Telling the Two Apart
015
“So you have a girlfriend already?”
Gerard sighed and flopped onto his bead, springs creaking. “Don’t say it like that. It’s not the end of the world. I’m a man; I can make my own decisions.”
“Hmph.”
“By myself.”
Frank was sipping something on the other end. Gerard assumed it was Coke; he could picture Frank, can and straw, rolling his eyes at Gerard’s alleged stupidity.
He’d expected more anger from his friend than he’d gotten; in reality, Frank was upset, but it was more in the way of a child whose mother refused to buy cotton candy. It wasn’t fair. It was overanalyzing his friendship and every other relationship in his life, seeing too clearly the trash he lived in, wondering if he was becoming biased in the other direction. It was seeing Chicago’s grass as greener. It was seeing that Chicago stole his two best friends and that maybe Chicago could just damn well have him too.
“Just relax. I still haven’t even said that I’m staying here permanently. Everyone just figured on it. Maybe I’ll get sick of it.”
“Like you got sick of Jersey?”
“I didn’t get sick of Jersey. I got sick of the people in it, the things in it.”
“The people?” Frank’s voice was an octave higher. “The fucking people? Oh, great. Thanks a lot, buddy.”
“Shut up! You know I’m not talking about you.”
“What other family or friends do you hate so much, then?”
“If it were Mikey, I’d be pretty fucked right now, wouldn’t you say?”
Normally, Frank would have laughed, a sound that could bring a sparkle to Gerard’s eyes no matter what the day had been like. Now, he just sniffed, an action that could have shown some humor or maybe just disgust.
“God, get a grip. I’m sick of the strangers, you know, not the people I know in person.” The people that threw their trash on the ground in their own front yard, the people who had guns underneath their jerseys and leather coats, the people who smacked their children in convenience stores where the lights were dim and flickering and the cashier slipped cash from the drawer into his sweaty pocket. “Why is everyone so mad?”
Frank shrugged on the other end, forgetting that Gerard wasn’t able to see him. “We miss you.”
“Nice way of showing it, huh?”
A sigh from his friend. “Sometimes we don’t know how else to show it. I’m sorry that we call you when were mad and not when we’re teary-eyed and sentimental.”
Gerard was silent for too long. Frank picked up the slack.
“Tell me about this girl. So she isn’t your girlfriend yet, then. Where are you with her?”
“Oh god,” Gerard groaned. “I don’t know. Today is the first day I’ve seriously had to think about it.” He told Frank about the picnic, leaving out the butterflies in his stomach, the warm breath on his cheek, the fingers that had hesitantly slipped between his. He mentioned the kiss. He mentioned that it had caught him off guard that he’d even done it, but that was all.
“Looks like you’re in deep,” Frank noted.
“Observant of you.”
“Your mom misses you.”
Gerard sighed. “Yeah, I know. I talked to her a couple days ago.”
“You’re making this feel like an interrogation or something,” Frank grumbled. “Like you just really don’t want to be a part of this conversation. Which would leave me kind of dangling, because I’d have nobody to talk to.”
“You could hang up the phone.”
“You know what? I might do that.”
“Do.”
And he did, with a short, insulted “bye.”
Gerard fell back onto his pillow, eyes wide open. He began to think about how tired he was of friends and family and their nagging opinions, but he got no further than one grumbling thought before the doorbell rang elsewhere in the house.
Gerard sighed and flopped onto his bead, springs creaking. “Don’t say it like that. It’s not the end of the world. I’m a man; I can make my own decisions.”
“Hmph.”
“By myself.”
Frank was sipping something on the other end. Gerard assumed it was Coke; he could picture Frank, can and straw, rolling his eyes at Gerard’s alleged stupidity.
He’d expected more anger from his friend than he’d gotten; in reality, Frank was upset, but it was more in the way of a child whose mother refused to buy cotton candy. It wasn’t fair. It was overanalyzing his friendship and every other relationship in his life, seeing too clearly the trash he lived in, wondering if he was becoming biased in the other direction. It was seeing Chicago’s grass as greener. It was seeing that Chicago stole his two best friends and that maybe Chicago could just damn well have him too.
“Just relax. I still haven’t even said that I’m staying here permanently. Everyone just figured on it. Maybe I’ll get sick of it.”
“Like you got sick of Jersey?”
“I didn’t get sick of Jersey. I got sick of the people in it, the things in it.”
“The people?” Frank’s voice was an octave higher. “The fucking people? Oh, great. Thanks a lot, buddy.”
“Shut up! You know I’m not talking about you.”
“What other family or friends do you hate so much, then?”
“If it were Mikey, I’d be pretty fucked right now, wouldn’t you say?”
Normally, Frank would have laughed, a sound that could bring a sparkle to Gerard’s eyes no matter what the day had been like. Now, he just sniffed, an action that could have shown some humor or maybe just disgust.
“God, get a grip. I’m sick of the strangers, you know, not the people I know in person.” The people that threw their trash on the ground in their own front yard, the people who had guns underneath their jerseys and leather coats, the people who smacked their children in convenience stores where the lights were dim and flickering and the cashier slipped cash from the drawer into his sweaty pocket. “Why is everyone so mad?”
Frank shrugged on the other end, forgetting that Gerard wasn’t able to see him. “We miss you.”
“Nice way of showing it, huh?”
A sigh from his friend. “Sometimes we don’t know how else to show it. I’m sorry that we call you when were mad and not when we’re teary-eyed and sentimental.”
Gerard was silent for too long. Frank picked up the slack.
“Tell me about this girl. So she isn’t your girlfriend yet, then. Where are you with her?”
“Oh god,” Gerard groaned. “I don’t know. Today is the first day I’ve seriously had to think about it.” He told Frank about the picnic, leaving out the butterflies in his stomach, the warm breath on his cheek, the fingers that had hesitantly slipped between his. He mentioned the kiss. He mentioned that it had caught him off guard that he’d even done it, but that was all.
“Looks like you’re in deep,” Frank noted.
“Observant of you.”
“Your mom misses you.”
Gerard sighed. “Yeah, I know. I talked to her a couple days ago.”
“You’re making this feel like an interrogation or something,” Frank grumbled. “Like you just really don’t want to be a part of this conversation. Which would leave me kind of dangling, because I’d have nobody to talk to.”
“You could hang up the phone.”
“You know what? I might do that.”
“Do.”
And he did, with a short, insulted “bye.”
Gerard fell back onto his pillow, eyes wide open. He began to think about how tired he was of friends and family and their nagging opinions, but he got no further than one grumbling thought before the doorbell rang elsewhere in the house.