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

What Doesn't Kill You...

... Stings Like A Bitch.

“How has it only been three minutes?!” I cursed the clock in my kitchen about a week after the guys left, “It’s been at least six fucking months.”

I was waiting for Venetian Silicone. These days it seemed like I was always waiting for Venetian Silicone. I tried to fill all my time with work so I wouldn’t have time to dwell on wanting to fuck Gerard.

The doorbell rang and I went to answer it, “I really don’t think you guys could be on time if your lives depended on it.” I voiced.

“Look, just cuz you haven’t gotten laid for a while, doesn’t mean you get to bitch.” Julian informed me.

“Isn’t that exactly what it means? Don’t listen to him Kat, bitch ALL you want. And if you’re ever up for a late night booty call, I’m totally down, okay?” Tim promised wrapping his arm over my shoulders.

“Thanks for lookin’ out for me, Tim.” I said as I patted him on the back with awkward gratitude.

“Let’s do this shit! I’ve got to leave at seven.” Katy said excitedly, but anxiously.

“Oooooh, Kaaaty. Got to get home to the new rich boyfriend and his sweet new digs.” Tim taunted Katy and stole the drum sticks she was twirling in her hand.

She ran after him, but he stopped her by holding her back by her forehead with one hand.

“Katy! You didn’t tell me! He’s rich, too?” I cried with excitement.

“He’s not that rich.” Katy defended.

“His parents bought him a Mercedes for his sixteenth birthday!”

“What the fuck? That’s fucking rich.” I laughed out, “But tell me more. What’s his name?”

“Uuughh. I don’t want to talk about it! Can we just get our shit together?”

“Fine, fine, but don’t think I won’t try later.” I told her.

She rolled her eyes, but soon smiled.

We worked on some shit for a couple hours until the phone rang. It was Frank and Gerard so I made everyone leave.

“Hey Mrs. Way.” Frank said giggling uncontrollably.

“Oh, a new nickname, huh?” I asked.

“Yep. Like it?”

“Sure.” I guessed.

“Why don’t we make it your PERMANENT name.” Gerard suggested and I could tell he was smiling.

He scared me to death, because I couldn’t tell what he was getting at.

“Haha, funny boys-” I joked.

“No, really.” He stated firmly.

“Fine, my permanent nickname is Mrs. Way-”

“No, stupid, you’re not getting it. Let me make you Mrs. Way.” Gerard elaborated.

“Wha-”

“Marry me.”

“Okay, baby!” I cooed in a googily voice, playing along with his game, “Hooray for us!”

“Hey, I’m fucking serious.”

“Shut up.” I brushed his statement off.

“No shit. Marry me.”

“Wait, wait, wait a minute. You did NOT just propose to me over the phone,” I said with a sarcastic, annoyed, in disbelief grin, “While we’re on two different continents?!”

“Yes, I did.”

“He totally did.”

“Frank, get off the phone.” I instructed.

“Uh-oh, Gerard’s in trouble...” Frank sang

I waited until I heard the click of Frank’s receiver and I said something.

“Why would you propose, babe?”

“Because I love you.”

“And I love you, but I don’t think that’s our next step.”

“Oh, c’mon. You in a really short white dress-”

“Gerard-”

“Me in a leather jacket-”

“I don’t think-”

“We could do it on the Jersey shore... at midnight!-”

“Babe, stop-”

“On New Years!-”

“Babe! NO.”

“Why not?”

“Because.. becau-” I tripped over my words.

“Why? I can’t think of a reason, what’s your-”

“I’m SCARED! I’m scared Gerard. Okay?!”

“Of me?”

“No.. I don’t know... No, not of you... of me. I don’t fucking know. I just like things the way they are now. Don’t you?”

“Of course. But I want... you. I want us to be official.”

“We are official. We don’t need a piece of paper-” Then a thought cut off my words, “You don’t trust me.”

There was a pause.

‘What was going through his mind in that pause.’ I wondered.

“That’s not fucking it at all, babe! Is it a crime to want to be with you forever?!” He tried to justify himself.

“We will be! And when our lives calm the fuck down we can get married or buy a house or have five babies or rob liquor stores if we want! Gerard, I’m only twenty three fucking years old!”

“So?! My mom was that age when-” He stopped short, remembering the divorce.

“Just not now, Gerard, okay?”

“Right.” He plainly stated.

“One day, for sure.”

“Right.”

With that last cold statement he hung up, and I can only imagine stormed off to take a walk. Alone.

I hated when he did that.

I slummed by pitiful, vanquished body to my room and flopped down on the bed to cry. As I did, the headboard slammed against the wall and knocked off his painting.

“Oh, shit!” I sobbed.

I picked the painting up and part of the frame broke off and ripped part of the picture.

“OH, FUCK ME!” I screamed through tears.

I carefully set the painting against my closet and returned to my bed to complete my swan song.

I tossed and turned all night until I was awakened by a phone call. It was 2:57 in the morning as I reached for the phone, my dreaded enemy of the moment.

“Yeah?” I quietly slurred.

“Sweetheart? I’m sorry it’s so late-”

It was Gerard’s mom, “No, it’s fine.. How are you?” I said, shaking off the sleep in my voice.

“Well, I’m fine. But, Gerard’s grandma... she’s been taken into Intensive Care.”

I gasped and put my hand to my mouth in surprise, “Oh my God, is everything alright?”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next morning I felt all fuzzy and light-headed, which was the feeling I got before I came down with the flu.

A cherry on top of my good luck sundae.

I picked up the receiver of my phone at work. Ring, ring, ring, ring.

‘Oh, c’mon Brian. Pick up the damn phone!’

“Yellow?” He slowly addressed.

“Hey, it’s me. What up?”

“Oh, uh, hey. Nothing much...”

It sounded as if he were caught off guard by talking to me, and was looking to someone for what to say.

‘Great...’I thought, “Cool, is Gerard busy?”

“Um, nah- I mean, wait, yeah he is. He’s, um, at a store. But-”

“Hello, princess!” Frank cheerily stole the conversation that was going no where.

“Hello, Sirs...”

“So am I best man?!”

“Ah, shit. Gerard didn’t say anything?”

“What? No wedding?”

“Ssshhh! Don’t say it out loud! What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?! How could you turn down Gerard?”

“I didn’t... I just post-poned... for a little while.”

“So that’s why he’s been all wacked out...”

“Oh, Frankie don’t tell me that... Is he okay?”

“I guess, just sort of bummed I think. I thought he was a little too happy about singing ‘Honey’ last night...”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I don’t know... he just added a whole lot more ‘Boo Hoo, bitch’s and for ‘Lady of Sorrows’ he was all like, ‘If anyone’s ever fucked you up in the head, this song is about killing them’. You know shit like that.”

I leaned back in my chair, letting me head fall over the head rest with my hand on my temples, “Oh, wow. This is not good...”

“Oh, shit, and I hate to mention it, but the Olivia bitch is back.”

“WHAT?!”

“... Yeah I don’t know what we’re gonna do about that whole little conundrum.”

“Please tell me you are joking, Frankie!”

“Jeez, I’m not that mean! I would never joke about something like that.”

“Well I am gonna give him a piece of my mind-”

“You go! You scare him into submission!”

“Shut up Frankie. You know, I don’t even remember why I called- Oh no, I remembered.”

“Well, what was it?- Oh hey look, Gerard’s back.”

“No, no Frankie, don’t tell him it’s me. Pretend you’re talking to Jamia.” I sputtered out.

“Hey, G, girlfriend’s on the phone.” I heard Brian ruin everything.

“Let me talk to her.” I heard Gerard say to Frank.

I could pretty much picture him reach for the phone and open and close his hand like he’s grasping something, in his sulking kind of way he does stuff after we’ve had a fight.

‘Oh, shit, here it goes.’ I braced myself.

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?"

“I’m fine.”

“Look, I’m really sorry if I-” I wasn’t sure what I did to him, “I’m just really sorry. I get freaked out easily. Change is good, you’re always trying to convince me and it only ever works out for the best, and I know that, and-” There I went speed-talking out of my anxiousness.

“Babe? It’s okay. I’m sorry too. Last night was stupid. Not stupid, let’s say, but badly orchestrated. I promise you next time I do it, we’ll be on the same continent. The same room, even.” He laughed.

“Promise?” I asked with a mile-wide smile.

“I promise.”

“Cool. And one more thing, I just, I wanted to call and say,” I got choked up, “I wanted to say...” I broke out in a sweat, how was I gonna say this over the fucking phone?, “It’s just that...”

“What, babe?”

“I love you, darlin’. I miss you like all Hell.”

I couldn’t tell him, and I cursed myself for being weak.

I couldn’t say his grandmother, the woman who taught him how to sing, dance, laugh, cry, court girls, absolutely everything, was in the hospital with a fifty percent chance of living.

I could barely think it.