*It's short but whatever.*
Chapter Twenty
Echo of my Screams
I didn’t grow up with anyone to love, and when I grew old reaching well into my twenties I realized that may never change. I kept to myself mostly, trusting only on Malcolm and Rosie to guide me through. My mother had turned on me making it so that my home life was a living hell and I was it’s only victim. I tried to expand beyond the four walls of my room but the world outside was nothing but trouble and I knew that, but nonetheless I ventured which I shouldn’t have done. I got into things I shouldn’t have gotten into. I believed there was no other way out of the mess my life had become. Malcolm was troubled enough, not to mention my hormones kept telling me that I liked him (which I didn’t) and I actually kind of did. Rosie couldn’t understand any of it. She was such a sweet and innocent part of my life that I couldn’t stand seeing ruined, so I kept it all secret from her. I was a washed up teenager looking for a simple place in the world, not a space down in the basement where I could remember all the good times my parents could have had down there. I wanted to be something like everyone else did, but all that dream got me was a job at the bar, a lost friend trying to find somewhere to live, a mother too far away in her own mind to know when he kid is gone or not, and another friend willing to take a bullet for you and you couldn’t even see that. Every day I waited for that one moment they had told me about in school, that moment of greatness where you just know this is it. I stood behind that fucking bar counter for two and a half years waiting like they told me to, cleaning table after table, seeing bar fly after fucking bar fly none of which treated me like a human but more like a slave every time they staggered up to the counter asking for another round for them and their “buddies.” Bitterness along with resentment still nestled inside of me like a monster ready to kill. Even thinking back to it now, I can’t remember how I dealt with it all. I knew I didn’t belong where I was, nor did I deserve anything I was getting. I wanted to be something, not a nobody that only one person cared about. Day after day I couldn’t seem to pick up my eyes from my feet, ashamed to look any person who walked in, feeling as though they were casting their glares at me just for the hell of it. That one day, though, I looked up at the right time, at the instance and my life changed forever. His hair, I remember it like it was yesterday. It was as black as the nighttime sky, and his eyes were hidden behind black sunglasses yet his gaze seemed to bleed through the lenses and connect with my face. A blank expression stood before them I was sure. I couldn’t breathe, I had forgotten entirely. His hands rested on the bar counter like a bird perched in it’s cage. I didn’t know what to make of him; he didn’t look like the type to get wasted. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Did he talk? What did he sound like, was his voice like angels or was it scratchy and harsh? My blood thickened from the excitement. Every movement he made was like a needle stabbing me in the chest. I could feel the ice cold chills running up my spine. I had never felt that was before in my life. The taste of what he could have tasted like sat on my tongue and the roof of my mouth, my throat turned dry and my eyes widened. I must have looked like a fool; I must have looked like such a stupid, dumb child craving attention, craving something other than this world I was trapped in.
As I sat in the cabin, heated by a fire, thanksgiving coming around the corner, with a family who was accepting me slowly I realized how much had changed in the past couple of months. I started out as a bar tender serving up drinks that took away people’s dignity and lives. Now, I had someone whom I loved and would do anything for, no job but searching for one along the way, a newly found interest of music, and new friends who I knew (hopefully) had my back. Thinking about those old times before I finally had a chance to turn my life around, I noticed something extremely dreary. What I had known to be my life through those months with Gerard were fake. This had been explained to me numerous times after I had woken from that fucking coma. Everything I had turned my life around from was all a god damn dream that wasn’t even real! It might have been real within Gerard and my minds but that doesn’t mean the memories, the food, the places, or the thoughts were real. As this finally settled in after over a month of being awake again, I became nervous. Had Gerard come to this conclusion before me? And if he had, did he stay for the right reasons and not just because he felt bad for that poor little fool he met in a dream world they miraculously both scared.
I folded my hand across my lap as Gerard’s, mom, whoever it was, brought dishes over to the table. We were having sit-down family dinner for a change instead of table set up in the middle of the living room chewing in silence. The trip wasn’t going how I expected it to, nothing was going as planned, it was almost like another dream but this time not as beautiful and wonderful. It always felt like eyes were on me, at all times someone had to be watching my every move.
“Could you please pass the bread, Frank?” I could actually feel her sweet voice touch my skin as I was brought out of my thoughts and into the real world again. “Frank?” Tess said again, sounding softer this time than the first. I nodded my head, smiling as if nothing was crossing my mind. “Of course.” I shifted in my seat and reached for the basket of break which looked to be homemade. “Thanks, babe.” My hand tightened around the rim of the basket. What had she just called me? My throat heated quickly, and my neck tensed, until I heard Ray’s voice next. “You sounded pretty damn good –,”
“Watch your language, dear!” I smiled shyly at Carol whose brows were furrowed into a ‘V’. Ray cleared his throat out of embarrassment and apologized, then redirected his attention to the rest of the table again. “Frank’s really good at the guitar. Are you sure you’ve never played before, Frank?” I was caught off guard by the question. Hoping it wasn’t for me but then discovering that it was I mixed my words and couldn’t help but turn red as I thought of what to say. “I’ve never played before, no.” I saw Mikey exchange looks with his brother. I didn’t question the glance between them, I simply pretended I didn’t notice but for me that was rather difficult to do.
I looked across the table at where Henry was seated next to his “son” with the blonde streaked hair and interesting eye color that didn’t match his brother’s. He didn’t look too happy but then again when did he really? I couldn’t help but feel like we were the only two at the table. Everyone else was simply gone from us. I thought of something to compare him to, something I could grasp. I was trying to be like Gerard – but ever since I had woken up from my dream world nothing was the same. There weren’t metaphors for everything anymore, nothing made sense anymore, not even for Gerard and as much as he wanted to disagree deep down I knew he realized more than I. Reality was a real bitch and I didn’t like it, I didn’t believe Gerard enjoyed it either but it was what we had to work with. I wanted to be able to look at something, feel a sudden jolt of something I couldn’t understand. I wanted to be able to look at Gerard and see the gears turning in his head, letting me know he was thinking of something grand to say. But that touch, that magical ability to see things for their beautiful form was gone just like the rest of the family from the table. I could now, again, only focus on the negative aspect of everything. I was ready to throw my plate into the air, watch it fall, and shatter on the floor just to have something interesting happen, just to have something surreal come to be in an instant then be gone in a flash leaving me with but a memory of how I felt seconds ago, wondering if I’ll ever feel it again. I wanted to hear Gerard’s discussions again, not a doctors orders, or a bastard godfathers famous last words. If this is what life was going to be, I wasn’t sure how much more of it I could take. Nothing could amount to those dreams I had, but those dreams were my life for three months, those are what I lived off of. How dare the doctors say they’re fake, all in my imagination. Those dreams were my existence for three fucking months while they went and spent their dough on shit for themselves and for their kids while I sat in a hospital bed believing my life was finally turning out okay when only to wake up and discover my life was still a hell hole, not all was what it seemed.
I fought back tears that were a surprise visit. I searched for Gerard’s hand under the table but it was a lost cause, he was talking which meant his hands were too. I didn’t know what else to do but excuse myself. I set my napkin which had been on my lap onto my still empty plate. “Excuse me,” I muttered, pushing my chair out. It made a noise against the hardwood floor that made me cringe. I glanced up, my eyes peering between my slightly overgrown bangs. I could see Henry picking at his potatoes. I didn’t feel the need to look at anyone else’s reaction, just his, only his, but he seemed to be the only one who didn’t react. I walked away from the dinning room quickly hoping Gerard hadn’t decided to get up too and follow me. I had left normally yet suddenly, and was walking briskly yet the speed in which I was moving could be taken as a normal pace. I shook my head on the way to the bathroom door. What was I doing? What was I thinking? I just needed to be alone for a while. Just to think.
