Blow My House Down

Chapter 33

I woke up, groggily groping for Micky, trying to burrow into his warmth. But his side of the bed was cold. I sat up in bed, blinking rapidly to will the sleep from my eyes. He was by the window, having pulled the arm chair across the room.

"Micky?" I said sleepily. "Come back to bed."

He looked over at me; I clearly had interrupted his thinking. He obliged and crawled back into bed with me, pulling me to him. I had almost fallen back asleep when he whispered, "Kat... what do I mean to you?"

I snuggled closer to him. "Everything. You're my best friend."

"But you don't treat me like it."

I patted his chest and yawned. "I'll buy you more burgers, Micky, just shhhh and go back to sleep."

Micky sighed. I drifted back off to sleep.

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A month had gone by. December 19, 1965. It was only a couple weeks before 1966. We were on our way to Connecticut to visit Cecily's family for the holidays. Cecily invited Peter, Micky, and I to come, and at last minute, invited Mike and Annie. I don't know if it was Cecily's graciousness or holiday spirit, or even possibly Peter's intervention, that had them on the plane with us. But they were here and they weren't speaking to us.

Micky and I hadn't changed. He never brought up our kisses. We didn't talk about what we meant to each other. He hung around our apartment and stayed the night a few times a week, but we never talked about it. If I brought it up, he would get skittish. If he brought it up, I would pretend I was doing something else. Usually, we never got that far. There was static silence on that end.

I couldn't deny I felt something for him, but I was scared. Maybe I was too proud. Either way, whenever I wanted to say something, I would convince myself it wasn't the right time or that he didn't feel the same way about me. My mind liked to play tricks.

On the plane, I was sandwiched between him and another man. Micky got the window seat before I could. I hated being in the middle. Planes made me sick. Being so close to Micky didn't help. He made me dizzy. He smelled so heavily of peppermint and fabric softener, all the comforting things, that it was intoxicating. He wasn't doused in it, but I definitely knew my reaction to it was for a certain reason that I liked to ignore.

Cecily and Peter were sitting in the seats in front of us, Peter beating Cecily to the window seat. She smacked the back of his head and hissed she was paying for his ticket and if he didn't give her the window seat, she would stick her aunt Selene on him. He made a face and switched to the middle quickly.

Behind us were Annie and Mike, talking quietly amongst themselves. Mike was showing Annie the lyrics to his new song, a little country ditty that they both knew would never make it on to a Monkees record, but still silently hoped that maybe, just maybe, Kirshner would change his mind. Annie was offering suggestions and Mike was shutting down all of them.

"No!" he said, flabbergasted. "Annie, that is an absolutely terrible idea."

"You're not the only genius around here!" she snapped. "I graduated valedictorian."

"I bet you did, Beauty Queen," he grumbled.

"What was that?" she asked. "Say that again. Say it loud and clear, Michael. I won't ask again."

"What's your problem?"

"Don't treat me like I'm subservient!" she exclaimed. Several passengers looked their way. Annie's cheeks reddened, before she turned back to Mike with a ferocious look in her eyes. "If you treat me like that again, I'm gone."