Demolition Lovers
This Broken City Like Butane On My Skin.
Sleep never came easily, but tonight, I fell asleep with a sigh, my eyelids closing shut at once.
We hung out for the next few days – Mikey was in and out of the house as he pleased, and Gerard and I usually sat without talking. I sometimes got to watch him do his artwork. I mostly hung out with Gerard’s mom (she commanded me to call her Donna) and we watched TV together.
One day, while I was helping Donna with a few house chores and doing some dusting, I came across a picture of two teenage boys. They weren’t quite teenage - more like maybe twelve or thirteen, at the most. Gerard was on the right, smiling in a way he didn’t seem to anymore. Next to him was Mikey - they really did look alike. I was reminded that yes - they did look alike - the jaw line, shape of their eyes, the bridge of their nose. I grinned to myself and continued dusting, knowing for sure that they were definitely siblings.
Like Alicia and I were, I thought, and abruptly cut the thought short, returning to my dusting.
---
A few days after I had arrived, Gerard received a call from Cartoon Network.
“This is Gerard… Yes, I created the Breakfast Monkey… Oh! Alright then. I’ll be there on Tuesday.” He had said. This was when I finally learned that Gerard was having a meeting with the official suits down at Cartoon Network in the city, on Tuesday, September 11th.
Very early in the morning, Gerard left early with an actually clean, collared shirt, tie, and jeans with a folder and his messenger bag of stuff, and he hugged me before leaving.
That was nice.
Once Gerard had left, Mikey had a few hours before heading to Barnes and Nobles to start his new part-time job, so we took some time to sit down and relax. We were both drinking coffee from the island counter and watching TV, while Mikey casually smoked a cigarette. The thick scent of smoke and coffee relaxed me, bringing back memories of my mother. The crisp weather made the scene almost seem beatific in a way.
We had been silent for a long time, before Mikey took the final – and last – drag, he tapped out the cigarette and stubbed it in the ashtray before sighing. “He likes you, you know.” He muttered, flipping through the various channels. He looked oddly at peace, even with the strange way he was looking at the TV – his glasses, hanging off the edge of his nose, and his head tilted up so he could look through the lenses.
I blinked, and started to choke on my mouthful of coffee. It was lukewarm by now, but my tongue felt like it had been burned by the liquid. “You – he- I- what?” I managed to cough out. I could feel my face turning red from both the lack of air and the lack of dignity in the situation.
Mikey snorted. “He likes you. A lot.” He repeated dully, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “More than you’d…” he was suddenly cut off by the phone ringing, but I knew what he was about to say. Needless to say, I was relieved by the phone call – until I heard Gerard’s voice.
I could hear his voice from the phone, he was screaming as loud as possible. “TURN ON C-N-FUCKING-N RIGHT NOW, MIKEY.”
“But why?” Mikey whined, looking pained. “I was going to watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force with Ella.”
“JUST TURN IT ON, OR I SWEAR TO FUCK, I WILL SMASH THE TV IN USING YOUR HEAD.” An audible click was heard, and I snatched the TV remote from Mikey and switched onto CNN.
I saw the most horrific images of my life on that 40-inch screen TV.
A tall, proud building was standing. I recognized it immediately – the World Trade Center. One of the strongest, tallest buildings in the world stood proudly in the New York skyline. It was practically the symbol of New York, even more so than the Empire State Building, the New York Zoo, Central Park itself.
This was why the next few minutes confused me.
An out-of-control plane was starting to glide slowly towards the towers, approaching the tall building – too low to be legal, even though I had never flown a plane before. I watched, confused as the plane started to tilt sideways, turning, picking up speed as it started to turn and turn -
Until it crashed into the World Trade Center.
I screamed. The television was filled with a wracking boom, and Mikey dropped the green smiley-face mug he had been holding onto. I collapsed onto the ground, shaking – oh, my god.
I was the tower.
I could see it now. I had been tall, strong, able to stand on my own. Then people, events and etcetera started attacking me – and under pressure, I would collapse.
I would collapse.
Those three words repeated in my head, as the building started to crumble, to turn into rubble, to let out the thick smoke. The other parts of the tower started to crumble, but I was too numb to care. I was comparing myself to a burning tower with thousands of dying people in it, for god’s sake.
Mikey was the first to snap out of it. Stepping over the spilt coffee, he started to steer me over to Gerard’s room, and shut the door behind me before phoning someone. I could hear everything, since I was collapsed in front of the shut door.
"Gee." Mikey breathed, after a few moments of silence. After a few moments of silence, he sighed and mumbled a small "Thank you," and put the phone down. I could hear him returning to me, so I tried to make everything look semi-normal – I couldn’t stop the shaking or the hyperventilation though.
Mikey opened the door, took one look at me, and lifted me up, struggling a bit then placing me on the bed, pulling the covers that had been thrown off the bed over myself, as I started to cry and pulled myself into the fetal position.
“I’m going to Barnes and Nobles now. Gee's coming in a few minutes, it won't take long.” Mikey said, before pulling the blinds.
I stayed curled up, watching Mikey walk around the room and lit the scented candles from the living room. The room was instantly enclosed in the warm, rich smell of vanilla instead of stale cigarette.
I lay there, quiet as stone as Mikey left the room and left the house, to his job. I started counting - a challenge for myself, to keep myself from fainting or hyperventillating. I had been counting almost for almost thirty minutes, when he returned. I turned to the doorway when he walked through the door - he looked ashen, even in the warm glow of candles everywhere. He was covered in rubble and soot, as if he had been there.
I burst into tears when he pulled me to his chest, when he sat down.
His fingers ran through my short hair, as he tried to soothe me into staying calm. “Shh.” He said, over and over, staring at me while clearly, he was the one who had been shocked, more than I. I couldn’t say anything, barely able to whimper. I was getting freaked out and scared this time - scared, because I was turning into a nervous wreck, and freaked out, because I was being unusually trustful. Which was weird, especially for me.
We sat there, on the bed, while I was sobbing and he seemed to be shaking slightly while he stroked my hair. We were both shaken, severely. I for different reasons than him, but nonetheless, we both needed time.
Gerard was the one to first start talking. “Some crazy shit, huh?”
“Yeah.” I paused to stifle a sob, gasping a brief breath. After a long breath, I sighed. “Keep talking. It makes me less…”
He got the hint. “Well, shall we discover why you were trying to jump a bridge on Saturday, September first, 2001?”
My tone turned sharp. “Well, shall we discover why you were walking past me and ruined my plans to…”
“To what?” He inquired, and I knew that I had said too much.
“Nothing.” I replied hastily, changing the subject. “My point is - what the fuck were you doing there? There’s never any foot traffic on that bridge.” I eyed him carefully, nestling my face in his lap now, carefully positioning my eyes to stare at the Misfits poster on the wall in front of me.
“Do you want me to be like the government or like Gerard Arthur Way?”
“Remind me to ask you who named you.”
“It was my grandma, actually. I’m going to assume you’re asking me to be like… Me.”
He sighed and shifted, so my head looked up at his head. I flushed and squirmed, but he wouldn’t hear of it, keeping my head in between his calloused hands. I stared at the poster up on the ceiling, keeping my eyes from him.
“Look at me, please.”
“I don’t have to listen to you, if you don’t have to listen to me.”
“I’ll listen to you if you’ll listen to me. It’s just my turn right now, and I don’t like talking to people when they don’t look at me directly.” He said, and I sighed and reluctantly looked at him.
“Well. I was crossing the bridge, because I had some stuff to do on the other side. Tell me, do you know why Gerard Way crossed the bridge?”
“Ha ha. Very funny. You know that I know that you’re lying.”
"The truth would hurt you more than any lie ever would."
"I don't care. I want for us to be honest."
Gerard sighed, pausing to stare at something - the candle, maybe? - and he eyed me carefully.
"You want the honest truth?"
"The truth, the absolute truth and nothing but the truth."
He sighed, looking over to the shuttered windows before reaching for something in the back pocket of his jeans. Pulling out a cigarette, he leaned over and lit one using the candle, taking a long drag.
"I was going to jump."
We hung out for the next few days – Mikey was in and out of the house as he pleased, and Gerard and I usually sat without talking. I sometimes got to watch him do his artwork. I mostly hung out with Gerard’s mom (she commanded me to call her Donna) and we watched TV together.
One day, while I was helping Donna with a few house chores and doing some dusting, I came across a picture of two teenage boys. They weren’t quite teenage - more like maybe twelve or thirteen, at the most. Gerard was on the right, smiling in a way he didn’t seem to anymore. Next to him was Mikey - they really did look alike. I was reminded that yes - they did look alike - the jaw line, shape of their eyes, the bridge of their nose. I grinned to myself and continued dusting, knowing for sure that they were definitely siblings.
Like Alicia and I were, I thought, and abruptly cut the thought short, returning to my dusting.
---
A few days after I had arrived, Gerard received a call from Cartoon Network.
“This is Gerard… Yes, I created the Breakfast Monkey… Oh! Alright then. I’ll be there on Tuesday.” He had said. This was when I finally learned that Gerard was having a meeting with the official suits down at Cartoon Network in the city, on Tuesday, September 11th.
Very early in the morning, Gerard left early with an actually clean, collared shirt, tie, and jeans with a folder and his messenger bag of stuff, and he hugged me before leaving.
That was nice.
Once Gerard had left, Mikey had a few hours before heading to Barnes and Nobles to start his new part-time job, so we took some time to sit down and relax. We were both drinking coffee from the island counter and watching TV, while Mikey casually smoked a cigarette. The thick scent of smoke and coffee relaxed me, bringing back memories of my mother. The crisp weather made the scene almost seem beatific in a way.
We had been silent for a long time, before Mikey took the final – and last – drag, he tapped out the cigarette and stubbed it in the ashtray before sighing. “He likes you, you know.” He muttered, flipping through the various channels. He looked oddly at peace, even with the strange way he was looking at the TV – his glasses, hanging off the edge of his nose, and his head tilted up so he could look through the lenses.
I blinked, and started to choke on my mouthful of coffee. It was lukewarm by now, but my tongue felt like it had been burned by the liquid. “You – he- I- what?” I managed to cough out. I could feel my face turning red from both the lack of air and the lack of dignity in the situation.
Mikey snorted. “He likes you. A lot.” He repeated dully, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “More than you’d…” he was suddenly cut off by the phone ringing, but I knew what he was about to say. Needless to say, I was relieved by the phone call – until I heard Gerard’s voice.
I could hear his voice from the phone, he was screaming as loud as possible. “TURN ON C-N-FUCKING-N RIGHT NOW, MIKEY.”
“But why?” Mikey whined, looking pained. “I was going to watch Aqua Teen Hunger Force with Ella.”
“JUST TURN IT ON, OR I SWEAR TO FUCK, I WILL SMASH THE TV IN USING YOUR HEAD.” An audible click was heard, and I snatched the TV remote from Mikey and switched onto CNN.
I saw the most horrific images of my life on that 40-inch screen TV.
A tall, proud building was standing. I recognized it immediately – the World Trade Center. One of the strongest, tallest buildings in the world stood proudly in the New York skyline. It was practically the symbol of New York, even more so than the Empire State Building, the New York Zoo, Central Park itself.
This was why the next few minutes confused me.
An out-of-control plane was starting to glide slowly towards the towers, approaching the tall building – too low to be legal, even though I had never flown a plane before. I watched, confused as the plane started to tilt sideways, turning, picking up speed as it started to turn and turn -
Until it crashed into the World Trade Center.
I screamed. The television was filled with a wracking boom, and Mikey dropped the green smiley-face mug he had been holding onto. I collapsed onto the ground, shaking – oh, my god.
I was the tower.
I could see it now. I had been tall, strong, able to stand on my own. Then people, events and etcetera started attacking me – and under pressure, I would collapse.
I would collapse.
Those three words repeated in my head, as the building started to crumble, to turn into rubble, to let out the thick smoke. The other parts of the tower started to crumble, but I was too numb to care. I was comparing myself to a burning tower with thousands of dying people in it, for god’s sake.
Mikey was the first to snap out of it. Stepping over the spilt coffee, he started to steer me over to Gerard’s room, and shut the door behind me before phoning someone. I could hear everything, since I was collapsed in front of the shut door.
"Gee." Mikey breathed, after a few moments of silence. After a few moments of silence, he sighed and mumbled a small "Thank you," and put the phone down. I could hear him returning to me, so I tried to make everything look semi-normal – I couldn’t stop the shaking or the hyperventilation though.
Mikey opened the door, took one look at me, and lifted me up, struggling a bit then placing me on the bed, pulling the covers that had been thrown off the bed over myself, as I started to cry and pulled myself into the fetal position.
“I’m going to Barnes and Nobles now. Gee's coming in a few minutes, it won't take long.” Mikey said, before pulling the blinds.
I stayed curled up, watching Mikey walk around the room and lit the scented candles from the living room. The room was instantly enclosed in the warm, rich smell of vanilla instead of stale cigarette.
I lay there, quiet as stone as Mikey left the room and left the house, to his job. I started counting - a challenge for myself, to keep myself from fainting or hyperventillating. I had been counting almost for almost thirty minutes, when he returned. I turned to the doorway when he walked through the door - he looked ashen, even in the warm glow of candles everywhere. He was covered in rubble and soot, as if he had been there.
I burst into tears when he pulled me to his chest, when he sat down.
His fingers ran through my short hair, as he tried to soothe me into staying calm. “Shh.” He said, over and over, staring at me while clearly, he was the one who had been shocked, more than I. I couldn’t say anything, barely able to whimper. I was getting freaked out and scared this time - scared, because I was turning into a nervous wreck, and freaked out, because I was being unusually trustful. Which was weird, especially for me.
We sat there, on the bed, while I was sobbing and he seemed to be shaking slightly while he stroked my hair. We were both shaken, severely. I for different reasons than him, but nonetheless, we both needed time.
Gerard was the one to first start talking. “Some crazy shit, huh?”
“Yeah.” I paused to stifle a sob, gasping a brief breath. After a long breath, I sighed. “Keep talking. It makes me less…”
He got the hint. “Well, shall we discover why you were trying to jump a bridge on Saturday, September first, 2001?”
My tone turned sharp. “Well, shall we discover why you were walking past me and ruined my plans to…”
“To what?” He inquired, and I knew that I had said too much.
“Nothing.” I replied hastily, changing the subject. “My point is - what the fuck were you doing there? There’s never any foot traffic on that bridge.” I eyed him carefully, nestling my face in his lap now, carefully positioning my eyes to stare at the Misfits poster on the wall in front of me.
“Do you want me to be like the government or like Gerard Arthur Way?”
“Remind me to ask you who named you.”
“It was my grandma, actually. I’m going to assume you’re asking me to be like… Me.”
He sighed and shifted, so my head looked up at his head. I flushed and squirmed, but he wouldn’t hear of it, keeping my head in between his calloused hands. I stared at the poster up on the ceiling, keeping my eyes from him.
“Look at me, please.”
“I don’t have to listen to you, if you don’t have to listen to me.”
“I’ll listen to you if you’ll listen to me. It’s just my turn right now, and I don’t like talking to people when they don’t look at me directly.” He said, and I sighed and reluctantly looked at him.
“Well. I was crossing the bridge, because I had some stuff to do on the other side. Tell me, do you know why Gerard Way crossed the bridge?”
“Ha ha. Very funny. You know that I know that you’re lying.”
"The truth would hurt you more than any lie ever would."
"I don't care. I want for us to be honest."
Gerard sighed, pausing to stare at something - the candle, maybe? - and he eyed me carefully.
"You want the honest truth?"
"The truth, the absolute truth and nothing but the truth."
He sighed, looking over to the shuttered windows before reaching for something in the back pocket of his jeans. Pulling out a cigarette, he leaned over and lit one using the candle, taking a long drag.
"I was going to jump."
♠ ♠ ♠
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