And When Rain Fell: Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen
Falling to the Ground

I wasn’t sure what had changed within me but I felt like a whole new person the next morning. The day before sped by quickly, not letting me cherish the rest of it with the family, only letting my memory slip back to the passion Gerard and I both shared moments, then hours ago. I tried to focus, I really did, but my mind was off in other places. It loved Tess, Gerard’s parents, Ray, and Mikey but it wanted to be somewhere else entirely. It wanted to be with Gerard. Unfortunately I could only sit with him; on the same couch was as far as we dared to go with Henry sitting inches away from us. It felt like I was on that date where the girl brings the boy home to meet the parents. I knew I wasn’t going to be tagged with questions, receive mean looks, or be given the marriage talk but I could feel the uneasiness settling in the room the longer all of us spoke in a circular motion starting with Mikey, then Tess, me, Gerard, Ray, Gerard’s parents, then back to Tess. Everything seemed robotic in a way that if the chain of conversation was broken the world would end. A few times Mrs. Way asked if I wanted a drink, I politely declined but asked her in return if I could get her anything. I stayed like this for some time until each other of us decided to go to bed. One after the other we dropped like flies, scattering in different directions up to bedrooms behind locked doors. Eventually it was only Gerard, Henry, and I sitting alone in the family room. Carol had gone to bed a couple hours before. I could only pray Gerard didn’t leave me stranded with his father. I could barley handle being in the same room with him while Gerard was with me. The silence was unsettling; everything about it all was unsettling.
“So how’re you likin’ it up here, boy?” It took me a minute to realize he was talking to me. “Oh – uh – well…”
“Spit it out!” I couldn’t tell the seriousness of his demand. Was I bothering him with my stuttering? It was a bad habit of mine, one that wasn’t going away in time but only getting worse. I pulled at the loose strings hanging off the cuffs linked to the sleeves of my jacket. I didn’t like Henry staring at me like he was. It made me feel violated. “I like it, a lot. Very different from the city.” He grunted and sat back more into his chair. The seat creaked a bit but it didn’t seem to bother him. “Is this where you live all the time?” I questioned, feeling somewhat more comfortable.
I glanced at Gerard out of the corner of my eye hoping he would join in the conversation soon. He looked different.
When I was little, I had seen my mother’s face exactly like his. It was when my father had first yelled at her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks. I still can’t believe I remember the day, but I do and I don’t think it will ever fully go away. I remember standing there helplessly at the stop of the cold creaky stairs listening to the argument drag on and on. With every passing minute I progressed a step nearing closer to the fight. Surprisingly I wasn’t scared – not to my knowledge. One would say curiosity killed the cat but in my case it only taught me a lesson to control myself and my actions. It was the first and only time I had see that look on my mother’s face, and it was the first time I had witnessed my father hitting her. I didn’t quite know what to make of it. She didn’t look like she was in pain until he slammed the front door shut and was out of sight. My tiny ears heard the car driving away into the distance. That old steaming motor running hot along the town roads out of ear shot. I wasn’t afraid, and I stilled love my dad but my mother had changed then.
As my feet touched the bottom of the stair case her eyes shifted from the kitchen table she had been staring at; with a vase filled with morning lilies and baby’s breath, to me. They were ghosted over with a gray tint. I was speechless as was she. Her body didn’t flinch, the two of us just stood there wondering what had happened. Her hands looked to be shaking; the spot in which my father had hit her began to turn a reddish pink color in a matter of seconds. I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew I was too small to go after him, to go talk to him, and I was too naïve to talk my mother through any of it.
Her yellow cardigan didn’t look as bright and vibrant anymore, the blouse she wore underneath lost its glow along with it. She used to be a house wife in my eyes, a stay at home mom until all of this happened. All this shit that just so happened to ruin our lives. I never had the chance to think of my father as being the reason for our suffering before. I always told myself it was just one time; he lost his temper only once, it wouldn’t happen again. Then he was gone for good, out of my mother and my life forever – not because of choice but because of life. He was taken from us when e least expected it. Not even at his funeral did I see that same expressing on my mother’s face when he had hit her only months prior. It was like a silent scream for help and comfort, but like I said – I was too small to understand it then but now that I saw it on Gerard’s pale face, I knew I had to do something. It was a silent scream for help. The eyes fixated on one specific thing not daring to shift to anything else, the corners of the mouth uneven and lowered near the chin, the muscle in the cheeks stern and noticeable. It was all happening, all over again; I could see that one night flash before my eyes. I knew I had to do something, but what? What was going to fix this? I was unable to change the outcome before; maybe I could change it now. I understood now and Gerard was helping me get through it. He was teaching me how to be strong and confident when he wasn’t even meaning.
“Henry?” The man stopped talking; I hadn’t noticed he was in the middle of a sentence. His neck shifted backward, he looked at me with a skeptical look. “Yeah?”
“What was Gerard like as a kid?” I put my hand on Gerard’s upper leg, hoping I was moving in the right direction. There was a shift in the air, something had changed. “Uh, as a kiddy?” I nodded, ignoring the arrogance in his voice. “I’ve always wanted to know. How did he and Mikey behave?” I laughed, thinking of the two of them as five year olds playing outside and running around. Henry gave in eventually after contemplating what he wanted to say next. “They were good little kids, always nice, good manors.” His tone had changed dramatically, it has softened dramatically, the wrinkles in his forehead disappeared as he spoke about their childhood to me. He was the calmest I had ever seen him. “They grew up in a bad part of town, nowhere for a kid like them, they deserved better.” I could tell he was choking up a bit. I looked into his eyes for a moment and caught some redness appearing. My intention wasn’t to hit a soft spot, I only wanted to understand the past of the man I loved. I only knew what he was then and now, not his childhood, though – the most important part of our lives – I needed to understand that before I could understand Gerard as a whole. “They deserved better.” He repeated earnestly. He cracked his knuckles in a nervous manner. His bushy eyebrows where stuck in a ‘V’ shape. For the few seconds of silence I thought about what he was getting into. Henry was not a very open man and I didn’t blame him for that. I wasn’t too open myself. The only difference was, I was still young planning to make stories worth telling while he was old and already had stories to share.
The collar on his button up shirt was messed up from nervous shifting. It was a nice cream color with darker brown lines making boxes up and down his back and chest. His glasses were resting on the top button of the shirt, hanging down a bit. The look didn’t fit his personality. “Things didn’t quite get better as they grew up, though. Not like I wish they had.” Henry suddenly got up from his seat and walked into the kitchen without saying anything else. His impression was still imprinted to the cushions of the chair. “Frank, there’s something I need to tell you.” Gerard said, taking my hand into his gently. I looked at him with a cross face. “What is it?” My heart began to beat out of my chest. “I want to take you somewhere, and then I’ll tell you.” He got up from next to me, pulled down his shirt and reached out his hand. I didn’t reach back at first, I was thinking too much, too much about why and what this was all about. Despite my long delay Gerard remained standing in front of me with his hand outstretched. He would wait for me until I was ready. He always had.
I walked with him into the kitchen where everyone else was. “Hey, Frank.” Tess handed me a cup of coffee, I shook my head and pushed it away. She and Gerard exchanged looks, looks that I didn’t know the meaning of and that bothered me. “We’re going for a walk, everyone. We’ll be back!” Ray, Tess, and Mikey all stood and watched him and I get our coats and walked out of the front door. I could only imagine what was going through their minds. Were they being judgmental? Maybe they were guessing what we were going to do, where we were going to go. Or maybe they were scoffing at me for being such an ass, maybe none of them liked me and it was all an act until I officially left and they would talk shit about me. Maybe that was what was happening here, was Gerard in on it? I gripped his hand tighter to see if he squeezed back, he did.

…

There was one time when Rosie and my mother walked into the hospital room. They were both so quiet. I heard their steps enter the door way and come into my room. I was half asleep, pretending I was completely. Both of them made their way to the side of my bed, first my mom who tucked me in with another blanket, whispering words into my ear that I couldn’t make out. Next was Rosie, she huddled next to me closer than she had ever gotten before. I heard a pair of footsteps exit the room. I could no longer smell the scent of my mother’s fruity smelling perfume which reminded me of cool summer days. It was only Rosie and I together in that hospital room. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing steady. Her blonde hair ticked my face as she buried herself into my arm and ribs. “I missed you, Frank.” She was with chopping words. You’ll get better, I promise. You’ll remember, I promise. Never forget me, okay? I’ll always be here for you whether you still know who I am or not.” Her words touched my heart and made it beat faster. I wanted to open my eyes and hug her until she didn’t know what else to say but for some reason I stayed silent, wanting her to go on, to continue. “No matter what happens everything will be okay.” She laughed, “I talk to your friend Gerard. He’s very nice. Everyone else thinks he is a mistake but I don’t think so. You need someone and that someone is him, Frank, never doubt that. He loves you and cares about you. I can see it in his eyes, Frankie.” And after that she wept into the sheets for a long time. I was close to crying myself a few times but held the tears back. Ever since then I knew I had to be happier. I had something that I only thought was possible in my dreams. I had someone who loved me for who I was no matter my flaws and was willing to teach me everything so that I would survive the world, so that I could fight against my demons.

…

“Where are we going?” I asked, looking around the dense woods we were in. It was only my fourth time asking him and each time the answer was the same as the last, “You’ll see.” We walked for a long time, following a trail that was barley a trail anymore. It curved around trees and bushes with weird looking plants sprouting out between them, oddly enough the place seemed to have a charm to it. Like, I was a thick wood, dense and scary, but actually once you got used to it and familiar was like a little retreat. I went with Gerard willingly down the path which was overgrown. It reminded me of the weeds walking up to his apartment building. Those damn weeds that were sticking out in between the cracks of the cement sidewalk. Everything seemed familiar, like I was walking up to the apartment complex, looking at the odd half dead weeds sprouting funny look flowers and wrapping themselves around my angle every time I pass. I was no longer wondering where we were going, only how I came to this rare and strange conclusion. Was this Gerard’s idea? Or had I made that up on my own? Had I turned philosophical like Gerard for once?
My mind went off to other places, thinking about every which thin until I was pulled by Gerard to stop walking. He had already been standing still before he signaled me to stop. “Where are we?” My mind came to, again. The area looked different from everywhere else. Right in front of us there was a section of wood cleared out, a perfect circle of trees surrounding the open area. I looked back at Gerard who had stopped a few feet behind me. Our eyes met. He titled his head forward, keeping the eye contact. He was telling me to go forward, to go see what he had brought me to.
I faced forward again, taking little steps out in front of me. I finally reached the edge of the perfect cut out circle, where, evidently the sun was shinning on. I passed through the bushes, stepping into the open space. There was a stone bench off to the left on the boarded of the circle; it was gray and cute, surrounded by little statues of doves, butterflies, and other birds. I walked over to it, feeling the top of the seat with my bare hand. It was icy and cold, yet it looked warm and comforting. The sides of the bench weren’t smooth but uneven with the rock it was built out of. I crouched down onto my knees to examine the statures. They were about as big as half my arm, standing up straight and tall next to the seat, covered in a light frost. They looked to once have colored painted on them which had faded away with age, from the sun, and the weather. I could picture the butterflies’ wings being bright vibrant colors as if the stone creatures were actually alive and flying around in the spring time.
I stood back up, walking backwards from where I came from keeping my gaze on the stone figured nestled to the ground. I turned around and gasped; looking in front of me then to Gerard and back again. My body was stiff with fear and regret. I tried to move my legs but they wouldn’t listen, they really just wouldn’t listen.
I could see my breath in front of my nose. The fog drifted away from me slowly evaporating into the air. I whispered, “Oh my god.” And finally I was able to move forward, closer and closer to what was lying in front of me. Two tomb stones, the same gray color as the bench were stuck into the ground, side by side with dead flowers on either side. I walked closer to them, feeling my body grow more and more numb by the inch. I couldn’t speak; I bent down in the small space between the two stones. Both has neat letters engraved into the stone, the left one read

Michael Robert Way
Born September15th, 1970
Died April 7th, 2001
~~~
A loving father and husband

I could feel the tears streaming down my face as I gripped the edge of the stone. “No, no, no, no, no.” I whispered harshly to myself. I then looked to the right tomb stone feeling my heart wrench with pain and agony.

Donna Rosanne Way
Born July 3rd, 1972
Died April 7th, 2001
~~~
A loving mother and wife

I ran my hand down the grave stone until my fingers touched the ground. The earth was hard and cold. I had no words to say, I couldn’t describe what I was feeling. Henry and Carol weren’t Mikey and Gerard’s real parents. The conversation echoed in my brain, Henry trying to cough up the right words to explain all that’s happened. I pulled apart some grass from above where the caskets where buried underneath. “Gerard.” I could barely speak, I knew he didn’t hear me but I kept saying his name over and over again. I let my body got limp to the ground. My eyes burned with tears of regret. Why hadn’t Gerard told me any of this before? Why hadn’t he said anything?
I felt him walk up behind me. His light steps crushing the half frozen grass. He knelt down next to me, resting his face to my shoulder. I wrapped my arm around his head hugging him until he pulled away. “Why –,” He shook his head. “Not here.” He mumbled, wiping his eyes dry. “We’ll talk somewhere else.” I nodded. Being the first to stand up I held out my hand to him. He, too, hesitated like I had – but I would wait for him until he was ready because that’s what he would do and did for me. Eventually his fingers touched my palm and I enclosed them and pulled him up off the dirty ground stained with lost memories. I waited for him to start leading the way, but all he did was stand there staring down at the graves of his mother and father. I tugged at his jacket, wanting him to look away. The last thing he needed was to remember whatever happened.
I couldn’t help myself but I ran into him like a scared little kid, digging my face into his chest and breathing in his scent over and over again. It was the kind of hug a girl gives a boy after revealing everything to one another. It was the kind of hug that most are afraid to give, that most don’t know how to give. Instantly he hugged back, there was nothing I wanted more than for him to be alright. I kissed his neck, he was cold, colder than usual.
Eventually he took his eyes away from the sight of his parents and focused on me. He took my hand once again and led me away, but now, I couldn’t stop looking back at the scene. A spot sectioned off from the rest of the world just for these two people who were special to Gerard, as we walked away it had a different light to it. The sun had hidden itself behind the clouds but there was another sort of light which showed something new. Part of me was telling myself it was hope; another part of me was telling myself that I was simply crazy.
I stayed close to Gerard after that until we made it to the place I suspected he wanted to take me. It was a much cozier and innocent scene. A creek ran through and split the woods in half like a fault. Over this creek was a wooden bridge charmingly aged and dark, it had a slight lift to it like a tiny hill over look a river. I never would have expected to find something such as that out here. “Come on,” Still holding my hand he walked faster toward the bridge. There were dozens and dozens of trees surrounding it, all with bright red, orange, and yellow leaves hanging onto the tips of their branches for dear life, many failing and falling to the ground. The trail we had been following suddenly became clearer as we arrived at the foot of the bridge. Gerard gingerly stepped onto the wooden platform guiding me along with him. “Sit with me” He said, smiling weakly. He sat down on the edge, letting his legs dangle off the side of the overpass above the rushing water, I did the same. I kicked my legs up and down I as freezing but in a good way, I couldn’t feel my legs but that was fine, it wasn’t bothering me, and it wasn’t bothering Gerard.
I figured I shouldn’t waste any time. I wanted to know everything, but I didn’t want to make him upset. “Gerard, why didn’t you tell me?” Instantly he sighed, I watched as a smoke of his breath came rolling out of his mouth. “Because I know about your dad and didn’t wan tot bring back memories for either of us.” He was so straight forward, not usually the type of reaction I got out of him. “That doesn’t matter, though.” I said, tears coming back into my eyes. I could barley think. I could barley move. “You were so young, you and Mikey.” Gerard looked at me with his big green olive eyes. “It doesn’t matter –,”
“Yes it does, Gerard. Stop trying to hide everything and be serious all the time! I know you try and be brave and strong but you need to be sad too, you need someone to help you too!” I slammed my fit down onto the boards of the bridge. As usually Gerard remained calm. “They were shot.” I caught my breath in my throat. I would have coughed it up but honestly I had forgotten how to. “Gerard…”
“They had gone out on a date; Mike and I were home alone. I was thirteen and he was nine. It was the first time I had agreed to stay with him the whole night without another adult being there with me. I wanted them not to worry, though. It was their tenth wedding anniversary. I wanted them to have fun, they deserved it. All they ever did for my brother and I were take care of us and make sure we were safe. That’s all they ever cared about… But, we lived in a bad part of the city, or bad town filled with people with a past. I understood that and so did my parents, unfortunately Mikey understood it, too, maybe a little too well. We would hear it on the news all the time, but then that one night – it all became reality. They were shot while walking home. The restaurant was only two blocks away; they were so close to being sage and home.”
“And so your grandparents took you in. Raised you for the rest of your life,”
“And then I moved out. I didn’t respect them as much as I should have.” Gerard sighed and continued. “I didn’t trust them as much as they would have liked. Mikey did, which is why he stayed with them. But me? No, I moved out as soon as I could. I wanted to create what I always wanted to see in my life and my world, not what really happened – and that’s when I turned to art.” His eyes were closed, he looked like he was in pain, like he was trying to fight back something that wanted to come out but he wouldn’t let it. “They didn’t deserve to die.” I turned my head away from him. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t bear seeing him. Gerard didn’t seem like the same person right then. He took a deep breath, “And that’s when I started drinking.” I covered his face with the palms of his hands, and leaned over the side of the bridge a little more. I watched as small tears collected on his cheeks then fall into the stream below us. “Mikey would come to see me sometimes after school.” His voice was jagged and uneven as he let his emotions run free. “He would come in and find me on the floor.” He sniffed his nose, and let out a nervous sigh. I had never seen him cry this hard. “I hit him once.” He said quietly, quivering next to me. I furrowed my brow, praying I had heard him wrong. I touched my hand to the side of his face, “Gerar –…”
“Don’t say it’s okay, Frank! It’s not! I was a fucking wreck! I hit my brother; I abandoned the only family I had felt that was willing to take me in!” I removed my touch from him. I wasn’t afraid of him, he just wasn’t ready. “I couldn’t get a job. I stayed at my apartment painting, drawing, trying to sell anything that I had but people didn’t seem to want them. I had put my soul and mind into those fucking things and everyone just walked by them like they were shit. That’s when I began singing.” He ran his thin fingers through his hair, pressing firmly down on the scalp. “I went into a bar, and asked if I could perform for money. I had no idea if I could sing; I just needed to do something. Amazingly the owner said yes, I did it, and they loved me. I went back home that night, but I didn’t keep singing, instead I kept painting. My mother used to sing to me all the time.” He was quiet, now, trying to regain the calmness he once possessed. “I never sang again, until I met Ray. Mikey introduced me – it was a friend of his from college. They encouraged me to sing, but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t, Frank. They said I could save lives, they said singing was like painting but with your voice. I didn’t believe them.” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure and stay strong for him. “So what did you do?”
“I went to their graves.” He said. I could felt he emotion and anger rising. “I went to their graves. I sat in front of them and I sang to them.” I gasped quietly. My chest tightened and my throat began to hurt.
Gerard lifted his head. His eyes were puffy and his face wet, but he was smiling. I looked up to see what he was observing. I looked back and forth between the sky and him. “The leaves.” He said with a laugh. I cocked my head, “What about them?”
“The falling leaves remind me of rain.” I thought about this for as long as I could until I asked the question: “So, does rain remind you of falling leaves?” Gerard scoffed and answered “No, of course not.” like it was the most obvious answer in the world. “Van Gogh created a painting called Bridge in the Rain. When I was upset I would come to this bridge and pretend the world around me was the painting and then I was the one standing on the bridge in the rain. It gave me inspiration; it gave me a minute to be alone.
He changed courses and went onto explain the theory behind the rain and leaves which was what I had been waiting for.
“Leaves remind me of rain because the leaves fall to the ground in a swift motion, like rain. But rain does not remind me of leaves because rain cannot float to the ground gently and beautifully like leaves do. The two things have completely different personas, almost like people meeting for the first time, completely opposites to each other. Do you know what I mean, Frank?” I nodded, and actually meant it this time. It wasn’t a half nod to say I only understood part of it, and it wasn’t a confused look of distress, I actually understood it.
I leaned over the edge of the bridge more, watching the water rush by and behind us. “I know exactly what you mean.”

*For those of you who do not know what 'Bridge in the Rain' looks like it is attached to this post! Long live the crazy Vincent Van Gogh!!!*