Anorex-a-Gogo
Elsewhere
* * *
It's a long hallway, and it's white. Blinding bright-light white. On instinct, I shade my eyes with my arm, but it doesn't really help. The light is reflecting off of the floor, so I'm blinded from every angle. I settle for squinting and then continue walking down the hall.
I'm not sure why I'm walking. All I know is that I have to. Even though I don't know where or why I am going, I just know I have to keep on walking.
So I'm walking. There are doors in the hallway. I go through some of them because I just don't know what else to do.
There's a little girl in the first room. Her head is bald and her blue eyes look too big for her head. Wide-eyed innocent. Her teddy bear looks a little worse for wear. She tells me she died of Leukemia. She holds up four of her fingers. That's how old she is, she tells me.
A woman is coddling a baby in a room that is painted a soft blue. I go in here because it's a calming relief to be in a world that isn't white.
The woman is young and red-headed. She rocks her baby against her chest and motions for me to be quiet. I keep my mouth shut and lean against the wall.
"Where are we?" I whisper after a moment.
She keeps her eyes rested on her child, petting the infant's soft tuft of flaming hair. "We're in Elsewhere now," she whispers back.
And then she tells me how she got here. She says that her husband abused her, day and night. She tells me she just got fed up, that the world just wasn't treating her right. She tells me that she drowned her baby in the bathtub to save her. Then she says she shot herself. She shows me the hole that's healing in the back of her head. Then she points out the hole ripped open in my side.
She says she's happy now, sitting here in this blue room with her baby girl.
In another room, an old man smokes a cigar. Says he lived rich and died poor. Died alone in a homeless shelter with nothing to his name. Says life was just as lonely as Elsewhere.
I decide not to visit anymore. This Elsewhere place seems depressing.
Underneath it all, I understand that I'm probably dead. After all, this is Elsewhere, and normal hallways don't usually blind the fuck out of people.
One door is open. My name is scrawled across the chart hanging from the door. This room seems darker, a quiet shadow, and almost inviting. Because I'm bored and a curious little fucker, I slip into this room and shut the door behind me.
Oh my Karma, there is Gerard. I slowly walk over to him, my shoes squeaking on the shiny linoleum floor. He's hunched over this bed, where a sad figure is lumped under the blankets. Oh Jesus, how real he is. His spine pokes out from underneath his black tee shirt. I run my fingers down the raised bumps, sending a shiver through my limbs. He doesn't turn around, or even seem to feel it. I plunge my face into his hair, smelling his Gerard essence.
Watch me melt on the spot.
"Oh, Gee," I breath, skimming my lips along his cheekbone. I know he can't feel me, but damn, I can feel him. It feels like years have passed since I last touched him.
I cross around to the other side of the bed. I'm thinking, what if Owen killed me and then went on to murder Gerard? What if we're both stuck somewhere in this Elsewhere?
His face is the most comforting thing there is. Even though it's lined from frowning and his eyes are creased with sadness. Even though his eyelashes are all stuck together with dried tears. Even though he looks older than nineteen, never nineteen. I'm still brought home by the sight of his face.
"Smile, Gee," I beg him, reaching out to touch his face again.
But he continues only to stare blankly, ancient, staring at the mass in the bed. I let my eyes drift to where his gaze rests, and I'm met with what I'd feared I'd see.
A mirror image. My face looks as white as the crisp sheets my body is tucked under. My cheeks are sunken in and hollow, like the smooth insides of a sea shell, and just as marble-like. My chest is bare, a bandage wound around most of my torso. Ribs poke through my skin like jagged edges, hills on a plain.
For the first time in years, I don't see a fat-ass kid, don't feel the embarrassment of my naked upper half. Instead, I'm shocked to feel ashamed. I look emaciated and weak, too thin for my body's natural build. I look like a boy who starved himself to go unnoticed. Maybe a boy who wanted attention all along.
I touch my counterpart's face, and it's waxy against my fingertips. So cool, so fake.
A whisper reaches my ears. I look up and notice for the first time that Gerard's lips are moving. So slow, so very little movement at all. But he's speaking, words that I want to hear so badly.
Gerard leans over so that his forehead is pressed to the forearm of the Frankie in bed. I feel a tingle rush through my own body with this contact. He plants a soft kiss to the skin, then another. How strange it is that I can feel his lips like a ghost on my skin, even when it's not exactly me he's kissing.
It's like a mantra. As if the repeated words will make us stronger. And they do. As I listen to them, hope builds in me like a fire and spreads throughout my chest cavity. He has so much hope, so much more than I could imagine. They instill in me this super-power feeling, as if nothing could break us. And I listen, I listen to them so hard, and with each passing moment I believe it's more and more true. I want them to be true more than anything.
"Love can save us," he whispers, "Love can save us."
Please, God, let this be truth. I don't know where the fuck we are, or what's going to happen. I don't even know if I'm dead or not. All I know is that whatever higher power that is out there somewhere is looking down on us. Whether it's Karma, or Buddha, or even God--we are being watched. And Gerard is uttering a small prayer, whether he knows it or not. Love can save us. If there is a power that can, it has to be love. It's just that simple.
"Love can save us, Frankie. I know it can, we just need to try. We'll try a little harder. Love can save us, I swear. You just need to wake up."
He told me he knew I didn't believe in him. He told that to me--yesterday? A year ago? A lifetime ago? Who knows. Maybe no time has passed at all. But he said I didn't believe in him. This couldn't be farther from the truth. I believe in Gerard more than any higher power. Even more than Karma. I believe in Gerard and I believe him when he says that love can save us.
He's telling me love can save us if I Just. Wake. Up.
So I do.
It's a long hallway, and it's white. Blinding bright-light white. On instinct, I shade my eyes with my arm, but it doesn't really help. The light is reflecting off of the floor, so I'm blinded from every angle. I settle for squinting and then continue walking down the hall.
I'm not sure why I'm walking. All I know is that I have to. Even though I don't know where or why I am going, I just know I have to keep on walking.
So I'm walking. There are doors in the hallway. I go through some of them because I just don't know what else to do.
There's a little girl in the first room. Her head is bald and her blue eyes look too big for her head. Wide-eyed innocent. Her teddy bear looks a little worse for wear. She tells me she died of Leukemia. She holds up four of her fingers. That's how old she is, she tells me.
A woman is coddling a baby in a room that is painted a soft blue. I go in here because it's a calming relief to be in a world that isn't white.
The woman is young and red-headed. She rocks her baby against her chest and motions for me to be quiet. I keep my mouth shut and lean against the wall.
"Where are we?" I whisper after a moment.
She keeps her eyes rested on her child, petting the infant's soft tuft of flaming hair. "We're in Elsewhere now," she whispers back.
And then she tells me how she got here. She says that her husband abused her, day and night. She tells me she just got fed up, that the world just wasn't treating her right. She tells me that she drowned her baby in the bathtub to save her. Then she says she shot herself. She shows me the hole that's healing in the back of her head. Then she points out the hole ripped open in my side.
She says she's happy now, sitting here in this blue room with her baby girl.
In another room, an old man smokes a cigar. Says he lived rich and died poor. Died alone in a homeless shelter with nothing to his name. Says life was just as lonely as Elsewhere.
I decide not to visit anymore. This Elsewhere place seems depressing.
Underneath it all, I understand that I'm probably dead. After all, this is Elsewhere, and normal hallways don't usually blind the fuck out of people.
One door is open. My name is scrawled across the chart hanging from the door. This room seems darker, a quiet shadow, and almost inviting. Because I'm bored and a curious little fucker, I slip into this room and shut the door behind me.
Oh my Karma, there is Gerard. I slowly walk over to him, my shoes squeaking on the shiny linoleum floor. He's hunched over this bed, where a sad figure is lumped under the blankets. Oh Jesus, how real he is. His spine pokes out from underneath his black tee shirt. I run my fingers down the raised bumps, sending a shiver through my limbs. He doesn't turn around, or even seem to feel it. I plunge my face into his hair, smelling his Gerard essence.
Watch me melt on the spot.
"Oh, Gee," I breath, skimming my lips along his cheekbone. I know he can't feel me, but damn, I can feel him. It feels like years have passed since I last touched him.
I cross around to the other side of the bed. I'm thinking, what if Owen killed me and then went on to murder Gerard? What if we're both stuck somewhere in this Elsewhere?
His face is the most comforting thing there is. Even though it's lined from frowning and his eyes are creased with sadness. Even though his eyelashes are all stuck together with dried tears. Even though he looks older than nineteen, never nineteen. I'm still brought home by the sight of his face.
"Smile, Gee," I beg him, reaching out to touch his face again.
But he continues only to stare blankly, ancient, staring at the mass in the bed. I let my eyes drift to where his gaze rests, and I'm met with what I'd feared I'd see.
A mirror image. My face looks as white as the crisp sheets my body is tucked under. My cheeks are sunken in and hollow, like the smooth insides of a sea shell, and just as marble-like. My chest is bare, a bandage wound around most of my torso. Ribs poke through my skin like jagged edges, hills on a plain.
For the first time in years, I don't see a fat-ass kid, don't feel the embarrassment of my naked upper half. Instead, I'm shocked to feel ashamed. I look emaciated and weak, too thin for my body's natural build. I look like a boy who starved himself to go unnoticed. Maybe a boy who wanted attention all along.
I touch my counterpart's face, and it's waxy against my fingertips. So cool, so fake.
A whisper reaches my ears. I look up and notice for the first time that Gerard's lips are moving. So slow, so very little movement at all. But he's speaking, words that I want to hear so badly.
Gerard leans over so that his forehead is pressed to the forearm of the Frankie in bed. I feel a tingle rush through my own body with this contact. He plants a soft kiss to the skin, then another. How strange it is that I can feel his lips like a ghost on my skin, even when it's not exactly me he's kissing.
It's like a mantra. As if the repeated words will make us stronger. And they do. As I listen to them, hope builds in me like a fire and spreads throughout my chest cavity. He has so much hope, so much more than I could imagine. They instill in me this super-power feeling, as if nothing could break us. And I listen, I listen to them so hard, and with each passing moment I believe it's more and more true. I want them to be true more than anything.
"Love can save us," he whispers, "Love can save us."
Please, God, let this be truth. I don't know where the fuck we are, or what's going to happen. I don't even know if I'm dead or not. All I know is that whatever higher power that is out there somewhere is looking down on us. Whether it's Karma, or Buddha, or even God--we are being watched. And Gerard is uttering a small prayer, whether he knows it or not. Love can save us. If there is a power that can, it has to be love. It's just that simple.
"Love can save us, Frankie. I know it can, we just need to try. We'll try a little harder. Love can save us, I swear. You just need to wake up."
He told me he knew I didn't believe in him. He told that to me--yesterday? A year ago? A lifetime ago? Who knows. Maybe no time has passed at all. But he said I didn't believe in him. This couldn't be farther from the truth. I believe in Gerard more than any higher power. Even more than Karma. I believe in Gerard and I believe him when he says that love can save us.
He's telling me love can save us if I Just. Wake. Up.
So I do.