Jacqueline Druga - The Flu

Dustin, as best as he could, grabbed tighter to Mick. “Then I guess it’s okay, huh? Scared’s not so bad now.”

Another squeeze conveyed his feelings to Dustin, then Mick pulled back from the embrace. He aimed a hard emotional stare at Dustin followed by a smile. “I’ll be…” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right back.” His hand firm on Dustin’s, Mick leaned down and pressed his lips hard against Dustin’s forehead, leaving them there for a moment. “I’ll be back.” He couldn’t look at Dustin for another second. Face red, his body feeling like a volcano ready to erupt, Mick hurried from the room past Dylan and Chris who had just stepped in.

Down the steps, across the living room, through the kitchen and out the back door. Mick didn’t stop until he reached the back yard.

What he wanted to do was just let go. Drop to the ground, curl up like a child and break down, allowing everything he felt to flow out. But he couldn’t. Something told him he just had to be strong, but strength was difficult to come by just then. Mick fought and fought to keep it inside. His fist clenched as his body tensed up, and a fireball of pain shot from his gut and radiated through his chest. Turning sharply, he faced the single tree in the back yard. Muffled by the image Mick had to project, he growled out an anguished scream as he raged his fist into the side of the tree.

The connection with the bark didn’t even pinch his fist. Mick’s emotional agony overshadowed his physical pain. His mouth parted in a silent cry that he tried diligently to keep inside, he leaned into the tree.

Mick was lost in this moment, hurling out all of the pain that he felt as if the tree could absorb it for him. He couldn’t move; he was frozen there. His reaction time slowed, and he realized it when he couldn’t pull himself together when he heard the crunch of leaves near him.

Slowly, with his forehead lowered to his arm against the tree trunk, Mick looked up at his visitor.

Lars took another step forward. “I’ve had many new experiences with this flu. You… you have just driven home to me the true meaning of pain.” Another step closer, and Lars’ voice whispered. “It’s all right, Mick. It is all right to let it out.”

Mick turned around and leaned his back against the tree, his voice growling his pain. “Oh my God, Lars. Pain. You said pain. I have been shot, stabbed, beat up… but I have never in my life felt a pain like this.” Mick’s arms crossed tight, squeezing against his own midsection. “I can’t take it. I cannot take what I am feeling right now.”

“I won’t pretend to know what you are going through, you or Dylan. I can only imagine. I am so sorry that you are feeling such pain.” Lars moved to him.

“The mother in Cleveland.”

“Excuse me?”

Mick swallowed and took a deep breath; he let it out slowly as he stared at the sky. “You said a while ago, the mother in Cleveland who knew she was losing her child. You wanted to stop a mother in Lodi from feeling that.”

Lars remembered that speech well. “Yes, I recall saying that. Mick, I tried.”

“You did it,” Mick said. “You did.” He sniffed hard. “Dylan just so happened to end up being the mother you saved and the mother in Cleveland.” He growled out softly, “God.” Closing his eyes Mick stepped away from the tree. “I keep wanting to ask ‘why’.” He looked at Lars. “Is that stupid? I know there is no answer to that question. But I keep wanting to ask.”

“Everyone does. Those who survived, those still ill, and all of you who are losing someone. Why.” Lars dropped his voice. “You’re right. There is no answer to why some were spared. The injection perhaps, gambling with the timing, poor genetics… good genetics.” He shrugged. “No reason.”

“And it’s not over. Not for us. We were confident after Chris beat this. We’re hanging on to futile hope with Dustin. Lars…” Mick breathed out his words, “I had to change his bed. He thought…” Mick squinted his eyes in pain as he spoke. “Dustin thought, you know, that he had an accident.” Another shudder of emotions escaped him. “Blood. Lars, all there was, was blood on that bed. Blood. I’m not handling this well.”

“Yes, you are.”

Mick shook his head. “No… no, I’m not. I’m trying to look like I am, for Dylan, for Dustin. But I’m not. I’m dying. I’m physically dying inside. And we still have Tigger to worry about.”

“No, you don’t.” Lars reached into his back pocket. “That’s why I’m here. To ease your mind, even if just a little.” He held up a folded sheet of paper. “Lou Smith, you know him, he’s immune. His son Craig, nine, immune, too. Brian Watts, immune. His six year old son Lenny is immune. Genetics, Mick. You’re immune. Only goes to figure…” Lars handed him a sheet of paper. “So is your son.”

Mick didn’t open the paper, he took it, and closed his eyes.

“Tigger is your son, Mick. Did you know that, or did I just drop the bombshell of the century here?”

Mick’s words dragged as he spoke. “No. I knew. We… we knew. How did you…?”

“When he came down for his daily flu testing, I had to run an immunity test. I had to. There was no reason whatsoever for that boy to be well. He, of all people, with his medical history should have fallen first.” Lars watched Mick nod. “But, I have to say, I’m shocked. I’ve known you your entire life, Mick. I would have never thought you to be one to…”

“Deny my child?” Mick asked. “Let me tell you something, Lars,” his voice deepened as he answered, “never.” Mick raised his eyebrow. “It was not what I wanted to do. Come on, you know mine and Dylan’s history. I’ve loved her forever. We always hooked up, innocently though, when her and Sam would split. But that one time… that one break up, I thought that was it. I did. She made love to me, and that told me so much. She wouldn’t have gone that far, that deep, if it wasn’t really over with Sam.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No. After about a month, they got back together. Dylan… was pregnant.” He tossed up his hands. “We found out shortly after their reunion, and there wasn’t a doubt it was my child because their reunion hadn’t become physical yet.”

“What did you do?” Lars asked.

“I wanted the baby. I wanted the chance. It was my chance to have Dylan. To have a family. To finally have it all. Chris was just starting Little League then. And I remember thinking how great it was gonna be that I would be more than just ‘Mick’ at those games. I went to every one of those games, you know. Dustin’s, too.” Mick winked softly as he nodded his head. “I never missed a moment in these boys’ lives. Dylan was my best friend, and they were the closest thing I had to my own kids.”

“Then came Tigger.”

“Then came Tigger,” Mick said. “Sam knew. And it kicked my ass that he was so understanding about it. Sam’s attitude was he just wanted to get past it, move on, put the incident behind us. We were all friends. But it wasn’t Sam’s attitude that dictated this situation. Not at all. He called another one of his little meetings.” Mick chuckled. “I was determined, I wanted my kid. But what changed me was Dustin and Chris. I looked at them that night. They had their mom, their dad… their family. And all the good I have ever done, all the looking up to me that they did, would be…” Mick snapped his fingers, “gone, the second I stepped into the picture in a different role. So we decided that no one would know Tigger was my kid. Sam would raise him, treat him as his own, Tigger would call him… Dad. I was allowed to see him as much as I wanted, spend time with him alone. But it never happened, that alone time I mean. It felt unfair to do that. So I ended taking all the boys for overnights and trips.”