The Conversation
      Chapter 2
 

"That first night we met, at Millennium, I was filled with, with so much hatred and frustration when I went there. My brother had been killed, the other families denied their hand in it, so I was sent to find his killer."

"Me. You were sent to find me."

"Tell me… tell me how you were feeling that night. What was going on?"

He knew that he needed to be careful with this, but if they were going to get to the heart of the matter, he had to ask her the hardest questions. They held each other's hands the entire night.

She hated thinking back to these times, when she was so riddled with guilt over murdering Mick that she couldn't look at herself in the mirror, the times that she was forced to go against everything ingrained in her.

"Um, well… you know, you know how that night on the beach went. I did tell you about that."

He nodded. She told him everything she could. How frightened she was of Mick, how she thought he was going to rape and kill her, and how, out of sheer desperation, she hit him on the head to save herself and Drew. He knew better than to take her back to that night.

"That night at Millennium… I felt so guilty, Danny. I killed someone. Me. I wanted to be a doctor and I had taken a life. Maybe he wasn't innocent, but I know that didn't mean he deserved it, either."

"This isn't about placing blame…"

"I know. I'm just telling you how I was feeling, and I was feeling alone and scared, even though Drew, Bill and Jesse knew, I still felt so alone. I wanted to tell someone, anyone, who could, I don't know, punish me? This sounds stupid…"

"No, it doesn't, baby… I understand that. Trust me, I know what guilt feels like."

They shared a familiar smile, though the comfort that usually accompanied them wasn't there.

"Ok, well, I almost told Rick that night, but couldn't go through with it. I had called Harley to…"

"Harley? Isn't that Phillip's wife? Why would you tell her?"

"Harley and I used to be close, I trusted her. I needed to tell somebody, anybody who could tell me what to do. I needed to be told that whatever decision I was going to make would be the right one."

"Justification?"

"No, not justification for killing Mick. I just knew that, where I was, how I was thinking, I knew I couldn't trust my own thoughts. From every direction - Drew, Bill, Jesse – they were all telling me to keep quiet or else we'd all be dead. It was so unreal, Danny. One minute I'm an average suburban college student, the next my life is in danger. And Drew kept telling me about all the drug dealers who would be after Mick's killers. Between that and Bill and Jesse not wanting me to get in any trouble, I just caved. I did whatever they said, no matter how much I wanted to tell the truth."

It began to make sense to him, her state of mind that night.

"And that night I came to Millennium, you were on edge. Was that why?"

"Yeah. We saw you come in and we thought you were a cop."

He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony of it all.

"I remember. I remember how crowded it was that night. And I remember seeing you from across the room, before I even asked you guys anything. You know I could've asked anyone about the owners, right? But I came to you."

A part of her that she never knew existed before suddenly jumped up into her throat. For some reason, the idea that he wanted her, even then, stimulated her.

"Why?"

"Who knows? I saw you, you looked scared. Plus, your friends were eyeing me and they looked nervous. I figured that it was as good a place to start as any."

"Tell me more."

"I wasn't stupid, you know. You guys weren't fooling me. I knew something was going on, I just couldn't put my finger on it. The way they found Mick, blunt force trauma to the head, I knew it wasn't a professional hit. The families, they're not sloppy."

"I wouldn't imagine so, you know, practice."

Her attempt at a joke goes unnoticed by Danny, who's suddenly thrown back to that night.

"So many people… I was so angry, at everyone, everything. I had so many questions. I just wanted someone to point to the person who killed Mick and it would be over. His death would be avenged, like my mother had ordered, and it would be over. Finally."

She sees his knuckles whiten as they grip her hand tightly. She pulls her hand out and places it around his balled-up fists. He snaps out of his daze and looks at her inquisitive eyes. The trust in his eyes gives her the courage to ask him something she's always wanted to know. She asks slowly.

"When she told you to kill…how did you feel?"

What started as a way to get to her inner truth was turning into an excavation of his deepest demons, his worst moments. These were moments he never wanted to re-live. The moment his mother asked him to take another life. He's quiet as he remembers that night in his head. Finally, as she squeezes his hand, a tear falls from his eye, a single tear, and he opens his soul to her. He lets her in.

"Mick was a good brother when we were young. He took care of me and Ray, he looked out for us at school and with the other kids. I looked up to him. I did. And I felt so sorry for him. Nothing was ever expected of him. The future of the family belonged to me, and I never wanted it. My father, for all his faults, was good to Pilar and I. He understood that I wasn't like Mick, that I wasn't like my mother. But when he died…"

More tears start forming as he throws his head back to prevent their suicidal leap from the corners of his eyes. Michelle's grip on his hands tightens. She wants nothing more than to end this right here and now, but she knows that all of this has to come out. She knows that now. Tonight is as much about what he needs to say and accept about his life as it is about their marriage and their need to settle the past before they plan a future. His head plunges forward, the tears instead crawling a slow death to his chin.

"…oh god, when he died, it was over. Any chance I had to be just a normal kid died with him. I loved him so much, Michelle. After he was gone, everything changed. Pilar had already been sent away, so my sister was gone. Mick took it hard, too. Nobody ever saw that. Nobody ever cared what his death did to Mick. He, he went crazy, he went over the edge. Nobody could stop him from the drug deals, all the gambling, all the drinking. And every time he got in trouble, my mother would get him out of it, but never expected anything else from him, never expected anything better. He was worth nothing to her, and she made sure he knew it."

He's calmer now as he wipes the stray remnants of liquid from his face.

"So when Mick died…", Michelle starts, trying to keep him on track.

"When he died, a part of me died too. A part of me that my father raised. He never let Mick get out of control. He wanted him to be tough, but never a danger to himself or to the family. That was unacceptable. He kept Mick in check. After my father was gone, Mick saw no reason to hold back. And I knew that part of my responsibility as my father's son was to try and do just that – hold him back. But I couldn't."

"Why?"

"He was out of control, I told you…"

She knows there's more. She just keeps her eyes on his, forcing him to be honest with himself, and with her. He breaks their line of sight and looks everywhere but at her. He can't lie to her. He never could.

"I didn't want to," he says quietly.

"Go on."

Her grip that held him together slowly moves up his arm, stroking his forearm. God how he loves her. He hates this part of himself. If she can sit through this and still love him, he thinks, he knows he can survive anything with her by his side.

"I didn't want to help him because if I did then I'd be giving up the little control I had over my life. He was my brother, I loved him, but… but I hated him for what he had done to my father, to my sister, even to Carmen. But especially, I hated him for what he did to me. He gave up on us. He gave up on me. We weren't worth it, and he tried to hurt us any way he could."

"What did he do?"

"Pilar… I remember hearing her crying at night. I would go in and see what was wrong. I would just hold her as she told me how cold Mick was to her, how he ignored her. She was only home a few weeks out of the year and he treated her like she was nothing."

New tears find their way to the trails left by the last salty droplets.

"He shamed our father's name every chance he got, talking big to the other families about how my father cheated them when he knew it wasn't true. He resented my father for… god… for caring about me more. He wanted to head the family into the new century, he wanted it all. But my father made it perfectly clear that he couldn't be trusted with that job. Mick hated him for that, and he let everyone know it."

He pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues.

"And he hated me for it, too. Whether it was a deal that he screwed up to make me look bad, or hitting on a girl hey thought I was interested in, he did anything he could to screw up my life. My perfect life, or so he thought. So… when I saw him self-destructing, I knew I could've stepped in and stopped him…"

"It doesn't sound like he would've let you anyway…"

"No, but I could've done it. He would've hated me more, but I could've done it. But the point is… is that I didn't. I stood back and I watched him. I watched him botch up drug deals, I watched him go into back alleys when I could've backed him up. I just didn't do it. And then…"

"What? Then what?"

"Then he told me about you. About this girl, how he wanted you."

Just the thought of Mick saying those things made her begin to shake inside. He lifted his right hand out of her grasp and gently outlined her brow with his thumb, drinking in the very essence of her, calming her, assuring her that she's safe now, that Mick can't hurt her. Lowering his hand, he begins to stroke hers with that very same thumb.

"I listened casually, and I heard your name… Michelle… Michelle… he said you wanted him too, but I knew he was lying. No woman wanted him, not the way he would treat them. I just figured that you didn't exist. That Michelle didn't exist. The last time he mentioned you was about a week before he died…"

"How did you find out?"

"Ironically enough, the cops showed up at our front door. I identified the body that afternoon before I went to the club."

"And?"

"I'd be lying if I said I was surprised to see him end up dead. I wasn't. I was actually…"

The words get caught up in his throat as he looks down and sees Michelle's wedding ring. He grazes it, needing to touch base with the reality that has changed his life. His wife, his child. He's safe. He can do this.

"…relieved. I was relieved that he was dead…"

The tears flowed heavily now as his body began convulsing in agony.

"…Oh god, I was actually glad…"

His head falls down onto her lap as his hands still clutch hers for dear life. She won't let him go, he knows that. Her face is strong, her hands gentle as she releases one from his grasp and strokes his hair. This man who has been so strong for everyone else, who has been her rock during the worst times in her life needs her strength now. He stays there for minutes as his breathing eventually evens out and he finally sits up and wipes any signs of tears from his war-torn face. She hasn't said a word. She doesn't need to.

When he finally feels the nerve to look at her, he's greeted with the kindest eyes he's ever seen in his life. Eyes full of love. Her lips curve into an accepting smile and now he knows that he can continue walking on this tightrope of emotions without any fear. If he falls again, she will catch him.

"She told me to eliminate whoever killed Mick. I had never killed anyone before in my life, and she knew that. She knew that it was never in me to be like Mick, or even be like my father. That was the day… that was the day that I began to hate my mother."

"Because she knew you couldn't do it?"

"Yeah, which made me want to do it more, just to prove her wrong. So you see, I'm not exactly that good man you talked about earlier."

She knows better than to try and argue with this point right now.

"Were you scared?"

"Scared? I was terrified. To shoot someone. To take their life. To have their blood on my hands, on my conscience. But I knew I could do it. I did. But I didn't think I could live with myself afterward. But she hammered it into me that day – honor, family, loyalty, revenge – honor, family, loyalty, revenge – over and over again, so much that it literally made me sick. I got to Millennium that night with those words invading every thought, until…"

"Until what?"

"Until I saw you."