All I Wanted Was You

Gerard pulled himself up the stairs with Bandit swung over his shoulder, giggling and tugging at his hair. It hung a few inches short of the shoulders, sort of greasy and matted anticipating a shower and was dyed a pretty enthusiastic shade of red. He could still hear Lindsay and Mikayla in the kitchen, their voices growing dimmer as he ascended the second of his home's two staircases, winding up from the kitchen directly into his and Lindsay's master bedroom.

Running Bandit’s bathwater, he inwardly smiled at the thought of his wife downstairs helping Mikayla organize all her makeup work from Thursday and Friday. He marveled at the fact that his wife could be so deliciously fucking badass, yet also so loving and supportive. Gerard more than approved of the idea that this maternal woman doubled as the chick he’d glanced at for the first time during one of her band’s sets as she climbed to the top of scaffolding supporting the outdoor stage and, from there, cast herself off into the crowd waiting below.

The first time they spoke was backstage at the same show, about twenty minutes later – she was sitting on the floor with a bloody nose and ice to her knee. He had made some sort of dopey comment and they started talking. A small while later, when he insisted that she should keep the ice on her blooming bruises even after she wanted to get up and start walking again, she had said fine, you hold it then. As blood dribbled from her nose down towards her chirping mouth, she smiled, insisting the excitement was worth it. She was a total badass; he was not the stage diving (let alone, scaffolding-driving) type of rocker. Christ, he blushed pressing that icepack to her thigh.

After her bath, Gerard read Bandit a Toy Story picture book – his was not a Disney Princesses and gender roles household – and put her to bed. Downstairs, he kissed both his wife and niece atop the head in passing, shuffling towards the front door.

Ray – his band’s lead guitarist and one of his best friends – was there for Saturday game-night which, essentially, consisted of the pair playing xbox until about eleven o’clock when one or both of them became too tuckered out. They were very docile thirty-one-year-old rock stars. Sometimes Mikey or Frank came over too, but not usually.

“Raymond!” Lindsay called from the kitchen, “How’s the wife?”

“Good,” Ray sent back, chuckling. He followed Gerard from the front foyer towards the kitchen, “She’s in California visiting her sister.”

“And she left you behind?” Lindsay shot up from the table to give Ray a quick hug. Lindsay was not a small girl, yet Ray towered over her in the embrace – over six feet tall, with combat boots, ripped jeans, an Iron Maiden tee beneath a faded leather jacket and voluminous curly hair as wide as the rest of his body. He had thick lips and a benevolent smile.

“More like, I left myself behind this time,” Ray laughed, shaking his head, “I love my in-laws but we’ve been flying out to California like twice a month for visits.”

“Well, if Christine left without you that just means more Ray for us,” she said, then turned back to Mikayla at the table, “Okay, that’s forty-five minutes, finish your last sentence.” Mikayla scribbled a few last words into her essay conclusion then dropped her pencil and sat, dazed, blowing fruitlessly at a stray piece of hair in her face.

Ray shot a confused look at Gerard, who explained as they walked out towards the family room how his wife was helping Mikayla with makeup work for school and putting a time-limit on all the assignment so she didn’t make herself crazy trying to perfect everything.

Ray nodded, though he wondered when Lindsay had turned into a tutor. However it happened, Ray was sure Mikayla didn’t need one. Until a few months back, she was constantly around with Lindsay and Gerard and he knew her enough and had had enough conversations with her to realize that Lindsay’s tiny spitfire of a niece was easily smarter than he and his band mates put together.

“Poor thing had a panic attack the other day in school and Lynn had to go get her. She’s trying to get a system together so Mikayla has time to think about stuff other than school shit.”

Ray nodded and the two sat back on the big leather sofa with their controllers.

In the kitchen, Mikayla was tossing all of her school things back into her bag. She’d been at Lindsay’s house since her dismissal on Thursday and didn’t mind. It wasn’t even particularly odd; in the summertime, the guest room had become her own makeshift bedroom. Until school got too stressful, she had spent nearly every day there. She liked it – what with her great relationship with her aunt and uncle, having her baby cousin nearby, and getting out of a house where she was the only child to two parents on very direct and busy paths to success in their respective careers.

“There,” Lindsay said, “you finished everything in less than two hours. Told ya!”

“Thank you, Auntie Lynnie,” Mikayla squeaked, tangling a fist through her thick brunette waves.

“Anytime, babe,” Lindsay was just happy her niece was beginning to breathe like a normal person again and even had a hint of a smile on her tired face. The previous morning, while Mikayla sat in the car with Bandit, she had retrieved all Mikayla’s makeup work from the school. That night, she insisted Mikayla take it all out in one swing, timing each assignment so that minute details couldn’t drag her down. Still, Mikayla finished almost everything.

She sat at the table, pretty satisfied, actually. Lindsay went off to her bedroom to answer a phone call from Jimmy, her best friend and the lead singer in her own band, and Mikayla eventually got up and drifted through the family room towards the staircase out in the foyer. It didn't hit her until a few minutes after Lindsay left that it wasn't actually satisfying to spent Saturday nights hanging out with your aunt because you don't have any friends your own age.

“Hey, Pumpkin,” her uncle greeted her.

“Uncle Gee, Ray,” she saluted each of them and took a seat on the floor.

“How’d it go?” her uncle asked, pausing the game and running a hand through his florescent hair – disturbing its already pretty sloppy appearance. He had a ski-slope nose, shiver-white skin, cheeky smile, and puffy cheeks that remained as the only evidence of the chubby teenager he’d been. It doesn’t really sound that way, but Gerard Way was a fucking catch and she was glad he’d married her aunt back when she was thirteen. He was the dreamy sort of handsome that comes when a whole bunch of modest traits are all sewn together so well that each of them starts to feel spectacular.

“Not quite so shitty,” Mikayla told, yawning, “Hell of a lot better than it’d have been in I went to school the past two days. I wish Auntie Lynnie could just homeschool me.”

Gerard smirked, “I love that you still call her that. It’s adorable.”

“Yeah, yeah… but seriously, don’t make me go back to that place. I need to be homeschooled!”

“Not sure Lindsay’s qualified for that…” Ray mused, chuckling sympathetically at her.

“Don’t think so,” Mikayla said, returning to her feet, “Alright, well, have fun with your game-night, dorks. See ya later, Ray.”

“Bye Mikayla.”

“G’night, babe,” Gerard called after his niece.

He felt for her, he really did. Sometimes talking to Mikayla reminded him of being younger and drinking cough medicine with a straw to calm himself. He had known her since she was eleven or twelve and even then she was the most brilliant and strong-willed adolescent he’d ever met. So smart, she couldn’t really relate to the other, less-mature kids her age.

She was an in-between kid, like he had been in high school. She was one of those kids who didn’t really made sense anywhere you tried to slide her in. Those ones weren’t bullied; they were ignored.

She complained about the superficial preppy kids in all her AP classes – who only took them because the high course-level looked good. She was not the type to follow the mainstream just because and a girl as focused as Mikayla would sooner slap a stoner than get through a friendly conversation with one. She had dated a boy named Parker a few months back and kinda-sorta got along with his group of friends. Parker, however, was a part of this pseudo-punk scene at Mikayla’s school and Gerard remembered meeting him once before they broke up and, as a musician himself, finding the kid to be this odd misinformed sort of pretentious because he thought he was “punk” – which, for the record, he wasn’t.

Gerard knew how, really, all Mikayla needed was someone she fit in with; someone to downplay the little things for her.