you up' Saturday?"
"Not like you were eavesdropping," Mickey jokingly accused. She was secretly delighted that Patty was there. It lifted the darkness for a brief moment.
"I wasn't. I was just waiting patiently just in earshot so I could talk to you about a client."
"Which client?"
"I forget. Too distracted by the news of your date Saturday."
"It's not a date," Mickey corrected. "The word 'date' was never mentioned. We're just two friends having dinner."
"Yeah, uh huh." Patty got up, grabbing Mickey's bag. "Let's go have dinner as two friends and then you can compare what you do with Rick on Saturday with this. My treat. Oh, that might make it a date."
"I'd totally date you," Mickey joked as she shut down her computer. "You're cute, in that geeky sort of way."
"Wow, thanks?"
"Hey, geeks are hot now. You should take advantage of that."
The rest of the night, the two friends went back to how their friendship was pre-suicide attempt - happy, fun, light. The darkness that had been encroaching on Mickey suddenly lifted.
Patty wished Mickey would embrace this part of her more, but didn't want to bring it up since they were having such a good time. She would find the time to have that discussion. Just not right now.
Mickey felt the lightness, too, remembering how it felt to laugh and joke with Patty. If she would allow herself, she might actually admit that she missed it. Life had been too dark lately. She needed some light.
Maybe she would talk to Jerry about it this week. She had missed a few sessions because of her injury. At least that's what she used as an excuse. She knew she needed to go back to him because she could feel things slipping and she needed him to help her get her grip back.
But right now, she just wanted to enjoy the night - and the Saturday to come.
• • • • • • • • • • •
The pil
e of clothes on her bed belied Mickey's excitement over the non-date. She was trying for looking good without looking like she tried too hard because she still wasn't sure what was going on. Patty had tried to get Mickey to let her come over and help her pick her non-date outfit but Mickey had refused politely. She couldn't let Patty see her as she battled so many things in her head while she got ready. She needed the space to keep herself together.
Rick had texted her to confirm, get her address, all the detail things. She wasn't even sure she wanted it to be a date. She liked him a lot and, sure, she wouldn't mind if it was truly an actual for real date.
But she tried to temper her excitement with a huge grain of salt. If it wasn't a date, no big deal. She'd still be spending time with someone she really liked. And maybe, just maybe, she could find out if it was really him who rescued her, despite his claim that he was heading out of town. He could have still found time to sweep in, save her, and still catch his plane, especially if he truly had superpowers.
Her phone chimed and all those thoughts flew out of her mind as she read that Rick was out front waiting for her. She grabbed her nice small bag, forgoing her usual messenger bag as she tried to be a grown-up woman for the evening, and tried not to run out the door.
Rick stood against his idling car, looking very spiffy indeed. She had always noticed his eyes but tonight, they stood out particularly well.
Might have been the shirt that brought out the shade of blue or the way they sparkled under the lights. Or the sapphire blue of the Mustang he was driving that made him spiffier. Tonight was indeed shaping up to be a really good one.
"Hey, you," Rick greeted her, giving her a sweet kiss on the cheek. She couldn't help but blush at the contact and admit to herself that it felt good to have someone kiss her, even if it was only in friendship.
"Hey, yourself," she answered back. He opened her door for her and helped her into the car. She was already feeling swept off her feet. "Dig your wheels."
He looked startled as he got into the car. "Thanks. Most women don't notice cars."
"I'm missing the girl gene," she joked. "I like muscle cars, action films and comic books."
"Sounds like the best kind of girl," he quipped, not noticing her blush. "Hope you like this place," he said as he pulled on to the street. "It's supposed to have really good seafood and a decent wine menu."
"I have to be honest," she admitted, "the only thing I know about wine is that there's red and there's white, and occasionally they have a baby and call it rosé."
Rick laughed heartily, always a good sign. "I'm right there with you. So we'll just order something random and see what happens."
"If all else fails, maybe they'll have whiskey."
"Girl after my own heart."
The rest of the ride fell into a nice, natural rhythm as their work relationship was slowly left behind.
They shared surface stories about their lives and things going on in the world. Enough to break the ice but not enough to scare anybody off.
This continued as they dove into dinner. The seafood was wonderful, Mickey moaning with ecstasy as she ate her salmon. Their adventure into wine went well, ordering a white that wasn't too dry that they both agreed was just about perfect.
Rick could not have been more of a gentleman. He consulted with her about the menu, then ordered for her. He poured her wine and gave her his fork when she dropped hers. Once in a while, their hands touched as they reached for things on the table, and this began to happen more and more frequently. He kept smiling at her, which made her feel giddy and girlish and all kinds of wonderful things. She wanted to live in this moment forever.
It had been a long time since she had felt this good, this simple. She had gotten so used to weighing every sentence, judging every feeling when she was the other guy that she had forgotten you could just be yourself with someone and that that would be enough. For a while, she was as Mickey as she could be. And that was nice.
"Glad I got to see your stuff at the convention," Rick told her. "I really dig the pin-up stuff you do. Very retro yet edgy."
Suddenly, her brain was having a battle with itself.
Part of her wanted to jump up and demand he admit he was the one who rescued her that night, the other part telling the first part to sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.
She forced a smile to her face and decided she needed to say something in response before too much time passed.
"Thanks," she finally managed to blurt out. "It's fun to do that after doing commercial work for a long time."
"I wish I could do something like that. I always love the artwork when I go to conventions. Makes me wish I could draw like that."
Ask him, ask him, ask him! her brain screamed. Well, half of her brain screamed. The other half managed to silence the other side as she dug around for something else to say.
"I could teach you to draw. It's really simple, all about shapes and how things fit together. That's all."
"Well, you fit things together very well," he complimented her, putting his hand on hers and leaving it there.
Her brain short-circuited at the touch. Date. It was a date. He's holding my hand, she thought above all the other noise in her mind. He's holding my hand and I don't know what to do!
Mickey realized a long moment had gone by without her responding to his gentle pressure. She squeezed back, hoping that was the right thing to do. He smiled sweetly and she was able to breathe again. Good. Didn't fuck that up.
"When did you leave the convention?" she asked without planning to ask. Crap. The other side of her brain had momentarily won.
"What do you mean?"
"You said you came by the booth and I had left and then you got the call about your brother. I was just wondering what time that was." Shut up, shut up, shut the fuck up! she screamed inside yet she couldn't stop herself.
Suddenly, his hand was back on his side of the table. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit, her sane brain muttered to itself. Save this, somehow, you have to save this.
"I, uh, I just wished I had been there when you got the call," she tried for a save. "It must have been awful to get that call."
His face clouded over at the memory but she could see gratitude in his eyes when he finally looked at her. "It would have been nice to have someone there. I had just left my friends, figuring I'd see you and then head home. So I was alone when my sister-in-law called. They didn't have much information at that time so, yeah, it was scary."
Her sane side took over and leaned forward, putting her hand on his. He hesitated, then slowly smiled and squeezed her hand back. Whew, her sane brain sighed, just barely saved that one.
"Then you left the convention from there? Must have been around nine." Crap, the other side had escaped again. And again, his hand slid from hers.
"What's with all the questions about what time I left the convention? I had just found out that my brother was in a serious car accident so, yes, I did immediately leave the convention. What else would I have done?" Suspicion and concern colored his face, which should have been a sign for her to shut up. But, no, that didn't happen.
"I just... I thought..." she stammered, her brain once again embattled. "When I was attacked, I thought..."
"Oh, god," he interrupted. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you. If I had stopped by, maybe walked you to your car, maybe I could have saved you."
"But I thought..." she began, the clowns in her head so loud now that she wasn't sure who was in charge. "But I thought you did."
The world stopped. She'd said it. Fuck. She'd said it.
"What?"
"I... uh... I thought it was you who saved me."
He didn't say anything for hours, it seemed. Really, it was maybe two minutes. His stormy eyes evaluated her, trying to see if she was being funny or if she was serious. She saw herself being weighed and she knew it would not be good.
"Why would you think that?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
"It was dark,
" she began, trying to figure out how to tell him she knew his secret identity. "Someone came out of the dark. Someone saved me. No one knows who it was."
"And you figured it was me? Because I had seen you that afternoon?"
It did sound stupid now that he said it out loud. Laugh, her sane brain said, brush it off. Let it go and get back to the hand-holding part. That was good. Stop fucking this up!
"I just... it's just..." Just then, the waiter came by.
"Anything more for you folks?" he said glibly.
"Just the check," Rick said sharply, and Mickey knew there was no recovery. The waiter left, feeling the chilliness of the table and seeing his tip nosedive.
"Rick," Mickey began, trying to figure out how to save this night. "I know it's stupid and it sounds ridiculous. But I thought... it was dark. There was someone who saved me. He was your height, he was..."
Batman, her voices whispered. Tell him. He's Batman. He needs to tell you now. Say it. Say Batman. And somehow, "Batman" sneaked out of her lips.
"What did you say?" Rick asked, not believing he actually heard her say what he thought she said.
She pleaded with her eyes but realized it was to no avail. She had blown it. Batman or not, she would never know because she had just ruined everything. Before Rick could say another thing, Mickey grabbed her bag and ran into the night.
• • • • • • • • • • •
Of course it was raining. Doesn't it always rain at times like this?
She ran out of the restaurant. She ran down the street and down the next street. She had no idea where she was running. She just knew she had to run.
She couldn't process what she had just done. She couldn't process that she had ruined something that could have been amazing. She couldn't process that he probably wasn't Batman. She couldn't process that this might end up with her right where she didn't want to be - back on meds, back in serious therapy, back at the end of her life.
