Skin and Bones

There’s a hole in my sock. It’s a pair of my own, old ones. I should throw these out tonight when I take them off.
I haven’t opened the new pack yet. Donna bought me a pack with 12 pairs. I know she bought them specifically for me and that she wants me to wear them, but I can’t.
What if I don’t stay? Then I would’ve opened a pack of socks which she could easily get her money back for.

Craig was here earlier to see my room. He told me to be prepared. He told me my dad has a strong case, even if he did freak out when he was here. He’s told the court that he’s been taking anger management classes. That’s why he left; he was afraid he’d hurt me and my mom.

He did anyway.

Mikey’s playing metal. I guess he has music for different times a day. And for different visitors.

I can’t help but grin. I’m happy for him. He’s probably on his bed sucking on Alicia’s tongue right now, but if I hear any noises, I’m going for a walk – a long one. I could just take a shorter walk and go down to Gerard’s room, but I don’t know if he’d be okay with that. He’s not home. He had a biology project to do with Ray. I still don’t know if I like that guy or not.

There’s a knock on the door and Mikey pops his head in.

“Hey,” he says a little out of breath, before he blushes and looks down.
“Do you know if Gerard’s got any…uhm…condoms?” My eyebrows go up while my head goes down. I’m going for a walk for sure.

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“Oh,” is Mikey’s only response. I hear him walk away and quickly jump off the bed to catch him in the hall.

“Donna’s gonna be home in an hour,” I tell him. I don’t want him to be caught in a very…intimate situation, just because he forgot what time she was gonna be home early.
He turns around and smiles, walking backwards instead.

“I know.” He turns and walks down the stairs to the basement. I roll my eyes, before I turn back and go to my room. I grab a sweater and pull it over my head on my way to the front door, where I put on my shoes. As I’m tying one of them, Mikey comes up from the basement with what’s obviously a wrapped condom between his fingers.

He just waves at me quickly – probably glad to see me go.

I quickly tie the other shoe and almost run out the door.

-----

I walk along the street and decide to go toward the city. If I get there fast, I could always go for a walk around the mall, before I go back. I’ve got an hour to waste.

I walk past a playground and speed up. Kids can be so mean, and being bullied by a 7-year-old who thinks I look like “a twat” isn’t what I need right now. I’m sure they don’t even know what it means, but it still hurts. Yet, if someone my own age said it to me, I’d consider them dense and it wouldn’t offense me at all.

Kids can just be so mean.

Without even thinking about it, I’ve walked to the end of the street – far past the playground – and I turn left.

But then I stop.

I’d walk past my own street if I go down this road. I can’t believe I’ve never thought of that. We’ve been driving by my street twice a day for weeks now. Every time we’ve gone to school, we’ve driven by it. Every time we went home, we drove past it. But I never noticed it.

I turn around and walk the other way.

I guess it’s a good thing that I haven’t thought of it. It’s a good thing that I haven’t noticed how often we drove by the street I grew up on. It’s nothing special. I only trick-or-treated for 7 years, so it’s not like that street is all filled with memories. Every street has nice neighbors. Every street has an old lady, who hands out the best candy and always remembers your birthday. You can always find someone to play tag with or fight against in a water balloon fight during the long, hot summers.
Every street has that.

I hope.

I look up when someone yells.

“Stop it! Dude!” Two guys with their hoods drawn over their heads stumble onto the road and a car honks at them.
“Asshole!” one of them yells after the car and flips it off.

I should probably go back home.

One of the guys goes back onto the sidewalk and digs around in his pocket. My eyes stay fixed on his hand as I stop breathing. My eyes stay wide open. My guts shoves itself up into my throat and my jaw starts quivering.
If it’s a knife, I’ll turn around and run. If it’s a gun, I’ll hope to fuck the guy hasn’t seen me.
When a brown paper-bag shaped as a bottle emerges, I let out my breath. I close my eyes and slowly feel my stomach crawl back down where it belongs.

“Gee! Get off the street!” I look up.
“Stop acting like a hussy!” The guy on the sidewalk brings the paper-bag to his lips, while the guy on the road trips over the curb. He stumbles forward but manages to catch his balance before he falls flat on his face.
He stands still like that – holding his position, probably to make sure he’s actually standing still.

Suddenly, he straightens up. The sudden motion makes his hood fall back and off his head, revealing his long, black hair.

Gerard.

“Give me some ethanol, my friend,” he says loudly and stretches his hand out towards the other guy, who only shakes his head and takes another swig.
“Raaay!” Ray pulls the bottle away from his mouth and holds it close to his chest.

“Only if you know the special password,” he says smugly and lifts his chin up to look down at Gerard.

“Huh?”

“What’s the molu- molecular formula!” Gerard grins and Ray joins in.
Gerard looks up at the sky.

”C2H5OH,” he yells loudly.
”C2H5OH!” He bows his head and looks at Ray.

”C2H5OH,” Ray grins and hands him the bottle.

I don’t see Gerard put the bottle to his lips. My eyes overflow at that point.

I turn around and run. I run so fast in hopes that he hasn’t seen me. I wish I could run faster so that I didn’t see it.

I did that. I let that happen. He told me! He told me he’d had an alcohol problem! He told me all about how he drank because it took away the pain!
Oh, no! I caused him pain. He needs to drink because of me. I…
He forgot to drink. He forgot to drink when he was around me, but…

I don’t know anymore! All I know is that he’s drinking. He’s drinking again.
It must be my fault. I’ve been too focused on my own problems that I’ve completely forgotten to make sure he’s okay. I even forgot my friend! I forgot to talk to my friend and hear how his relationship was going! I forget everything!

I’m not running fast anymore. I don’t know if it even qualifies as running, so I stop. I slow down to a walk, before I stop completely.

The police tape is gone.

I ran to my house.

I really do forget everything.

-----

I poke at my dinner. Gerard is next to me, but I can’t look at him. I know he’s waiting for me to follow his moves – to eat at his slow pace – but I can’t look at him.
And I don’t feel hungry.

“Frank?” Donna asks and I look up. She looks sympathetic.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I look back down at her food and feel guilt punch me in the gut. I blink the pain away the best I can.

I put my fork down and shake my head as I lay my hands in my lap.

“It’s alright, sweety. I don’t feel too hungry either.” I know she’s saying that to make me feel better, but it only makes me feel worse. I don’t want her not to be hungry because of me.
“Since your appetite can’t be ruined any further, I guess I might as well tell you now.” I lift my head to look at her. I try to avoid frowning, but it’s hard. I’m confused.

She sighs softly, before she lays her arms on the table – elbows as well – and leans over her plate.

“Craig called.” My head spins along with my stomach.
“You need to be in court on Friday. For your dad’s case.” I look down at the centerpiece.
My head spins more, so I close my eyes to stop it.
It doesn’t.