Simple.
1/1
“What’s your secret Gerard?” He has asked me so many times. There was a simple answer to this, as there is a simple answer for everything.
“Tell me.” He whined blinking his eyes three times. I smiled.
“It’s not a secret.” I settled the plates in the table and took two steps back to admire it. It was perfect. It needed to be perfect. I can’t take it if it isn’t perfect and he sees it. “Food’s ready.” I said. He came into the kitchen.
“One, two, three. One two three. One, two… No!” He gave a frustrated sigh and walked back, seconds later he came back. “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.” He stopped next to the chair but didn’t sit, I didn’t either. I couldn’t or his rituals would have no meaning and he would do them again, three times. His obsession with number three was his saviour and punishment. It was everything he did. Number three was him himself and I have learned to love it too.
He caressed the chairs back three times, back and forth.
“One, two, three.”
Tapped the table point three times. “One, two, three.” He looked up and smiled at me blinking three times. It was over.
He sat on the chair and I did the same next to him. Our cooling food was still untouched, and our stomachs groaning, so we easily dove into them as we had a casual conversation. It was my favourite time of the day.
I always finish first. He takes his time to eat, he always does that. I don’t really care about the foods taste as long as it’s good enough to eat. I just stare at him. I know he notices it but he just ignores. I guess it’s the habit. I do that too. I ignore the stares and the turned heads.
Some people care, some people ask, some people stare. You end up learning to ignore people. I don’t need them, he’s all I need. Some people might not understand why I’m with him. Not even my parents, not even my brother, not even Frank himself. But there’s a simple answer as there is a simple answer for everything.
“Gerard, I’m worried about you.”
My mom always tells me the same thing. She says I’m young and should be living the life of a young man.
“Why mom? Why? I’m okay, I’m not too skinny, I’m not hurt and I have a smile on my face.”
I always answered the same thing, but she doesn’t seem to understand what I’m saying. It’s like I’m talking, but she’s not listening.
“No. Why son? Why do you stay? Why don’t you leave and live the life you are wasting right this moment!”
I just learned to ignore my mom.
“Bro, I want to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Frank. I don’t think that’s life for you. Bro, you could do so much better.”
“I don’t want to. I’m okay the way I am.”
“But-”
“Leave it.”
I didn’t need to learn to ignore him. My brother just stopped calling.
“Gerard?” He called me from my day dreams. I day dream a lot, mostly just remember things. The same conversations I had so many times with my family. They didn’t bother anymore and I didn’t care. It didn’t matter to me much. I could care less if they cared or not as long as I had him, he was my world.
My friends. I never had many. The ones I had ended up leaving too. They didn’t need me. I understand I was only a burden and they didn’t need it just as much as they thought I didn’t need Frank, but that was a lie. I needed him. I needed him to heal the cuts the others do.
I don’t really care that he has an obsession with number three, or that he blinks his eyes three times in a row, or that he taps the table point before sitting, or caresses the chair back and forth. I don’t mind he does it three times every time. I don’t mind he does it nine times if he gets it wrong. I don’t mind.
Before going to bed, I don’t mind he has to do the bed and undo the bed three times perfectly. I don’t mind he has to check the doors and windows three times, even if we live on the ninth floor. I don’t mind he brushes his teeth so hard it bleeds and that he washes his body so hard it gets bruised when he showers. I don’t mind.
“Yes honey?”
“Why do you always stay? How do you do it? What’s your secret?”
My secret?
Why does it have to be a secret?
What I do… It’s no secret.
There’s a simple answer, as there is a simple answer for everything:
When he kisses me sweetly three times before going to bed, I know it was all worth it.
“I love you. That’s my secret.”
“Tell me.” He whined blinking his eyes three times. I smiled.
“It’s not a secret.” I settled the plates in the table and took two steps back to admire it. It was perfect. It needed to be perfect. I can’t take it if it isn’t perfect and he sees it. “Food’s ready.” I said. He came into the kitchen.
“One, two, three. One two three. One, two… No!” He gave a frustrated sigh and walked back, seconds later he came back. “One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.” He stopped next to the chair but didn’t sit, I didn’t either. I couldn’t or his rituals would have no meaning and he would do them again, three times. His obsession with number three was his saviour and punishment. It was everything he did. Number three was him himself and I have learned to love it too.
He caressed the chairs back three times, back and forth.
“One, two, three.”
Tapped the table point three times. “One, two, three.” He looked up and smiled at me blinking three times. It was over.
He sat on the chair and I did the same next to him. Our cooling food was still untouched, and our stomachs groaning, so we easily dove into them as we had a casual conversation. It was my favourite time of the day.
I always finish first. He takes his time to eat, he always does that. I don’t really care about the foods taste as long as it’s good enough to eat. I just stare at him. I know he notices it but he just ignores. I guess it’s the habit. I do that too. I ignore the stares and the turned heads.
Some people care, some people ask, some people stare. You end up learning to ignore people. I don’t need them, he’s all I need. Some people might not understand why I’m with him. Not even my parents, not even my brother, not even Frank himself. But there’s a simple answer as there is a simple answer for everything.
“Gerard, I’m worried about you.”
My mom always tells me the same thing. She says I’m young and should be living the life of a young man.
“Why mom? Why? I’m okay, I’m not too skinny, I’m not hurt and I have a smile on my face.”
I always answered the same thing, but she doesn’t seem to understand what I’m saying. It’s like I’m talking, but she’s not listening.
“No. Why son? Why do you stay? Why don’t you leave and live the life you are wasting right this moment!”
I just learned to ignore my mom.
“Bro, I want to talk to you.”
“About?”
“Frank. I don’t think that’s life for you. Bro, you could do so much better.”
“I don’t want to. I’m okay the way I am.”
“But-”
“Leave it.”
I didn’t need to learn to ignore him. My brother just stopped calling.
“Gerard?” He called me from my day dreams. I day dream a lot, mostly just remember things. The same conversations I had so many times with my family. They didn’t bother anymore and I didn’t care. It didn’t matter to me much. I could care less if they cared or not as long as I had him, he was my world.
My friends. I never had many. The ones I had ended up leaving too. They didn’t need me. I understand I was only a burden and they didn’t need it just as much as they thought I didn’t need Frank, but that was a lie. I needed him. I needed him to heal the cuts the others do.
I don’t really care that he has an obsession with number three, or that he blinks his eyes three times in a row, or that he taps the table point before sitting, or caresses the chair back and forth. I don’t mind he does it three times every time. I don’t mind he does it nine times if he gets it wrong. I don’t mind.
Before going to bed, I don’t mind he has to do the bed and undo the bed three times perfectly. I don’t mind he has to check the doors and windows three times, even if we live on the ninth floor. I don’t mind he brushes his teeth so hard it bleeds and that he washes his body so hard it gets bruised when he showers. I don’t mind.
“Yes honey?”
“Why do you always stay? How do you do it? What’s your secret?”
My secret?
Why does it have to be a secret?
What I do… It’s no secret.
There’s a simple answer, as there is a simple answer for everything:
When he kisses me sweetly three times before going to bed, I know it was all worth it.
“I love you. That’s my secret.”