Telling the Two Apart
014
Death is a connoisseur of demise, a shape shifter of the most morbid kind. No mere defiled figure in black, scythe waving, Death can caress us, fingers warm as the shine of acceptance, or force us to our knees, vomiting up ever shred of hope and dignity in the form of deathbed apologies and confessions. Death may be the face of the one we love. It may be the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, filled with rabid rodents gnashing their teeth.
The light spilled over Frank now as he leaned from the edge of his house’s roof, fingers gripping the brick chimney. The rain was a mist, slicking his hair into snaky tendrils that curled on his skin. Death waited for this one, eagerly grinning with the wait for the fall.
Frank let out a breath. He opened his eyes, pulling back onto the roof.
Death’s smile faded. Perhaps he hadn’t been wanted here today.
“Frank,” called Iero’s friend, and he turned around to see Ray, bowl of macaroni and cheese in hand. “Get the hell down from there. It’s probably slick.”
“Sort of,” Frank confessed, edging his way across the slanted shingle roof towards the bedroom window. “I hope you have some of that for me.” A pause in movement to nod in reference of the noodles.
“Sure, whatever. Come on; I’m getting wet in here.”
“Don’t stand there, then,” cracked Frank, perched on the windowsill.
“You’re dripping.”
“It’s only water.”
“Well, it sure as hell better not be anything else.”
“The piss of God.”
Ray chuckled as Frank hopped down and shut the window with wet, chilled fingers. “You gonna kill yourself or something? You’re psychotic.”
“It’s not psychotic to want to spend some time outside in the rain. There’s a lot to soak in besides the rain out there,” Frank replied, shoes sloshing as he walked to the bathroom. “I’m not going to kill myself. That’s stupid.”
“I guess if you were going to, that remark would have been very insensitive of me.”
“You offend my very being, Ray.”
Frank whipped a towel from the bar in the bathroom, drying his hair and unsuccessfully trying to pat his clothes dry. Ray shook his head, mop of curls agreeing, before turning and trotting down the stairs. “Come eat,” he called.
“Yeah, let me change first.”
Frank’s bedroom wasn’t large. DVDs were scattered on the floor, some hidden under clothes, some open. He worked at a movie rental store several miles from home; of course, free rentals were his only discount. A Bruce Willis DVD cover took the brunt of the rain as Frank dropped his wet jeans into a heap on the floor.
“Didn’t realize that was there,” muttered Frank, annoyed as he kicked his jeans away from the DVD.
The still air in the house was enough to raise goosebumps on Frank’s damp skin as he dug around for dry clothes. He signed as he pulled one of Mikey’s shirts from under his bed.
The kid wouldn’t be seeing that shirt ever again.
He wasn’t a kid. In truth, Frank never perceived him as such—but he was Gerard’s little brother, which gave him that title regardless. And regardless of what title he held, he wasn’t here anymore.
Frank pulled the black shirt over his head, yanking it down over his stomach. Well, since he had to go and take off, Frank would just have to keep the shirt. He picked lint from his shoulders, pulled on a pair of dry jeans, and bounded downstairs.
“Mikey’s shirt,” Ray noted as Frank entered the kitchen, barefoot and looking for hot food.
“You’re attentive,” replied Frank.
“Maybe so. I miss him. Can’t believe he did that, just left.”
“You know,” Frank said thoughtfully, forking cheesy macaroni straight from the pot to his mouth, “He didn’t just leave. Gerard just left, which sort of…prompted Mikey to follow.”
“For whatever reason.”
“I guess the fact that they’re close friends and brothers doesn’t count.”
“Nope.”
Ray wasn’t much for arguing. They left it at that, Ray rummaging through the refrigerator while Frank ate the slowly cooling macaroni and cheese. Ray was a rock to Frank, Gerard and Mikey. He’d been friends with them for years, although they had been out of contact for a short time, while Ray pursued other things with local bands whose careers never quite panned out.
No matter how fickle the music industry turned out to be for Ray, he remained steadfast as a friend, offering sage advice and rarely speaking with anyone about his disapproval of anyone else’s actions.
Until now. But perhaps it was just too bothersome to ignore. Close-knit, their group was now scattering. He and Ray, half of the whole, were abandoned.
“They’re family,” Frank sighed again. “It would be sad for Mikey to just let Gerard move away after being right next to each other their whole lives.”
“Well, then, it’s Gerard’s fault. Just because he was having a rough time doesn’t mean he had to take off to fuckin’ Chicago.” Ray had given up on the fridge and was sitting on the counter. “And I know he didn’t really think Mikey would stay put.”
“I guess,” Frank said feebly.
“Sorry. It gets under my skin.”
“Understood.”
“I was thinking we could go visit, but I guess they haven’t been out long enough for us to do that.”
“Yeah, plus we haven’t been working at our six-figure salary jobs long enough yet to afford the trip.”
“Suit yourself. I can save the money.”
Frank felt a pang of guilt. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I just can’t afford it. I’m making minimum wage.”
Ray shrugged.
“Ah,” Frank moaned, rolling his eyes and taking one last huge bite of macaroni and cheese. “I forgot I gotta call Gerard and chew his ass out.”
“Smart man. I told you it’s his fault.”
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
Ray was already moving for the door. “I have to get going anyway,” he explained, waking backwards, gesturing in apology. “Let me know if anything fun happens.”
“Okay.”
“And try staying off the roof.”
“Yeah.”
“At least in the rain.”
The door slammed behind him, pushed by the wind, and Frank called Gerard.
The light spilled over Frank now as he leaned from the edge of his house’s roof, fingers gripping the brick chimney. The rain was a mist, slicking his hair into snaky tendrils that curled on his skin. Death waited for this one, eagerly grinning with the wait for the fall.
Frank let out a breath. He opened his eyes, pulling back onto the roof.
Death’s smile faded. Perhaps he hadn’t been wanted here today.
“Frank,” called Iero’s friend, and he turned around to see Ray, bowl of macaroni and cheese in hand. “Get the hell down from there. It’s probably slick.”
“Sort of,” Frank confessed, edging his way across the slanted shingle roof towards the bedroom window. “I hope you have some of that for me.” A pause in movement to nod in reference of the noodles.
“Sure, whatever. Come on; I’m getting wet in here.”
“Don’t stand there, then,” cracked Frank, perched on the windowsill.
“You’re dripping.”
“It’s only water.”
“Well, it sure as hell better not be anything else.”
“The piss of God.”
Ray chuckled as Frank hopped down and shut the window with wet, chilled fingers. “You gonna kill yourself or something? You’re psychotic.”
“It’s not psychotic to want to spend some time outside in the rain. There’s a lot to soak in besides the rain out there,” Frank replied, shoes sloshing as he walked to the bathroom. “I’m not going to kill myself. That’s stupid.”
“I guess if you were going to, that remark would have been very insensitive of me.”
“You offend my very being, Ray.”
Frank whipped a towel from the bar in the bathroom, drying his hair and unsuccessfully trying to pat his clothes dry. Ray shook his head, mop of curls agreeing, before turning and trotting down the stairs. “Come eat,” he called.
“Yeah, let me change first.”
Frank’s bedroom wasn’t large. DVDs were scattered on the floor, some hidden under clothes, some open. He worked at a movie rental store several miles from home; of course, free rentals were his only discount. A Bruce Willis DVD cover took the brunt of the rain as Frank dropped his wet jeans into a heap on the floor.
“Didn’t realize that was there,” muttered Frank, annoyed as he kicked his jeans away from the DVD.
The still air in the house was enough to raise goosebumps on Frank’s damp skin as he dug around for dry clothes. He signed as he pulled one of Mikey’s shirts from under his bed.
The kid wouldn’t be seeing that shirt ever again.
He wasn’t a kid. In truth, Frank never perceived him as such—but he was Gerard’s little brother, which gave him that title regardless. And regardless of what title he held, he wasn’t here anymore.
Frank pulled the black shirt over his head, yanking it down over his stomach. Well, since he had to go and take off, Frank would just have to keep the shirt. He picked lint from his shoulders, pulled on a pair of dry jeans, and bounded downstairs.
“Mikey’s shirt,” Ray noted as Frank entered the kitchen, barefoot and looking for hot food.
“You’re attentive,” replied Frank.
“Maybe so. I miss him. Can’t believe he did that, just left.”
“You know,” Frank said thoughtfully, forking cheesy macaroni straight from the pot to his mouth, “He didn’t just leave. Gerard just left, which sort of…prompted Mikey to follow.”
“For whatever reason.”
“I guess the fact that they’re close friends and brothers doesn’t count.”
“Nope.”
Ray wasn’t much for arguing. They left it at that, Ray rummaging through the refrigerator while Frank ate the slowly cooling macaroni and cheese. Ray was a rock to Frank, Gerard and Mikey. He’d been friends with them for years, although they had been out of contact for a short time, while Ray pursued other things with local bands whose careers never quite panned out.
No matter how fickle the music industry turned out to be for Ray, he remained steadfast as a friend, offering sage advice and rarely speaking with anyone about his disapproval of anyone else’s actions.
Until now. But perhaps it was just too bothersome to ignore. Close-knit, their group was now scattering. He and Ray, half of the whole, were abandoned.
“They’re family,” Frank sighed again. “It would be sad for Mikey to just let Gerard move away after being right next to each other their whole lives.”
“Well, then, it’s Gerard’s fault. Just because he was having a rough time doesn’t mean he had to take off to fuckin’ Chicago.” Ray had given up on the fridge and was sitting on the counter. “And I know he didn’t really think Mikey would stay put.”
“I guess,” Frank said feebly.
“Sorry. It gets under my skin.”
“Understood.”
“I was thinking we could go visit, but I guess they haven’t been out long enough for us to do that.”
“Yeah, plus we haven’t been working at our six-figure salary jobs long enough yet to afford the trip.”
“Suit yourself. I can save the money.”
Frank felt a pang of guilt. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. I just can’t afford it. I’m making minimum wage.”
Ray shrugged.
“Ah,” Frank moaned, rolling his eyes and taking one last huge bite of macaroni and cheese. “I forgot I gotta call Gerard and chew his ass out.”
“Smart man. I told you it’s his fault.”
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
Ray was already moving for the door. “I have to get going anyway,” he explained, waking backwards, gesturing in apology. “Let me know if anything fun happens.”
“Okay.”
“And try staying off the roof.”
“Yeah.”
“At least in the rain.”
The door slammed behind him, pushed by the wind, and Frank called Gerard.