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

The movie got over and I started flipping through the channels when I heard someone banging on the door. It scared me and I jumped and dropped the remote on my knee.

“Fuck!”

I got up to answer the door, a little bit worried. I unlocked, but didn’t unchain the door and peaked through. It was Gerard. He looked up at me, in one hand, he held a half open bag, and his other was in a fist.

“Open the door.” He demanded through clenched teeth.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, unchaining the door.

He violently rushed past me and headed straight to the kitchen. He threw down his bag and some paints fell out. I watched him open the liquor cabinet and start to shuffle bottles around.

“What happened, honey?” I asked, meekly.

“It’s just...” He looked at me after bringing a bottle of vodka down from the shelf, “I hate doctors. And parents.”

He poured himself a drink, but I pulled the glass out of his reach. He looked at me in protest.

“Wait. Tell me what happened.”

He turned away and suddenly slammed his hand down on to the counter and proceeded to punch the wall, all in one swift motion.

“Stop!” I demanded, frightened. “Please! Please tell me what happened.”

He was facing the wall, panting, I could see how tense his body was.

I walked up behind him and hugged his waist, then rubbed his sides. I felt him relax. Stretching on to my tip toes, I kissed his neck. He turned around to face me and I hugged him around his neck. He sat me on the counter, leaned on the counter with his hands on either side of me, and looked at me. His eyes were red from his attempt to not cry. I put my hand on his face and kissed his forehead.

“It’s okay. We’re together now. And you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. I get it. I’ve been there.” I promised him.

“No. I want to tell you. No secrets, no lies, they’ve never gotten me anywhere.”

He backed away from me sitting on the counter and faced the wall.

“Is Frank asleep?” He asked.

“Practically in a coma.” I assured him.

He took a deep breath, but still wasn’t facing me, “Okay... I went to my appointment, and was there for like... an hour, and then my dad showed up,” He turned around and shot me a glance in my eyes, “He’s never done that, he’s never SUPPOSED to do that. But he did. First of all he doesn’t agree with me going to a therapist, and second, what fucking advice, could he possibly give me? He’s a fuckin’ failure. Divorce?! An auto mechanic?! What the fuck?...”

He trailed off and was clenching and unclenching his fists. I stood up and went to take his hand, but he flinched away.

“No... Don’t... I can’t... touch you right now. I’m sorry...”

His eyes were sad and tired, I understood them. I resumed my seat on the counter. He couldn’t touch me, but all I wanted to do was hold him.

“So, my dad starts debating with Dr. Whitney, and talking about some really personal shit for me. Stuff I’m not ready to deal with yet. And, I just felt like I was drowning, like I was begin choked. It just got too intense, way too fast, and it seemed like they we ganging up on me. I had to leave. And I never want to go back. Not back home, not back to the doctor...”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at him patiently, waiting for him to make a move.

“I just have to be with you. That’s all I know. And if I never learn anything for the rest of my life, I’ll be content in knowing I love you and you love me. Right?”

“Of course. Always. Until the very end, Gerard. I mean it.” I was nodding with tears in my eyes.

He walked up to me and hugged me. Hard. I was crying. It was all I could do. I was just so full of emotion, it had to come out somehow, and it came out through tears. I could barely breath, only in part to him compressing me in his arms.

After a while, my tears ceased. He pulled back.

“I don’t ever want to make you cry. Not ever. For anything.”

“But... these are happy tears.”

“Well, I guess they’re okay. But whenever you cry, someone's leaving my sight bloody.” He gave me a soft smile and wiped a tear from under my eye.



“Okay....,” I smiled back at him, “This reminds me when you climbed that stupid tree...”

“Oh, yeah... Wow, I’m a jackass.”

“Yeah, but you’re a cute jackass.... What do you want to do now?” I was playing with his hand, and watching our fingers lace, then unlace.

“I have no idea.”

“Frankie’s mom gets home soon, so I’ll probably head home.”

“Okay, then that’s what we’ll do.”

Frank’s mom came home a few hours later and I explained that his EB virus was acting up again. Before I left I woke up Frankie, and Gerard and I helped him into his room. After whispering some advice about Jamia, I bid Frankie adieu.

On the drive home, nothing was on the radio, so I turned to an oldies station. A Mamas and the Papas song was on. It reminded me of my mom, because they were her favorite band. I played it on the way to the airport when I left for New Jersey. My heavy sigh, must have shown Gerard I had something weighing on my mind.

“I love this song.” He said.

“Yeah, me too. It reminds me of my mom.”

“ ‘Dream about the times to come,
when I won’t have to leave alone,
about the times that I won’t have to say...
I’m leavin’ on a jet plane...’ “

He sang so well. I wanted to join him, but I might have cried, and I didn’t want him to see me cry again.

We got home and, for yet another day together, we were emotionally exhausted. I fell asleep in his arms thinking about all the shit I was gonna have to do at work the next day.

At work that week I had to do the most paper work I ever thought possible. Every day blurred into the next, my only salvation being Gerard at home. We were the saddest, most pitiful waifs you’ve ever seen. Things began to picked up speed soon after that, and it hasn’t slowed down since.