He's a Bitch

Gerard POV

Mikey came back a few hours later. I wasn’t sure if he and Frank had gotten back together, and I didn’t really want to ask. Mikey just went straight to his room when he came back; I could hear him walking up the stairs and down the hallway. His door shut softly behind him.

He hadn’t slammed his door...did that mean that they’d gotten back together and Mikey was happy? But he’d put loud music on...did that mean that Mikey was crying and trying to cover it up? I felt I should go in there and see, but I couldn’t really comfort him...it’d be hypocritical of me.

I sighed and rolled over in my bed onto my side. I decided I wouldn’t go see Frank anymore. It was torture being near him and knowing that I couldn’t be with him because of Mikey. I glanced at my clock on my bedside table and realized that visiting hours had finished. Frank would probably be wondering why I hadn’t shown up; probably all prettied up...but Mikey had shown up instead of me. And Frank would be disappointed because I wasn’t going to show up ever again.

I heard Mikey’s door open and he called, “I’m gonna go to Ray’s, Gerard! Bye!”

His footsteps sounded on the stairs, the front door slammed and he was gone again. I sighed and clambered off my bed, walking down the hallway, down the stairs, through the lounge room and into the kitchen. I needed beer and I needed it now. I looked through the fridge and found a few cans stashed away at the bottom....mum and dad thought I wouldn’t find it there. Fuck yeah; this is exactly what I need. I pulled the five cans out, shut the fridge door and took them with me as I went back up to my room.

Half an hour later I was lounging leisurely on my bed, watching nothing in particular on my TV. Three empty beer cans littered the floor and I still had one in my hand. I raised it to my lips and took a small sip. I didn’t particularly want to get drunk: just wanted to relax a bit and stop thinking about all the fucked up things going on around me. I’d been replaying it over and over in my head and I still couldn’t believe that I’d kissed Frank; I kissed my brother’s boyfriend. Its bad enough I kissed someone else’s boyfriend at all, but it just had to be my brother’s.

The house was so quiet. Kind of creepy really. Everyone was out, leaving me alone in the house.

I felt alone a lot of the time. I didn’t feel comfortable being around Mikey because I felt guilty about my feelings for Frank; Ray and Bob were busy trying to keep their rekindled relationship under wraps from their girlfriends (kinda stupid seeing as their girlfriends were kinda in love with each other anyway); my parents definitely wouldn’t understand and Frank was...well.... he was Frank and still in the hospital.

I leant back into my pillows and lay on my side, curling up. I wondered what would happen if Mikey ever found out about the kiss incident. Would he hate me forever or would he forgive me as he’d forgiven Frank so many times before? I sighed, snuggling my face further into my pillows.

A while later there was the sound of the front door slamming shut and I heard my dad call, “Gerard?!” up the stairs. I sighed, knowing that this was probably something to do with him wanting me to give up drinking. That’s pretty much the only time we talked now...when he tried to convince me to get off the alcohol and sober up. I reluctantly got up and made my way downstairs. Why won’t he just leave it alone?

Once I’d stepped off the last stair I raised a hand to my face and scratched below my left eye. I was so goddam sleepy. Damn coffee, why must it be so irresistible? I’d had so much yesterday that I’d been up half the night on a caffeine high.

“Where are you, dad?” I called out.

“I’m in the kitchen, son,” he responded, and I went into the kitchen, finding him sitting at the table.

I noticed that he had a cardboard file filled with sheets of paper. Knowing dad it was probably filled with pages with ‘So you’re an alcoholic...’ and ‘Giving up the grog’ written on them. I eyed the file suspiciously and sat down in a chair next to my dad. He gave me a small smile and patted me on the shoulder. I just sat still...why was he being all nice like? He’s trying to trick me isn’t he...just trying to lull me into a false sense of security and then, BAM! He comes out with the, “son, we’ve signed you up for AA meetings.” God Gerard, stop being so paranoid.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I asked, tying to make conversation.

“I’m on a lunch break...”

He picked up the file and fidgeted with it, looking slightly apprehensive. Out with it dad, what’re you hiding in that file.

“I brought you back my file on addictions,” he said, his voice calm.

I sighed and rolled my eyes; I knew it. What did I say? I just folded my arms and leant back in my seat. Mwahaha, nobody can lull me into a false sense of security.

“Dad, I’m 19,” I said back, exasperatedly.

“Exactly, and I don’t want to see you throw your life away at such a young age” he responded sternly.

I sighed, louder this time, just to make sure he could tell that I was pissed off. So I like to drink....that doesn’t mean I’m throwing my life away. I’m sure heaps of successful people like to drink.

“I can drink if I want to” I said, my voice stubborn.

I was acting like a kid, I knew I was but I didn’t care.

“I know, son,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “But do you know how many people I’ve treated who’ve been addicted to alcohol? Their lives are messes....it’s just really sad, Gerard.”

I looked away from him, feeling a little guilt at being such a brat. I knew that he was only being so persistent because he cared, but still....

“Why don’t we just talk about this, hey?” he said quietly.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. What the fuck? “Talk about this”...I’m not fucking mentally unstable!

“You can’t treat me, dad,” I said sharply. “I’m your son.”

“I know I can’t treat you,” he sighed. “I just thought we could have a father-son talk....”

“Oh.”

I hung my head, feeling even more guilt for jumping to conclusions. Afterall, he was my dad. He just wanted what was best for me; he wanted me to be happy. I guess it’s pretty clear to everyone that I’m not happy.

“Now, I know that you’ve been depressed since your break up with Robert,” he began, sighing slightly. “...but there are plenty more guys out there and I bet there’s someone who’s just waiting for you to come along. You’ve got so much going for you...you’re young, you’re good-looking which I admit you can’t take all the credit for....”

“Yeah, way to be modest, dad,” I said, rolling my eyes and grinning.

That was my dad for you. Anyone ever mentions how handsome little Gerard has gotten, my dad jumps in with, “it’s all in the Way gene.” I could tell my mum gets exasperated by it, but she just laughs it off good naturedly.

Dad gave a quiet laugh before continuing.

“You’re artistic....There are heaps of people who fancy guys who can express themselves through artwork.”

I nodded; that was true. But it was generally the girls who were into the whole “mysterious artist” thing. And let’s face it...I’m not “mysterious” and I may be artistic, but I’m no artist. Bert used to love that about me...or maybe he just pretended to. I wondered if Frank was into the ‘mysterious artist’ thing. Come to think of it...I don’t even know the type of guy that Frank goes for.

I looked back up at my dad. He was smiling and I couldn’t help but be grateful at his words, but still...this was weird, I mean, he’s a psychologist. I felt like my every word and movement was getting analyzed.

“Look dad...thanks for being here and all,” I muttered, rubbing at the side of my head. “...I just don’t think I’m really comfortable talking about this with you.”

“Oh....” His face fell and it made me feel guilty.

“I’m sorry. It’s not you...it’s just, you’re a psychologist and it’s just weird.”

“No no, that’s fine. I’m sure you can talk it over with Raymond and Robert.” His face screwed up in confusion. “...I mean, the other Robert...Bob.”

“Yeah.” I looked down at my hands, fidgeting with them in my lap.

“Talk to Mikey,” dad suggested. “I bet he’ll make you feel better....I remember when you two were little and you were having a panic attack because you had to get a needle for influenza...he was hugging you and telling you it’d be alright, that he wouldn’t let the needle get away with it.”

“Yeah, thanks for bringing that up dad,” I muttered, blushing in embarrassment.

I may have been freaked out by that needle, but I was only eight and it was pointy. I remember when Mikey freaked out when we were at the beach after me, Mikey, Bob and Ray watched ‘Jaws’ over at Bob’s house. He wouldn’t go in the water and started crying when Ray picked him up and tried to throw him in. Ray got into so much shit for that from his mum and my mum. I sat with Mikey on the sand for the rest of the day and told him over and over that shark attacks don’t happen very often; he was pretty much clinging on to me for dear life.

“I’ve got a file on phobias that I could bring back for you,” dad said, casually.

I rolled my eyes slightly. What is this? Freaking “Save Gerard” week or something?

“No thanks, I’ll just take this.”

I picked up the addictions file off the table and stood up. Before I left the kitchen I turned to my dad and smiled weakly.

“Thanks dad,” I mumbled. “I know I haven’t been the easiest kid to raise and I know that I disappoint you and mum a lot....”

“Not at all,” dad said sternly. “You’re trying your best.”

I smiled and leant down, hugging him. I was trying my best; I was trying my best to hold together and to not let my emotions get out of control. And I was trying my best to get through this year without failing. I didn’t want to repeat my senior year again. I broke away from my dad and stood up straight.

“Just do your best, Gerard,” he said, giving me a pat on top of my head. “That’s all me and your mother will ever ask of you."