Hurricane

Mikey did come back, but it was early in the morning. I hadn't slept, my body ached and my head still swirled. He sat on the bed, beside me, while I was lying down, and then he put his hand on my stomach. I looked over at him, his tired eyes met mine, he leaned over and kissed me. He kissed me slowly, his hand cupped my jaw then, and he pulled me closer; his attitude had done a total 180.

When he pulled away, he kept his face close to mine. He had shut his eyes, kicked his shows off and laid beside me, resting his head on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rooney. I'm so sorry."

I swallowed the lump growing, "For what?" I asked softly.

"Everything." He murmured.

I put my hand to his cheek, "I forgive you."

I had forgiven him, and that set the wheels in motion, for him to keep that little leash on me. He felt as if he could do whatever he wanted with me, because I forgave him so easily. I never stopped him either, when he did.

Mikey was my whole entire world.


I became a redhead less than a day later; Mikey cut his hair, letting his lightened roots show. He was now James and I was Marie McCoy; we had to drive to the Midwest to get our new documents, and I was more than uncomfortable because you were kicking and shifting more.

Mikey and I had been on better terms, though we didn't talk much. We had decided to stay in some small town in the Midwest, and I went to see a midwife there. She had told me it would be best if I stayed put in the town for two weeks, until you made your debut.

Again, we found a small apartment that was close to the hospital. Mikey and I stayed in, we didn't want to get any suspicious looks or make any new friends. We wanted to have you then go away...somewhere far.

"What about Florida?" He asked with a yawn, "It's kinda warm, y'know, and nothing but old folks live there."

"I don't really care," I told him, "wherever is fine."

We hadn't really thought of where we would go. We didn't know where we would go. We only wanted to be happy.

"My head hurts," he grumbled tiredly, "I hadn't had anything in days."

"Why not?"

"I can't keep dipping into the stash...I need to move it all, we're running low on cash."

I nodded, lying beside him in our bed; it was new and felt too springy. It needed to be lived in.

"Do you ever think about going home?" Mikey asked me quietly; he was facing me, but his eyes were adverted over my shoulder.

"No. I have nothing to go home to. I don't really think my mother misses me...I think she likes the attention."

Mikey finally looked at me, "I miss Gerard...I want him to meet the baby."

I didn't know how to respond. 

"Sometimes, I want you to go to the police station." He murmured truthfully.

"For what?" I asked, surprised.

"So you don't have to live like this anymore. You can go home, raise our baby right..."

I touched him cheek, like I had done before, "I told you I wasn't going to leave you, I go wherever you go."

"You don't need this. I think my head is all fucked up." He swallowed thickly, looking down at my stomach.

"I don't know how to make you feel better. I love you, Mikey." I kissed his forehead, then the tip of his nose and then his lips.

He kissed back hesitantly, "I love you, too, Ladonna. Will you marry me?"

I smiled, nodding, "Yes...but I thought we were already married."

He smiled back, "I mean in real life, not on paper." 

"How are we going to do that?"

"We could go to Vegas, after the baby is born, and just let everyone fucking know, and then disappear. We could go overseas...like to Italy or London..." His eyes lit up, and I hadn't seen Mikey that happy in the longest time.

"Whatever you want Mikey, I'll be right beside you."


Two weeks had gone by quickly, and Mikey had quit his habit completely, but he ate like a pig. He and I both, actually. He started to gain weight, quite quickly I might add. But, it seemed to balance his body out.

He had his sandy hair back, back to when I first had met him. He had to give up the contacts, and he stuck with these newer black frames that made him look hip. His mood was even better, and things seemed to be looking up.

With my due date approaching, Mikey had begun to make plans for us, but he kept them from me. He wanted it to be a surprise for him, and I didn't pester him. I was happy, really, really happy.

It was August 12th, a Thursday, when my water broke. I was scared, excited, and nervous as hell. I remember I had been cleaning up when that unforgettable splash made me panic. It was about 10 pm, and Mikey had gone to get some fast food. I didn't know what to do, every single thought about birth, that I had read flashed in my brain.

Then, Mikey walked in, shoveling Burger King fries into his mouth.

"You drop something?" He asked with a full mouth.

"My water broke." I told him, "She's coming. Isabel is coming." I was oddly calm, but had a edge of panic to my tone.

"Shit," Mikey looked around, "Shit, I have to call Margie, right? The midwife?"

I nodded, "I think so."

I can't remember the pain, but it hurt a lot. I remember moaning a nd groaning, and Mikey sitting me in the bed. He kissed my forehead as he grabbed the telephone and called Margie...the midwife.

She had me sit in the bathtub, after seeing you were ready to come out. She said that you were coming very quickly, and it was really, really odd. She hadn't seen it before. 

I was happy that you'd be here so quickly, but not quick enough.

You were born on August 13th, at 12:01 am. Mikey had smiled, grinned, and I was surprise his cheeks hadn't burst. You didn't have much hair, but it looked golden, with a tint of brown. You cried like your daddy, and as soon as I held you, I fell in love with you. Mikey held you after Margie had delivered you, and he counted your toes and fingers.

I heard him say he was sorry for calling you It. I don't think, he thinks, I heard him. I did, and it made my day even better.


Margie checked me out and let me stay home, since I refused to go to the hospital. She had filled out your birth certificate; you were originally named Isabel Rooney Way McCoy, to fit our story. Now, your name is Isabel Lee Way.

"We should call her Jinx," Mikey had joked, holding you, "She was born on Friday the 13th. That's fucking cool. I have a cool baby."

I had smiled and fell tired, "Izzy. We'll call her Izzy."

"I like Jinx, it'll be my nickname for her." I don't think he ever wanted to let you go, "I love her."

You had melted his cold heart. Even if you think he doesn't love you, Izzy, he does. He's uncomfortable, but he loves you...he's just mad at me.