Chapter Fifty-Two Transition

Needless to say, I didn’t get much, if any, sleep that night. Thoughts of Gerard, his blood on my father’s shirt and the possible outcomes scattered their way through my head, preventing sleep from finally overcoming my body. I knew I was tired; I could feel it in my bones and the sting on my eyes. My entire body weight weighted, and it hurt sitting up for too long. When I lied down to ease some of the pain though, sleep didn’t come. I closed my eyes and waited, but nothing happened. Images only flashed throughout my head, of Gerard’s possible dead body, beaten and bloodied. The thoughts made me sick and I did all I could to will them away, but they were too strong. My dad could not have done that much damage, I told myself over and over again. Sure, he was a mean guy. He had hit me and threatened to hurt Gerard, but he wouldn’t hurt him that bad. Would he? He said he hadn’t, but when that much adrenaline is involved, it was hard to keep facts straight. He may have apologized that night, saying sorry for all of the horrible things he used to say, but that revelation came after he had beaten up Gerard. After he realized Gerard would not throw a punch back. And without any defensive strategies, who know how much damage had been done before hand.

I could feel my worry welling up within my throat making it hard to swallow. I got up from my bed numerous times in the middle of the night to either get a drink of water or to splash some of it on my face in a vain attempt to cleanse myself of my thoughts. Gerard was okay. He had to be. My father was old; he couldn’t have done that much damage. But Gerard was old too. They were both the same age, only separated by two months in their birthdates. Gerard was probably even more fragile than my father and would take his punches extra hard. God, my mind was getting worse and worse. My insomnia, despite its paranoid thoughts, was a far greater relief than the small fragment of sleep I did manage to obtain.

My dreams had been filled with the violent and horrible images I had been thinking about beforehand, only I couldn’t just blink my eyes to make them go away. I was stuck inside my own head when I dreamt, and it was a horrible feeling. It reminded me of a time before Gerard, before our relationship and art, where I had been stuck in a redundant life that I had no clue about. I had wanted to stay in one place, to not change a damn thing about my existence because I didn’t know what I could change it too, and I was too much of a chicken shit to find out. I laughed for no real reason, staring outside my window at the blackest night. I had changed so much, from such a simple action.

Who would have thought throwing paint out a window could change a stubborn teenager? I had taken off my shirt from the show, tossing it on my desk chair so I could look at it. There was a silver slice of light that filtered in from the stars and moon, making my shirt have another aura and radiance about it. It seemed fitting. I didn’t want to put the item back on my door just yet; I needed it close to me, just like the dove jacket. I clung to the dove jacket ten times more, knowing it still had the scent of Gerard inside. I buried my face in the sleeves and arms while I tried to sleep, the transition I had gone through in such a short period of time coming through my mind again and again.

Before I had been blind and stuck, and now I hated losing my senses because I couldn’t grasp things. I couldn’t make art if I couldn’t see. I couldn’t appreciate music if I couldn’t hear. I hated feeling stuck, unable to move. It was like my feet were planted in tar, and I had to watch everyone else drown. I was watching Gerard drown in my dream, my father holding his head underwater. It made me sick, and when I finally did wake up, I had a horrible taste in my mouth. After dry heaving for a bit, I looked at my bedside clock, and when the numbers read off that it was almost six in the morning, I gave up sleep. I descended downstairs and decided to wait for everyone else to wake. If they weren’t up by eight, I would get them up. I needed to see Gerard as soon as possible.

My feet on the cold tile floor jarred my senses back into me. As I looked around the kitchen, it seemed so much larger than it usually was. Perhaps because it had taken on the landscape of a war zone, battle fought and completed, within the past few days alone. No matter how many times I ran over the conversation with my father in my mind, it didn’t make it any easier to believe. My dad had been so different then, actually breaking in front of me. Even my mother, who had watched it all from the sidelines had appeared surprised. I didn’t know how long they had been married, but I didn’t think she had even seen him so broken and weathered away. It was a huge shock to all of us, my father included. I didn’t even think he was used to actually having tangible feelings to put a name on, and subsequently expressing them. He had been trying to fight it, but was giving up on that battle gradually. As he came downstairs, a mere twenty minutes after I had, I could still see the rawness all around him. There were bags under his eyes, his tough skin looking as if sandpaper had been taken to it. His hair was pulled back to the side again, in some kind of order, but I could see frays at the back every so often. I also noticed how much he had appeared to age in the past few hours where we were both supposed to be getting sleep. The wrinkles around his eyes were more pronounced than ever, and his forehead seemed larger, exposing his receding hairline. I saw grays poking up that had never been there before, and his back hunched over more so than usual.

My father was old. He always had been, but like with Gerard, I had never bothered to notice it. Once I did, instead of scaring me, it made me feel better, in a weird twisted way. I was able to see my father for what he was; a human being. He wasn’t this hard shell that I constantly bounced rubber bullets off of. He was a human and he had broken last night. As I caught my reflection in the smooth glass pane of the microwave I concluded that I looked older as well. Maybe it was the fighting that had aged us significantly, or maybe it was something to do with the man we had both tried to fight at first, just to let him get under our skin. Gerard was odd that way, changing people and making them become human again.

“You ready to go, dad?” I asked the second after he had poured milk into his morning cup of coffee. He took a long sip and nodded, sighing heavily. It wasn’t one of his trademark annoyed and angered breathes. It was a good heartily sigh, like realizing he could breathe again. I realized I had called him dad, and for once, the words didn’t seem too harsh and hard to articulate off my lips. I had no urge to call him Anthony anymore.

The car ride was fairly silent, both of us clinging to after thoughts of the events that had taken place. With each step forward to the hospital I could feel my anxiety lessen. I was almost completely sure that everything was okay. If not, someone would have called me. I was sure of it. Gerard had my number, and if worse had come to worse, Vivian could look me up. She knew my last name now because of the art show. It wouldn’t be that hard to just call.

“Do you think that he’ll press charges?” my dad asked suddenly, disrupting the silence of the car and my thoughts. I was grateful for the break, but the question threw me for a loop. I had been looking out the car window, watching the streets pass by, including the bus stop where I had met Elisabeth, fly by when I was forced to think about something else.

“Um, I don’t know,” I stated honestly.

I really did have no clue if he would or not. If I was him, I probably would have – someone attacked him after all – but Gerard was far from normal, as he expressed numerous times. He had not fought back whatsoever, so perhaps that was to keep his name clear while he filed charges. I really didn’t have a clue.

I looked at my dad and shrugged my shoulders. He nodded, biting on his thumbnail of the arm he had rested against the window. He drove on with the other hand hung loosely at the bottom of the wheel, his eyes darting around wildly like the thoughts inside his head.

“Do you want me to turn myself in if he doesn’t?” he pressed further, a serious tone in his voice, taking me off guard. I looked back at him, still unsure of my answer. He was asking me if I wanted him to condemn himself if someone else didn’t do it for him. It was a miracle in my mind, even more than him admitting he was wrong in an apology. I stared at him, marveled at him. He was changing with me, and I felt like we had our first father-son moment, no matter how cheesy or fucked up it was.

“If Gerard doesn’t press charges, then I’m sure he’ll have a good reason for it,” I stated, watching my father’s reaction. He was placid and calm, yet he gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as we drove on. “If he lets you go, I let you go.”

My father merely nodded, but I could sense the relief rushing through his system. There was no point in damning someone who had already been to hell and back, I realized. My father used to be Satan in my mind. He knew how hot Hell was.

Despite my hatred of hospitals, and the uncomfortable memories I had suffered from the last time I was there, I walked through the sliding doors with minimal tension. I was too focused on anything but Gerard, I didn’t even notice how far my dad lagged behind. I just saw the white walls, plastered with plaques and bad art (I never thought there was such a thing, but these paintings gave changed my mind, but not in the good way) and focused on my mission.

“Where is Gerard Way’s room?” I asked the nurse at the front counter, hoping I was in the right ward. I looked around and didn’t see any children in wheelchairs, so at least I hadn’t accidentally gone to pediatrics. The nurse was wearing pink scrubs in an off-salmon color that made her look like the fish she wore. She was tall and held her head up high, but flushed out in the middle, making her arms appear more like fins. Her small amount of body fat was formed into rolls at her side, flowing down her uniform nicely and giving her a scale-like appearance. Her eyes were deep-set and cheery, her facial structures bony despite her full middle. She pushed down her glasses and pursed her lips, giving her an even more fish-like appearance as she gave me the once over. She saw my dad finally come up behind me, his leather jacket undone and his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He stood around awkwardly, not really wanting to know what was going to happen next. We would be ushered into Gerard’s room at any moment, and my dad was going to be meeting his worse enemy. My dad was putting himself at such a fucking risk, I realized, and I honestly could not have admired him more. He was stubborn and not liking the situation one little bit, but he was there. He had offered to drive me to the hospital and he was standing by my side. He was shifting his weight, looking around and pretending he wasn’t there, but I even admired that. He was taking risks, fuck, he was taking so many of them he may as well have been an artist.

“Gerard Way?” the nurse questioned, her nose dipping inside the folders she had on her desk. I nodded as she looked, scrunching her face up and pushing her glasses near to the end of her nose. She seemed to recognize the name, but found a hard time placing it. I looked around the ward, noticing the border painted in an off baby-blue. At least I had the right place.

“Hmmm,” she jarred me back to her temped search. “He seems to have checked out.”

“What?”

“Yes,” she uttered again, stopping her search and then locating the item she wanted to, a smile spreading on her face. She chuckled a bit, looking up at me as she told her little story. “Yes, he’s been gone awhile, actually. Late night or early morning, he was discharged. Apparently he wanted to leave before then, but the nurses made him stay until the doctor looked him over. Even then, it seemed like he couldn’t leave fast enough.” She chuckled again, placing the paper down. “He had an interesting personality.”

I smiled, though it hurt with the constant thudding in my chest. “Tell me about it,” I agreed, nodding my head again. There was no doubt in my mind that we were talking about the same person.

Gerard and his fucking erratic sleeping habits, I thought to myself. It was one of his quirks I loved so much at that very moment, and was pretty much my only coherent thought. Gerard was not in the hospital anymore; he was checked out. He was fucking alive. The thought allowed me to breathe out, collecting my thoughts in a somewhat organized way.

“How badly was he injured?” I asked through, squinted eyes and clenched teeth, preparing for the worse.

“Not too bad if they let him go home already,” the nurse stated obviously, her tone only the slightest bit condescending. She sighed, looking at me through her thick black framed lens. “Why don’t you go and see him for yourself, sweetie. I only saw him pass through a few hours ago. From what I did see of him, however,” she chuckled, remembering something distinct, “he was very happy. Kept chatting up one of the nurses. Now go!”

She waved her hands at me playfully, making her look even more like a fish out of water as she ushered me away. I turned around and began to walk as fast as my too-short legs could carry me to the elevator I had come up in. It hadn’t even occurred to me at that moment that I could actually see Gerard by myself and I didn’t need the nurse’s permission. I didn’t need anyone’s permission. I could just go to his place. I became aware of the weight around my shoulders from my bag that I had snatched from the backseat before I had gone inside. I knew my keys to Gerard’s apartment were still buried inside some where. I felt my heart still pounding fast as I bounced on the balls of my feet, waiting for the fucking elevator to ding. When it did, I stepped inside fast and turned around, only to be faced by my father. My heart suddenly sank, realizing what this meant. I may not have needed permission from the nurses to see Gerard, but I needed something from him.

The elevator was empty other than our two bodies, but we seemed to occupy the entire space with the amount of awkward tension we held between us. My dad was looking around, scanning the corner from bottom to top before his eyes landed on me again. I stayed as still as I could, unsure what to do. My dad had wanted to meet Gerard, but that was not happening at his apartment. No way. That was the place where me and Gerard did our art, were together, and had sex. It was where we made and kept our secrets, where no one could penetrate the walls we had erected and felt safe in. It would be weird having my father in that environment. Besides, my photos were still decked out all over the place, and not all of them could be written off as easily as the hand picture had been. Even with my explanation of the hand one, I could still see some doubt cast over my father’s eyes. That same doubt was still present, and manifesting itself into large tension inside the small elevator. My father clucked his tongue and sighed, but I could never tell what he was thinking. I realized I may have acted way too giddy to be going and seeing Gerard, but I could write that off as worry and excitement for his health, couldn’t I?

There were only so many things you could overwrite before they all started to blend together and the real truth was lost.

“He gave you that jacket?” my dad asked, motioning with his head over to the gift Gerard had given me the night before. I had almost forgotten I was wearing it and as I looked down, I realized how ridiculous it looked on top of my short and lanky frame, over a red t-shirt and jeans. I nodded my head slowly to my dad, who sighed again. The elevator dinged and we stepped off into the long corridor I had just run down, but we didn’t move. We both stayed wondering where our next destination would be.

“I want to see Gerard alone,” I stated, pronouncing the words slowly as to not let anything unwanted slip in between them. I looked up from the flecked floor to my father, who had his lips pursed to the side.

“You know,” I added, trying to overwritten the already written. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. And I’ll let you know about the charges…”

“Sure,” he nodded, running his hands through his hair again. He pinched his temples, taking a great pause. The silence made me want to leap out of my shoes and just run down the hallway. Somehow, I contained myself. I began to walk, but walked slowly, sensing his apprehension behind me.

“I just want you to be happy, Frank,” he stated suddenly, my body only a few paces ahead. I turned around slowly, and looked at him, trying to sense out other meaning. I was too far away and honestly I didn’t want to look that hard. I stood with my feet pressed together, fidgeting my hands with the strap on my back.

“I am happy,” I answered honestly.

“I know,” my dad said through another sigh. He stood there for a moment, looking all around the hospital corridors, almost seeing everything for the first time. Maybe he was. I just wasn’t sure what exactly he was seeing. His eyes on me startled me, but he was no longer threatening. His eyes creased with a bittersweet demeanor.

“So, go on then,” he ordered me softly. “Go see him.”

I wasn’t sure what my dad was thinking at that very moment in time. I didn’t want to know, really. His order was more than just that, it was approval and acceptance. He was going to let me go, and let me go willingly into whatever made me happy, though it may bring him pain, if only a little on the inside. The way he looked at me and at the jacket made me think he knew something more. He could never prove it, nothing beyond the one photo he had seen, but I knew he didn’t want to prove it if he could. He had already fought so much on this issue, coming up with nothing other than his father envy. Maybe that was all I was seeing then as well. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. My father was letting me go. He was tired of fighting.

But me, I was just beginning. I was ready to fight all night if I had too, because I really did feel invincible. My father waved his hand limply when I failed to respond before, and that was all I needed to kick start my mission. I turned around, walked through the automatic sliding door, and started to make my way.

***

I ran to Gerard’s house. I could have taken the bus if I wanted to, and maybe it would have been faster, but I couldn’t stand to just sit around and wait for something to pick me up when I knew that my own two legs would suit me just fine. It was only a twenty minute run or so, and I barely felt the searing pain in my legs. I was too excited and anxious and worried. It felt like everything was coming to a close, an end and it was going to be a good one. All the fighting – all of the passion and art Gerard had taught me too appreciate and adore had been paying off. I felt unshakable, and as the wind flapped through Gerard’s jacket on my back, I even felt like I was flying, if only for a small fraction of time.

I barreled up Gerard’s staircase in his old building, hearing the creaks and sighs as I went, barely distinguishing them from my own panting breath. By the time I flung the key in the door and twisted the knob, I felt like my lungs, legs, and brain was on fire from exertion. As soon as I laid eyes on Gerard, everything was back to normal.

He was in the center of the apartment where most of his arm supplies were. He was bent down when I entered, the clothing from last night still clinging to his skin. He was digging through something, but as soon as he heard his door open he turned around and spotted me. A huge smile etched its way across his face and he spread his arms out for an invitation that I didn’t need. I was already on my way to attacking him.

As I drew closer, I could see small nicks and cuts on his face from what my father had done. His sleeves were half drawn up his forearm and I took note of their small markings too, but nothing was too serious yet. I was afraid of hurting him with my hug, but since he had invited me in, I really didn’t give a damn.

Our bodies collided together in a crash, and it was so fucking beautiful. It was one of those car crashes on a dark rainy night, the headlights cascading off broken glass and rain puddles, a kaleidoscopic effect achieved when the ambulances came by. It made a show for everyone to see, despite the hurt in the action. I could hear Gerard shudder a large oomph breath out as I clobbered him, my arms wrapping around his thick sides and burying my face into his chest. He smelled like polyester and disinfectant, and though it made my nostrils twitch, I breathed it in because it was him. I felt him hug me back, his strong arms looping around my torso and connecting at the small of my back.

“Frank,” was all he said, his hands going up to my hairline and pressing me into his shoulder more as he placed a kiss on the crown of my head. He felt so warm right then it was remarkable, and I wanted to crawl inside the shirt he was wearing.

“God,” I uttered, breathing in the fabric so deeply I could feel the black threads inside my lungs. “I thought you were dead.”

The words rolled off my tongue with surprising strength, and though I felt weak after, Gerard still pressed me close, closer – if that was even possible. There was so much fear welling up inside our bodies, merging together seemed like the only way it was bearable.

“Oh, Frank,” he gushed, a sadness in his voice I had not heard in a long time. “I have way too much to live for.”

He placed another kiss on the top of my head, the small gesture leaving me motionless in his arms. I hadn’t realized I had been so afraid of losing him until that very point in time. The thought of his death scared me to no end, but even after the nurse had cleared his fate with me, I still didn’t know what to think. She could have gotten the names wrong, or Gerard could have left too soon, collapsing on the way to his apartment. He was old; anything could have happened. But it didn’t, and I held him in my hands, just realizing how much I needed him.

Apparently, he needed me just as much. My heart skipped a beat with another kiss he placed on my forehead, rubbing his hand gingerly up and down my back and pressing me closer. I clung to him like a lost child, gradually making my way up to his face, pressing small kiss after small kiss against his lips, pecking him like a small bird. I wanted to kiss every inch of him then, press my lips against him with each breath and totally consume him.

This was what love was about, I told myself, my lips going from his chin to his forehead, which I had to reach by getting on the tips of my toes. I was consuming him right then because for the past few hours that was all his memory had been doing to me. In between each burst of kiss came another burst of emotion from my mouth, a declaration of either ‘I love you’ or ‘I missed you’. Gerard stayed relatively silent, letting me do whatever I wanted or needed to do to him. His grip on me loosened slightly, but I only figured it was because of his injuries. I couldn’t see much yet, but I could tell by the way I pressed myself into his upper body and he cringed that he had probably bruised some ribs and flesh. The thoughts of my father and his charges completely vanished from my mind and all I could do was just kiss and kiss Gerard over and over again until I ran out of room or time.

“Frank, Frank, Frank,” Gerard called, finally using his vocal chords. His hands went to the side of my face, halting my constant pecking motion only for a moment. I was still panting hard from my run there, my chest heaving up and down. He looked at me for a second, his eyes clouding over with an emotion I hadn’t seen expressed within his system yet. I didn’t know if it was happiness or sadness, or perhaps a mixture of both. Gerard kept my face in his hands, waiting for me to calm down before he placed a kiss on my mouth, deeper than the ones I had been giving to him, but still chaste. I placed my hands on his face like his, being careful to the small gash he had by his cheeks. Gerard wrapped me into another hug after our embrace, tilting my head over his shoulder and rubbing the back of my neck.

“You’re going to give yourself a heart attack if you keep running around like that,” he stated chuckling to himself. “Or me a heart attack.”

I smiled, detecting another hint of something I didn’t recognize in his voice. I was getting good at noticing the emotions and inflections of when Gerard talked and I had come to his place so much to realize when things were off kilter. Originally, I had thought it was my brain moving a mile a minute and my dramatic entrance. Now that I had caught my breath, I realized that something other that Gerard’s possible broken ribs was wrong. Something was off about everything.

I scanned the apartment quickly, trying to decipher what was out of place. The dove was still around, perched in the corner by her cage. I looked around and saw all of the art still on the wall, nothing smashed or broken. The mural was still in tact and so was my handprint on his dark door. I couldn’t figure it out, until Gerard pulled away from the hug slightly, his hands still on my arms, and I noticed something behind him.

When I first entered the apartment I thought he had been painting or gathering his art supplies together, but this was not the case. He was gathering, but it wasn’t what I had expected. It was hard to tell with Gerard standing in front of the objects, but it looked like there was a suitcase. Two suitcases, actually, one only half-filled with clothing, and the other locked up tight. In all my time at Gerard’s apartment, I had never seen these two objects, but it was clear that they were not new. The corners were warn down on the leather one that was open. The closed one was covered in stickers, some being bumper and other variety. I looked closer and recognized the logo from his art school in the corner of the closed one.

“Yes,” Gerard’s voice finally broke into my thoughts. I brought my eyes back to his own, my brows furrowed and deeply creased across my forehead. I had been staring at the bags for the longest time, but not understanding anything at all.

“Yes, what?” I asked, my voice coming out high and shaky. Gerard’s countenance went from an unsure serious state to a twisted frown in a matter of moments.

“Oh, Frank,” he said with a sigh, placing his hand at the back of my neck. There was a touch of patronizing quality to his voice, and as he brought our foreheads together, the act was too intimate for his explanation. “I’m leaving.”

“What?” I asked again, pulling away with surprising force. I looked at him, and then the suitcases once more, understanding but wishing I was still dumb. “W-where are you going?”

Gerard rolled his lips together, sighing as he pulled out a wadded up plane ticket from his pocket. The thing was huge – too big to be stuffed into a pocket, but he had had no other place to put it. I snatched it from his hand, my fingers shaking and slipping as I touched the stiff blue paper.

“Paris,” Gerard informed me as my eyes focused on the same word. He said the destination with such a carefree manner, almost as if he didn’t believe he was finally going to the place he had talked about until he was out of breath. I couldn’t believe it either, and I let the ticket fall from my hands onto the hardwood floor. Gerard made no attempt to grab it, taking my shaking hands in his. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t fucking think.

“Isn’t it great, Frank?” he asked me, gripping my hands and trying to stir some kind of reaction in me. My heart dropped even further in my chest, stomach acid splashing up and hitting me once again. I looked at him with wide eyes, not understanding his question at all.

How could this be good? How? He was fucking leaving me.

“I’m finally going to accomplish my dream,” he explained further, his eyes wide. His voice broke, but I didn’t know if it was in pure elation or pure sadness as he watched me crumble before him.

“When are you leaving?” I asked, surprised I could form words. I was looking at him, my eyes vacant and my mouth open to catch flies. But I didn’t want flies; I wanted him.

“Tomorrow morning,” he breathed out, biting his lips slightly as he saw my reaction. Despite his jubilation to his own dreams, he could see my own folding right in that moment. I crushed my eyes closed, feeling something tear inside of me, and hearing it echo in my ears.

“You’re coming back, right?” I pestered, needing to know the single most important information. He could be leaving, that was fine, I supposed. We had been through so much shit in the past few days, maybe a break from Jersey would be good. Maybe he was just scared by my father and thought he had to hide out for awhile. For only three weeks, not even, then I would be eighteen. He would come back after and we could be a couple again. We could go out in public and no one could arrest him because I was an adult. I could make my own choices and fuck, I chose him. I wanted him. And he wanted me too. He had told me so, he had promised me. He was going to come back after he had lived his dream or a little while. He had to. He just … did. There was no other explanation I was willing to take for it.

But as I gazed at him, the answer I wanted set out in my mind, he only shook his head, trying to pull me into a hug that I was frozen for.

“It’s a one-way ticket, Frank,” he explained, not bothering to pick up our dreams from the floor and show me. “I’m not coming back.”

Дата добавления: 2015-11-14