Telling the Two Apart
007
“God.”
Mikey Way had started his escapade with a rush of adrenaline, ready to see his brother again, ready to do what had to be done, hell, maybe even excited to be getting out of New Jersey. He’d started throwing things into suitcases and had even gone so far as to drive to the grocery store and get boxes. Pack, pack, pack. His heart was thudding. A change! He could be a completely new person—a new haircut, some new clothes, ditch the glasses. Gerard was the only one who would know what he’d always been like, and that didn’t matter. What a great excuse to explore oneself.
Which is, perhaps, what Gerard had been aiming for.
All the while, Mikey’s mind had been haplessly running, a train speeding, steaming along to an uncertain near future. But then the phone, sitting on his bed where’d he’d tossed it after Gerard had called back, let out a trill.
Mikey picked it up to see who could be calling.
Frank.
And that was when he’d uttered his curse to the higher power, sitting down slowly.
“Hello?”
“Mikey? Hey.” Frank was eating something and had a mouthful of it, whatever it was. “You busy?”
“Um…” Boxes everywhere, the room torn apart, a decision not yet uttered. “Why?”
“I was thinking of going somewhere, and then my neighbors started fighting again, so that more or less sealed the deal.” Chewing. “We could…I don’t know, we could go bowling.”
Bowling would have to be the last thing on Mikey’s mind at the moment. Unfortunately, his friends and family had been the last thing on his mind a few hours ago.
Scratch that. Family had been on his mind. Gerard, at least.
He’d been sitting silently for too long; now Frank was curious. “What’s up, Mike? Everything okay over there? Did your mom come over with another quiche?”
Mikey couldn’t even muster up a laugh. “Things are fine.”
“They don’t sound fine. Mind if I come by?”
“Go ahead.”
“Okay—I’ll be there in fifteen.”
No farewell, just a faint click. Mikey dropped the phone and turned back to his tasks, placing neatly folded shirts and pants into boxes, one for this, one for that, shoes go here, and here go all the things he’s written, and there go all the birthday cards.
He lived with several roommates, who weren’t home but undoubtedly would want to know about the boxes and the plans.
And what about his mother? What would she do without her two (once inseparable) sons?
He closed the flaps of one box. One, two, three, four. He’d have to tell his mother—and soon, because he wasn’t going to be in Newark for much longer.
His mind carried on this way, cursing and stabbing and cringing, for the next ten minutes or until Frank knocked on the door, whichever came first.
“Mikey.”
Mikey stepped aside, allowing Frank in. His friend seemed confused as he slid past, and Mikey knew he was noting the absence of Mikey’s pictures on the living room wall. “So what’s going on?” said Frank.
“Nothing. I’m moving to Chicago.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Seriously.”
“What?”
Mikey, Gerard, and Frank had all been friends for years. Mikey had marveled, now and then, at his and Gerard’s relationship—most brothers led completely separate lives. Their mother was undeniably glad for it, although they fought from time to time.
“I’m going to sort of…you know, reunite with Gerard,” Mikey said now, retreating to the kitchen with Frank on his heels. He opened the refrigerator door and took solace in that he could somewhat hide behind it. Frank said nothing. “We had a talk earlier.”
“How did that go?” Frank asked suspiciously.
Mikey shut the refrigerator, removing his glasses, and leaned pensively on the counter. “Well, y’know, it’s obvious that Gerard’s not going to be living back here. And he’s my brother; he’s the most important thing to me.” With a sheepish glance at Frank, he finished, “So I have to go to Chicago.”
“Okay.” Frank hopped up and plopped down on the counter beside Mikey. “What I’m not seeing, what I may be missing or what may in fact not be there, is the connection between Gerard being important and you going to Chicago.”
“He’s my best fucking friend, Frank!”
“You’re my best fucking friend!”
“Then you’d understand why I have to go, wouldn’t you?”
“No! I wouldn’t! I don’t see why you can’t just call him and send him fucking postcards!”
“Jesus.” Mikey hadn’t prepared to engage Frank in a battle of wills. “I want to be near my brother. I expected you to be a little more supportive than that.” Frank stared at the tile floor, brooding, and Mikey wondered what thoughts were racing along behind those angry eyes. “Can’t you understand why I want that?”
Finally Frank looked at Mikey sincerely. “Yeah.”
They were silent for a while, each of them thinking, unmoving.
“Gerard said he’s made a friend recently.”
“Cool.”
“Some girl.”
“Ah.” Frank shifted his weight, hopped off the counter, his sneakers squeaking on the clean tiles. Another long pause, Frank obviously in thought. “I guess it would be redundant if I told you I wanted you to stay.”
“I don’t know, man, everything is getting all dramatic now. I mean, Gerard didn’t want me to come either. It’s like I’m fighting with everyone, and isn’t it my own decision?”
“Of course, but that doesn’t mean nobody else can say what they think.”
“It’s like a really bad soap opera.”
“Such is life.”
“Such is daytime TV.”
Mikey always treasured his friendships; he took note of and appreciated the fact that one minute, he and Frank could be screaming at one another in front of the refrigerator and the next, they could be amicably talking about soap operas.
Frank somewhat surprised Mikey now by saying, “Well, you probably still have to book a flight and everything, so I can, I dunno, maybe I can help if you need it.” He began the statement slowly, measuring his words, but finished in the rush one gets when offering comfort or aid.
“Heh, well, I have everything under control,” Mikey lied.
Frank’s surprise was obvious. “How long have you been planning this?” he asked, wide-eyed.
With a sigh, Mikey admitted that he hadn’t planned anything and had no money, no transportation, and no clue whatsoever. Frank put his arm around Mikey’s shoulders, smiled and said, “We’ll have you out of here by tomorrow.”
Great friends.
Mikey Way had started his escapade with a rush of adrenaline, ready to see his brother again, ready to do what had to be done, hell, maybe even excited to be getting out of New Jersey. He’d started throwing things into suitcases and had even gone so far as to drive to the grocery store and get boxes. Pack, pack, pack. His heart was thudding. A change! He could be a completely new person—a new haircut, some new clothes, ditch the glasses. Gerard was the only one who would know what he’d always been like, and that didn’t matter. What a great excuse to explore oneself.
Which is, perhaps, what Gerard had been aiming for.
All the while, Mikey’s mind had been haplessly running, a train speeding, steaming along to an uncertain near future. But then the phone, sitting on his bed where’d he’d tossed it after Gerard had called back, let out a trill.
Mikey picked it up to see who could be calling.
Frank.
And that was when he’d uttered his curse to the higher power, sitting down slowly.
“Hello?”
“Mikey? Hey.” Frank was eating something and had a mouthful of it, whatever it was. “You busy?”
“Um…” Boxes everywhere, the room torn apart, a decision not yet uttered. “Why?”
“I was thinking of going somewhere, and then my neighbors started fighting again, so that more or less sealed the deal.” Chewing. “We could…I don’t know, we could go bowling.”
Bowling would have to be the last thing on Mikey’s mind at the moment. Unfortunately, his friends and family had been the last thing on his mind a few hours ago.
Scratch that. Family had been on his mind. Gerard, at least.
He’d been sitting silently for too long; now Frank was curious. “What’s up, Mike? Everything okay over there? Did your mom come over with another quiche?”
Mikey couldn’t even muster up a laugh. “Things are fine.”
“They don’t sound fine. Mind if I come by?”
“Go ahead.”
“Okay—I’ll be there in fifteen.”
No farewell, just a faint click. Mikey dropped the phone and turned back to his tasks, placing neatly folded shirts and pants into boxes, one for this, one for that, shoes go here, and here go all the things he’s written, and there go all the birthday cards.
He lived with several roommates, who weren’t home but undoubtedly would want to know about the boxes and the plans.
And what about his mother? What would she do without her two (once inseparable) sons?
He closed the flaps of one box. One, two, three, four. He’d have to tell his mother—and soon, because he wasn’t going to be in Newark for much longer.
His mind carried on this way, cursing and stabbing and cringing, for the next ten minutes or until Frank knocked on the door, whichever came first.
“Mikey.”
Mikey stepped aside, allowing Frank in. His friend seemed confused as he slid past, and Mikey knew he was noting the absence of Mikey’s pictures on the living room wall. “So what’s going on?” said Frank.
“Nothing. I’m moving to Chicago.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Seriously.”
“What?”
Mikey, Gerard, and Frank had all been friends for years. Mikey had marveled, now and then, at his and Gerard’s relationship—most brothers led completely separate lives. Their mother was undeniably glad for it, although they fought from time to time.
“I’m going to sort of…you know, reunite with Gerard,” Mikey said now, retreating to the kitchen with Frank on his heels. He opened the refrigerator door and took solace in that he could somewhat hide behind it. Frank said nothing. “We had a talk earlier.”
“How did that go?” Frank asked suspiciously.
Mikey shut the refrigerator, removing his glasses, and leaned pensively on the counter. “Well, y’know, it’s obvious that Gerard’s not going to be living back here. And he’s my brother; he’s the most important thing to me.” With a sheepish glance at Frank, he finished, “So I have to go to Chicago.”
“Okay.” Frank hopped up and plopped down on the counter beside Mikey. “What I’m not seeing, what I may be missing or what may in fact not be there, is the connection between Gerard being important and you going to Chicago.”
“He’s my best fucking friend, Frank!”
“You’re my best fucking friend!”
“Then you’d understand why I have to go, wouldn’t you?”
“No! I wouldn’t! I don’t see why you can’t just call him and send him fucking postcards!”
“Jesus.” Mikey hadn’t prepared to engage Frank in a battle of wills. “I want to be near my brother. I expected you to be a little more supportive than that.” Frank stared at the tile floor, brooding, and Mikey wondered what thoughts were racing along behind those angry eyes. “Can’t you understand why I want that?”
Finally Frank looked at Mikey sincerely. “Yeah.”
They were silent for a while, each of them thinking, unmoving.
“Gerard said he’s made a friend recently.”
“Cool.”
“Some girl.”
“Ah.” Frank shifted his weight, hopped off the counter, his sneakers squeaking on the clean tiles. Another long pause, Frank obviously in thought. “I guess it would be redundant if I told you I wanted you to stay.”
“I don’t know, man, everything is getting all dramatic now. I mean, Gerard didn’t want me to come either. It’s like I’m fighting with everyone, and isn’t it my own decision?”
“Of course, but that doesn’t mean nobody else can say what they think.”
“It’s like a really bad soap opera.”
“Such is life.”
“Such is daytime TV.”
Mikey always treasured his friendships; he took note of and appreciated the fact that one minute, he and Frank could be screaming at one another in front of the refrigerator and the next, they could be amicably talking about soap operas.
Frank somewhat surprised Mikey now by saying, “Well, you probably still have to book a flight and everything, so I can, I dunno, maybe I can help if you need it.” He began the statement slowly, measuring his words, but finished in the rush one gets when offering comfort or aid.
“Heh, well, I have everything under control,” Mikey lied.
Frank’s surprise was obvious. “How long have you been planning this?” he asked, wide-eyed.
With a sigh, Mikey admitted that he hadn’t planned anything and had no money, no transportation, and no clue whatsoever. Frank put his arm around Mikey’s shoulders, smiled and said, “We’ll have you out of here by tomorrow.”
Great friends.