Postcards From No Man's Land
Masquerade
Take me somewhere, Frank, Mikey said, Please, just take me any place that will set me free.
Frank understood. He understood the desire to be free, and he understood how Mikey was imprisoned. He knew of the shackles that bound Mikey to this earth, and the boy who resided beneath it. He knew well the chains of love.
So he drove. He drove with the windows of the car down, even though the air outside was frosty and chilled. He enjoyed the flush that flooded Mikey's cheeks when the cool air met his warm skin.
I brought something, Mikey said, But it's a surprise.
Frank knew that this wasn't actually Mikey speaking. He had seen the flask that the younger Way--the only Way--had slipped into the pocket of Gerard's olive pea coat. Mikey rarely took it off these days. Frank knew that the flask was half-empty, but he also knew that Mikey had never gone for a drive with him before his brother's death.
Oh yeah? What kind of surprise?
Mikey just grinned a secret, black and introverted. Dangerous. You'll have to be a good boy and wait, he said.
Frank knew that he liked it when Mikey flirted with him. He didn't really mind that it might be the alcohol talking. No, he didn't mind when the boy's cheeks were flushed petal-pink and he was flirting in the night.
They went out dancing at this one club Frank had heard of. He'd never been there before, but some chick had told him it was hot spot. A real chill place. He figured a place at both ends of the extremes had to be good, and dancing might just set them free.
It was called Masquerade, and it was bright like the inside of a flower. So bright you could get lost in it.
They got lost in it.
At the Masquerade, everyone wore masks. Masks of colors and feathers, glitter and flowers that smelled like bliss. At the Masquerade, everyone was someone else. You became someone else's forbidden fruit for the night.
You want a drink? Frank asked. His mask was suffocating him. His throat was parched as paper and bone-dry.
I'm fine, Mikey said. Frank bought him a Coca Cola anyway.
You want your surprise? Mikey asked as he poured the Whiskey from his flask into their Cokes.
Frank already had a buzz. Like an electrical current pumping his brain. A mask on reality. I want it, he said.
Mikey was dancing close, so close. His lean hips ground against Frank's, their legs intertwined like vines. Strobe lights flashed, dizzying up their vision. Mikey's breath was liquor and cinnamon on Frank's cheek, hot and revealing. His whisper was a secret in Frank's ear.
I'm just like my dead brother, Mikey whispered as he pulled two pure white pills from his pocket, Surprise.
Magic trick, cheap trick.
Frank saw him place the snow-white pill upon his serpent's tongue, heard the hiss of Gerard's cries. And there, beneath the Tree of Knowledge and the suffocating plastic of his Masquerade, he slipped the second pill into his own mouth, eager to taste Mikey's freedom.
The Garden of Eden faded as the strobe lights created a nauseating tumble of lightening and warning flashes. The serpent stole his tongue, evil, pressing his lean body to Frank's.
Frank said, Let's you and I be innocent again in the night. We'll have wings and we'll fly.
And Mikey said, I'm too dirty to be innocent, but I'll play your game.
Beneath the masks, Frank knew they were still the same boys who had a curfew and secrets that they could tell no one. Excuses that were visible and invisible. Skeletons alive in their closets, bone and dry rot. But feathers and sparkles and plastic on strings made them pure for the night, as pure as the drug that melted on their tongues. Innocent for the night.
Mikey's mouth connected with Frank's in a sloppy collision of tongues and teeth and Whiskey lullabies. Frank pushed aside their masks, and he felt Mikey's hot tears against his cheeks. He tasted the shame on his tongue. He tasted Gerard on his lips.
Frank knew, oh he knew. He knew that Mikey wore yet another mask.
Frank understood. He understood the desire to be free, and he understood how Mikey was imprisoned. He knew of the shackles that bound Mikey to this earth, and the boy who resided beneath it. He knew well the chains of love.
So he drove. He drove with the windows of the car down, even though the air outside was frosty and chilled. He enjoyed the flush that flooded Mikey's cheeks when the cool air met his warm skin.
I brought something, Mikey said, But it's a surprise.
Frank knew that this wasn't actually Mikey speaking. He had seen the flask that the younger Way--the only Way--had slipped into the pocket of Gerard's olive pea coat. Mikey rarely took it off these days. Frank knew that the flask was half-empty, but he also knew that Mikey had never gone for a drive with him before his brother's death.
Oh yeah? What kind of surprise?
Mikey just grinned a secret, black and introverted. Dangerous. You'll have to be a good boy and wait, he said.
Frank knew that he liked it when Mikey flirted with him. He didn't really mind that it might be the alcohol talking. No, he didn't mind when the boy's cheeks were flushed petal-pink and he was flirting in the night.
They went out dancing at this one club Frank had heard of. He'd never been there before, but some chick had told him it was hot spot. A real chill place. He figured a place at both ends of the extremes had to be good, and dancing might just set them free.
It was called Masquerade, and it was bright like the inside of a flower. So bright you could get lost in it.
They got lost in it.
At the Masquerade, everyone wore masks. Masks of colors and feathers, glitter and flowers that smelled like bliss. At the Masquerade, everyone was someone else. You became someone else's forbidden fruit for the night.
You want a drink? Frank asked. His mask was suffocating him. His throat was parched as paper and bone-dry.
I'm fine, Mikey said. Frank bought him a Coca Cola anyway.
You want your surprise? Mikey asked as he poured the Whiskey from his flask into their Cokes.
Frank already had a buzz. Like an electrical current pumping his brain. A mask on reality. I want it, he said.
Mikey was dancing close, so close. His lean hips ground against Frank's, their legs intertwined like vines. Strobe lights flashed, dizzying up their vision. Mikey's breath was liquor and cinnamon on Frank's cheek, hot and revealing. His whisper was a secret in Frank's ear.
I'm just like my dead brother, Mikey whispered as he pulled two pure white pills from his pocket, Surprise.
Magic trick, cheap trick.
Frank saw him place the snow-white pill upon his serpent's tongue, heard the hiss of Gerard's cries. And there, beneath the Tree of Knowledge and the suffocating plastic of his Masquerade, he slipped the second pill into his own mouth, eager to taste Mikey's freedom.
The Garden of Eden faded as the strobe lights created a nauseating tumble of lightening and warning flashes. The serpent stole his tongue, evil, pressing his lean body to Frank's.
Frank said, Let's you and I be innocent again in the night. We'll have wings and we'll fly.
And Mikey said, I'm too dirty to be innocent, but I'll play your game.
Beneath the masks, Frank knew they were still the same boys who had a curfew and secrets that they could tell no one. Excuses that were visible and invisible. Skeletons alive in their closets, bone and dry rot. But feathers and sparkles and plastic on strings made them pure for the night, as pure as the drug that melted on their tongues. Innocent for the night.
Mikey's mouth connected with Frank's in a sloppy collision of tongues and teeth and Whiskey lullabies. Frank pushed aside their masks, and he felt Mikey's hot tears against his cheeks. He tasted the shame on his tongue. He tasted Gerard on his lips.
Frank knew, oh he knew. He knew that Mikey wore yet another mask.