I'm the Kind of Human Wreckage That You Love.

I quickly dialed my friend and got the number for the office of a Mr. Charles Whitney. I called his office and scheduled an appointment
in an hour. Until then I decided to drive to and abandoned dock that
I’d been going to since I moved to Jersey. All I could do was stare out into the
murky water. To tell you the truth all I wanted to do was stand at
the bottom of the river.

I got to the office and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. The
woman at the desk asked me to take a seat. I picked up a National
Geographic magazine and began reading about giant pandas. I had
become very involved in my reading when I heard the door open. I
glanced up out of habit, but it didn’t register who the person was.
As I turned the page I saw the stranger step right in front of me. I
peered up past my magazine to see a very familiar looking bat belt
buckle. Meeting the person’s eyes, I jumped.

“Gerard?” I coughed on my spit.

“Babe, let me expl-”

“Babe? No... I... I have to go.” I rose to leave, but he grabbed my
hands and dropped to his knees, pulling me back into the chair.

“You can’t leave. I thought I’d never see you again. Look!... You
see? I’m here for you. I want to get better for you. That’s worth
something.”

“But, I barely know you.”

“What are you talking about. You know everything about me-”

“I didn’t know about HER! You didn’t tell me about her, Gerard!
What’s... what’s going on. What’s happening to me?,” I stood
up and smeared my hand across my brow, “I don’t even know if I want
to believe you.” At this point I realized both the woman at the desk
and who I assumed to be Dr. Whitney were standing and staring at us.



“Oh my God...” I said under my breath. I was so embarrassed.

Gerard got up off his knees and pushed back his hair. His amazing,
amazing hair. I didn’t know what to do and stared at the carpet until
someone said something.

“I didn’t know you were bringing a guest this afternoon, Gerard.” Dr.
Whitney responded breaking the silence.

“No...” Gerard and I replied in unison.

“I’m not...” I stammered

“I think it would be a good idea if you stepped in today, miss.” Dr.
Whitney assured.

“But, I don’t want to intr-,” I glared at Gerard who met my glance as
he looked up from the floor. His eyes melted my insides, even when I
thought they were made of bricks, “Well, okay...”

“This way.” The doctor gestured to enter his office, Gerard followed
me in and we were then joined by Dr. Whitney.

Sitting next to Gerard, I stayed silent, I wasn’t going to say
anything unless I was spoken to.

“So when did you meet each other?” Dr. Whitney started.

Gerard and I just looked at each other.

An hour and a half of unbearable yet enlightening misery later, I
found myself back on the street frantically smoking a cigarette.
Gerard joined me a minute later.

“I’m going to tell you what’s actually going on in my head. Not his
medical chocolate-coated bullshit.” he announced

“What else is there, possibly, to say?” I doubted.

“Come back to my house and I’ll lay it all out for you. Please”

I looked at him suspicoiusly.

“Please.” he repeated.

#1 I had nothing better to do. #2 I really wanted to know him; I
wanted to become close to him. #3 I missed hanging out in his room.

He led me down the stairs and into his room.

“So what? Are we kindred spirits or something?” I asked, smiling at
him, all my anger just fucking flew out his little 6” x 6” window.

It didn’t seem like he heard me because he was pacing back and forth
tossing his belongings around. He was gathering his thoughts. But
then, he stopped, he looked up at me, and smiled. I started to feel
really warm, my cheeks burned. I sat on his bed with my legs crossed.
He pulled up a chair, turned it backwards, and stradled it.

“So, where are we gonna start?” I encouraged.

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s in those bottles in that plastic bucket?” I motioned to my
right without taking my eyes off of him.

He looked over at the bucket, then back at me, and got up and walked
over to the clear plastic bucket.

He picked up a bottle and scratched his head, “Uh...well,” his voiced
cracked. “This one’s Wellbutrin. I never sleep when I’m on it. I’m
paranoid... oh, and I’m always horny as hell.” He raised his eyebrows
while looking down at the bottle in his hand. So did I in
understanding of some of his actions, then something struck me.

“Wait, what do you mean when your on it?”

“Walking around every single, solitary day like a zombie really takes
a toll on you. It’s fucking the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It
fucks up every relationship you’ve ever had... or ever will have,
apparently.” He looked up at me with apologetic eyes.

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could get anything
out we heard a faint cry from upstairs.

“Hey, Gerard, I was cooking some eggs, but then they burned so I decided to make some toast, but then I couldn’t get them out of the toaster and I stuck a fork in to try and pry them out, but then it fucking shocked me!” The sound came closer as he walked down the stairs, “And then, the toast started smoking and the smoke detector went off and I got the little fan mom takes to the beach and was gonna turn it on in the kitchen but then I dropped it and,” Mikey joined us in Gerard’s room and finished his delightful little story while opening the door, “all...the...batteries...fell...out.” he finally huffed out, “Oh...hey.”

“Hi, Mikey.” I laughed.

I looked at Gerard, who looked at Mikey, who looked back at me. Gerard was giving Mikey a “what-have-I-told-you-about-knocking?” and an “I-can’t-believe-you-broke-another-appliance-mom-is-going-to-kill-you” look.

“I think I’m gonna go now...” Mikey stammered.

Mikey turned his head to look at me while being pushed out the door by Gerard. He whispered something to him, but Gerard didn’t respond, just rolled his eyes.

“So where were we?”

“I think we were talking about you.” Gerard changed the subject.

“Uh, no I don’t... okay, fine, then. What do you want to know?”

“Okay... how ‘bout... why were you at the psychiatrist?”

“Isn’t that obvious? You really did a number on my damn head.”

He started laughing.

“I’m flattered...” He said quietly

“I didn’t know which way was up. Me and Frankie have either become really messed up, or closer than ever, and then your letter, and then today... It’s just been an intense couple of weeks.”

Then we were off. We started talking about everything we thought of and never ran out of things to talk about. When I realized it was about seven, I told him I had to go.

“Okay, that’s cool. Are you coming on Saturday?”

“Hmm?” I questioned casually.

“To the show... you know ‘Skylines and Turnstiles,’ we’re performing.”

“Really? Your first show? Of course I’ll come. Duh, I knew about it, you told me before. I can’t believe I forgot. It’s all the ‘Prep’ boys can talk about.”

“I have a surprise for you then.” he alleged mysteriously.

“Oh, no. No more surprises, please.”

“No, you’ll like this surprise, I promise.”

When I got home I was greeted with the smell of pot. Frankie was on the floor playing videogames. I took a seat on the floor with him and took a hit.

“What’s up, chicken butt?” he asked.

“Not much, buddy. You?”

“I’ve never gone up this many levels before. It’s freakin’ awesome.”

“Pretty sweet, Frankie.” I got up and was a little dizzy. Grabbing my bag I went to my room, which also reeked.

“Geez, Frank, have you been smoking all day?” I laughed. I changed into a pair of sweats and Frankie’s Black Flag shirt he’d left about a month ago.

“Uh, yeah,” he giggled, “Goddammit, why won’t you die?! Aaaahhh!”

“Haha. Get ‘em Frankie!”

“Hey, come back in here, I wanna talk to you.”

“You mean you want to try and talk to me? I doubt you remember what you wanted to say by the time I get out there.”

“Haha. You’re funny. You’re just a funny little bunny.”

I came out with my hands on my hips.

“What?” he said

“Nothing. I don’t know.”

“C’mere.” he patted the floor next to him. That reminded me of what Gerard did the night he feel out of a tree. And that reminded me not to do anything stupid again.

I sat on the floor again and he paused his game.

“About last night?” I ask.

“And this morning?” he smirked.

“Ah, geez... Frankie...”

“No, I know, I know. I know we can’t... you know. I just love you and we can leave it at that, babe.”

“Thank you. I love you. And who knew you were so... good.”

“Who knew? I did.”