Haven't A Clue

"Dude, you're bleeding."

"What?"

"You. Are. Bleeding." Mickey suddenly appeared, looking over me.

"From what?"

"Probably that ass-kicking you just took. Here, give me your hand." I stuck my hand into his and he pulled me up.

As I stood up, I could feel something gooey and warm on the side of my face. I put my hand up to it and pulled it away - blood. And lots of it. And it appeared to be mine.

"What the hell?"

"Nic, come on. We should get you cleaned up. Is Jayme at home?" Mickey handed me a rag to sop up some of the blood.

"Yeah, I think so. Give her a call." I threw him my cell phone and listened while he called Jayme, my ex-girlfriend. We weren't exactly on speaking terms, but she did live awfully close. I'd rather put up with her for a little while than go to a hospital.

The throbbing started full-force and I couldn't hear any of what Mickey was saying. Ah, it didn't matter anyway - I was damn sure that my head was going to explode with the horrendous pounding going on inside. I wandered over to the curb and sat down with my head in my hands.

"Yeah, sure. We'll be right there." Mickey hung up and walked over to where I was hanging my head, trying to stop the thumping. "Hey, Jayme said we can stop by, but if you try any funny stuff, she'll give you something to bleed about."

I looked up at him and laughed. "Look, I can barely stand. My head is going to explode. Jayme's worried that I'm going to try to get back together with her like this?"

"Um, well, yeah."

"You people... sometimes..." I reached up for Mickey's hand and pulled myself upright. He walked me to his truck on the other side of the parking lot and loaded me up. He's usually a really reckless driver - reckless as in lucky to have a license, nevermind be alive - but he drove the four blocks to Jayme's like he was 80 years old.

When he pulled up to her place, she was standing outside. With a baseball bat. I looked out the passenger window at her and she screamed. I looked back at Mickey and said, "You still love me, right?"

"Yeah, buddy. Let's get you out of here and into her place where you can at least lie down." Mickey got out and opened my door. I half climbed out/fell out, into his arms. Jayme came running up behind him and took one side - the non-bloody side. All three of us staggered into Jayme's house and they sat me down on the couch.

"Nic! What the hell did you do?"

"He lipped some guy off at the bar." Mickey was keeping me up by pulling on my right shoulder. He took the ice pack Jayme handed him and put it against my face.

"Jesus fucking Christ! What the hell did you do that for?" I jumped back and took the pack from Mickey. Gingerly, I set it back up against my face, hoping that it would help.

"Geez. Try to help a guy, and this is what I get." Mickey took his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one. I motioned for him to give me one and he handed his pack to Jayme. She looked at it and took one for herself. I motioned to her to give me one and she stuck one in my mouth and lit it for me. Outside of her helping me from Mickey's truck to her place, that was the most physical contact we've had in years.

"So, what did you say? I've never known you to do something stupid like that."

"Well, Jayme, I've changed a lot in the last few years." I took a drag and looked at her with what I hoped was a 'I've moved on, you bitch' look. I have a feeling it was more of a 'I just lost my puppy" look.

"Sure, whatever." She stood up and headed to the kitchen. "Mickey, do you want anything to drink?"

"Um, yeah. Can I get a beer?"

"Hey, what about me?" I know the game Jayme was playing, but come on - I'm injured! I might need medical assistance. She can't get me a beer?

"You've obviously gone over your limit tonight." She turned and grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge and tossed one to Mickey.

"What? Have you been into the drugs again? And who the hell are you to judge me?"

"Let's just say I've been through this before."

"What the hell? Mickey, tell her she's wrong."

"Sorry, man. This is one fight I'm not getting involved in. I'll just sit here and drink my lovely beer." He sat back in his chair and looked expectantly at both of us.

"Nic, you have always had a problem with alcohol..."

"WHAT?"

"You have. I've seen you drunk more times than sober." She sat back in her chair and took a sip of her beer.

My eyes were huge and my jaw was dropped when I looked at Mickey, who was sniggering into his can. I looked back at Jayme and she looked like she was trying to hold her laughter in.

"Jayme, he didn't have anything to drink tonight. All Nic did was 'accidentally' insult this guy's girlfriend. He didn't know they were together and the guy hauled Nic out to the parking lot and beat the shit out of him."

"Well, I wouldn't say he beat the shit out of me... I'm still conscious." I took the ice pack away from my head and put my hand up against it. Yeah, there'd definitely be a bruise for a few days.

"What did you say about his girlfriend?" Jayme leaned forward and touched the wound. I jumped back and put the pack back on it.

"We were sitting at the bar with a few other people and Nic says 'Look at that woman! It looks like she put her make-up on in the dark.' I turned around and looked at who he was pointing at..."

"Wait. Describe her."

"Why? So you can judge whether or not I was right in pointing her out?"

"Of course."

I leaned back in the couch and could see her clear as a bell in my head - she was 5'8", thin, badly dyed 'blonde' hair cut into a bad 1980s shag, dressed like it was 1987, and then there's the makeup.

"She, uh, had blush from the corners of her mouth up to the corners of her eyes. Her lipstick was the exact same colour. The eye-shadow was a really bright blue. Ugh... it wasn't pretty." The shivers of shock were unavoidable. That is one woman I wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.

Jayme and Mickey were laughing, which made me start. Mickey and I had the benefit of seeing this woman in person, Jayme had to use her imagination to put the picture together. I think she was pretty close to what we saw.

"And her boyfriend took exception to this?" Jayme was wiping tears out of the corners of her eyes.

"Apparently. He wasn't much to look at either. Bad perm - with a mullet, of course, acid washed jeans & jacket, ratty old cowboy boots. He turned to me at the bar and said 'Whatchyou talking about my woman like that, you fag?' So before I had a chance to stand up, he pulled me up off my stool and dragged me outside."

"Where he kicked your ass... For crying out loud, Nic, why didn't you fight back?"

"It might have had something to do with his friends. They followed us out of the bar and stood around us while he beat the snot out of me."

"Yeah, they weren't a crowd to be messing with. No way. Can I grab another one of these, Jayme?" Mickey stood up and walked over to the kitchen and grabbed three beers. Jayme took mine and opened it for me. I'm sure if I let her, she'd put a straw into it too.

"So, why didn't you try to help him, Mickey?"

"Um, these guys were big. I'm not. And like being in one piece."

"So you let them beat up Nic? What the fuck...?" Jayme turned to Mickey and started ripping into him. I sat back and closed my eyes. Behind my eyelids, I could see faint light, but the throbbing was stopping. I took a few deep breaths and let those two fight it out.

I've known Jayme and Mickey for pretty much the same length of time - about 8 years. I met Mickey at a summer camp where I was a counsellor the summer before university and I met Jayme on my first day of university.

Mickey's my best bud. Before tonight, I was sure that we'd stick up for each other, but now... I'm not so sure. I don't have any hard feeling towards him, but come on. I'd step in for him anytime, anywhere. Mind you, he is 5'4" and 120 lbs. soaking wet holding a concrete block. He could trip someone for me if I needed him to.

I love the guy like a brother. He's closer to me than my half-brothers, that's for sure, and I've known those brats since I was 8. But Mickey and I, we're just great together. Lots of shit disturbing, tons of fun, and always a good time.

Then there's Jayme. Sweet Jayme, or so I used to think. We met as I was walking to my physics class. She happened to be coming out of the lab at the same time I was going in. I looked at her and thought she was pretty cute. She's still got the same long blonde hair, but it's a little darker now. I think she dyes it, I've never really cared. It's the softest stuff in the world - I think it's what clouds feel like. She's fairly tall, too - 5'11". She was a major athlete in high school, but gave it all up when she started university. She got a little soft, but was still good looking enough to not be shunned by society.

Jayme's an only child, which led to a lot of problems between us. I have two non-half (real?) sisters and three half-brothers, and we were all in the same house for 7 years before someone left. I'm used to not getting my way and having to share. Jayme is not. She typifies the spoiled little rich girl - the house she currently lives in was bought and paid for by her parents. Her kick-ass sports car - ditto. She travelled Europe for a year before going into university. I resented a lot it, but we made it work most of the time.

The three of us would get into so much trouble so often it was second nature to us. But we never got caught, so it was more fun. We did the the typical stupid stuff - shoplift, drink, fight - but we stuck together.

I started dating Jayme when we were 20. Well, she's a year older than me but only by a few months. Mickey was a little put out for a while, but we managed to keep him included in most of our activities, and eventually he came around.

When Jayme and I graduated from university - me with a general arts degree, her with a degree (with honours) in geography, we moved in together. That's when it started going downhill. After two years of basically hanging out and spending the night together every few days, spending almost all of our time together like that was too much. We broke up after a few months and haven't really been on good term since. Tonight was the first night I'd spoken to her and seen her for a long, long time.

"Nic? Are you okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah. I'm fine. I think the swelling has gotten about as big as it's going to. Can I take a look in a mirror or something?" I slowly stood up and Mickey helped me to the bathroom. Jayme followed behind.

I turned the light on and looked at my face. The left side was a mess - crusted blood, a nasty bruise and swelling that almost closed my eye. "Wow." I leaned in closer to get a better look - it wasn't much better.

"Yeah, he did quite a number on you, man." Mickey moved over so Jayme could look closer. I could see him look at her behind my back and make a disgusted face.

"Um, Mickey, can you give us a bit of room so I can clean him up a bit?" Jayme opened a cupboard and started taking out fresh cloths and peroxide. Mickey squeezed behind me and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Jayme turned my head so she could look at me head-on. "Nic. You are one sorry looking son-of-a-bitch." She took one of her cloths and ran some warm water over it.

"Yeah, I know." I shrugged and let her wipe off as much blood as she could.

"What were you going to do if I wasn't home?" She took another cloth and put a bit of peroxide on it.

"Ouch! Watch what you're doing. I don't know. It wasn't my idea to call you. All I remember was Mickey leaning over me and I handed him my phone when he said he was going to check if you were home."

"Well, it's a good thing I was. I thought maybe you two were joking. I mean, how many fights have you been in?" She took a dry cloth and wiped up the rest of the blood, water and peroxide.

"Besides the ones with you? None."

"Those weren't fights like this."

"I know... they could have been, though."

"Yeah, sure. I would have kicked your ass." She leaned down to get some ointment out of a drawer, but I could see her smiling. I'm not a big believer in beating the crap out of women and she knows that if I tried to lay a hand on her, she would have put a stop to it quite fast.

"Look, Jayme..."

"Nic. I'm doing this as a favour to Mickey. This doesn't mean anything." She tilted my head to the right to get better lighting while she rubbed ointment into the wound. The pressure was light, but I could feel the warmth of her fingers through the cream.

"Yeah, I know I just want to say sorry. For everything."

"Mm-hmm. I've heard that one before."

"Come on, Jayme. I mean it."

"Nic, you haven't changed a bit. I haven't either. But we're not meant to be."

"You think I'm coming on to you?" I looked at her reflection in the mirror. She was wiping her hands on a towel and the look her face made it quite clear that's exactly what she thought I was doing.

"I'm not sure we can even be friends, Nic. There's too much there."

"I'm not asking to be friends."

"Then what are you asking?"

"I don't know." I turned to look at her. If she'd been wearing those damn heels she usually wore, I'd have to almost look up to her. But flat-footed, I had to look down a fraction of an inch. "I definitely did not expect this night to turn out this way, with us discussing this particular topic in your bathroom."

"Well, no, I didn't think so. But what did you expect when you came here?"

"A lot of yelling. A lot of blaming. A lot of negativity."

"Look, Nic, let's just put this behind us and go on with our lives. Separately." She turned around, opened the door and walked into the living room. "Mickey, I've cleaned him up. You can take him home now."

Mickey stood up and came over to where I was standing. He looked at the left side of my head and nodded. "Yep, she did a good job. It'll look like hell in the morning, but she did a good job. Shall we?" He opened the door and motioned for me to go.

"Hey, thanks, Jayme. You didn't have to." I waved to her and walked out. Mickey went ahead and opened the passenger door for me to get in.

"So what did you guys talk about in there?" He lit two cigarettes, one for me, one for him and put the truck into gear.

"Nothing, it turns out. I told her I was sorry about everything and she blew me off."

"Well, what the hell do you expect? You fucked her over, man." I could see the outline of Mickey's face in the dashboard lights. I can only imagine what passing vehicles saw - a tiny little man driving a huge-ass truck with a gruesome looking passenger.

"I didn't fuck her over. We just... grew apart."

"Yeah, sure." He rolled his window down to spit. Turning to look at me, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "If you wanted it to work, you would have made it work."

"I tried."

"No, you didn't."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"Think back to the last few months of you two living together."

I remember it like it was yesterday, when in fact it was four years ago. I knew something was wrong between us, but I thought I could fix it if I wasn't home so much. So I went to the bar. And then another one, and another one, and so on. Most nights I made it home, I was pissed out of my skull. I have no idea how I thought that would help, but I kept doing it. I never picked up anyone at the bar, but I made damn sure I talked to as many people as I could.

The straw that broke the camel's back was the night I came home, drunk as usual, to Jayme sitting in the living room.

"You're finally home." She was on the couch with a blanket around her. The television was on, but I could tell she wasn't watching it.

"Yep." I took off my shoes and hung up my coat. I went over and sat beside her.

"You smell like a brewery." She shuffled over to the farthest corner.

"Do I?" I smelled my shirt. It smelled like smoke, but no brewery smell. "That's never made a difference before."

"Well, it does now. Go to bed."

"No."

"Then tell me what you've been doing out until this time of night."

"I was at the bar."

"Which one?"

"I don't know. The bar."

"Nic, if you can't remember which bar you were at, you have a problem. A big problem."

"Ah, it's nothing."

"No, it's a big thing. I've given you every chance to change, but you won't."

"Ha! You've never said anything about chances to change."

"Why should I? Couldn't you see it yourself? Things aren't right between us."

"Yeah, I know that. I thought I could fix it if I wasn't around so much."

"Oh! That's a brilliant plan. Stay away from the situation. Do you think I'm the problem?" She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at me challenginly.

"Maybe."

"No, Nic. You aren't the problem, either."

I looked at her, slightly shocked. I was totally expecting to be blamed for this. "I'm not?"

"No. We are the problem. We aren't working."

"Oh."

"So it's over."

I slumped back into the couch and quickly sobered up. It's amazing how fast you can do that when you have to. "Are you sure?"

"Yep." She hugged her knees and refused to look at me.

"Ok. If that's the way you feel..." I stood up and started to pack my bags. I owned nothing in the house, only my own clothes. I had everything ready to go in half an hour. I picked up my bags and walked out of our room. Jayme was still sitting on the couch, her arms around her knees.

"Well... I guess this is it. I, uh, I'll see you later."

"No, Nic. You won't see me later."

"Ok. I'll be at Mickey's if you want to, ah, talk or anything." I stood rooted to the floor for a few minutes, hoping she'd change her mind or something. Even yelling at me was better than this.

"I don't think I'll need to talk."

"Yeah. I'll... Bye." I walked out the door and put my bags on the lawn. I called Mickey on my cell phone and he picked me up. I crashed at his place for a few weeks before I found a place of my own. It was almost a year before I got back into things.

Breaking up with Jayme was the worst thing I've been through. Even my parent's divorce wasn't that bad. She was everything to me... it was wierd not being around her all the time. I'm thankful that Mickey was around and helped me as much as he could, but it took a long time.

"Yeah, I admit I could have done a lot more." I looked at Mickey as he took the corner to our street really tight.

"A hell of a lot more. Geez, if I had a girl like that and I fucked it up, I sure as hell wouldn't expect her to ever speak to me again." He pulled into his drive way and hopped out of the truck. As he came around to my side, I put my hand up to my head and touched the swelling. Definitely not sleeping on my left side that night.

Mickey pulled me out of the cab and walked me across his lawn to my house. We didn't plan on buying houses side-by-side, but we lucked out. Mickey considered his house a place to store his belongings, while I took pride in my house and made it a place where I lived.