Postcards From No Man's Land
Tangible Purples
Frank was in-tune with his senses. Not that he was some big sensitive softy or anything, just that he noticed things more than most people did. He was an observer and an auditor of the invisible sort. It was simple. If you looked, you saw, if you listened, you heard.
He could always tell there was something more. It was subtle, hidden under layers of skin and blood and secrets. Yes, it was a secret. A secret that was maybe better left buried.
He could hear it in their voices when they talked to each other. He could have seen it even if he was blind, if he just listened up. He heard it when Gerard slipped up and accidentally called Mikey "sugar" in the car when Gerard gave Frank and Mikey a lift home from school one day. He heard the friction of their skin when they passed too close to each other in the carpeted hall between their bedrooms and just barely collided. He heard Mikey's voice, soft and quiet and rarely used, come alive with raw energy that buzzed and crackled when he talked to Gerard. Whatever was between them was almost tangible to Frank.
He heard things that went unspoken.
Frank felt things too. He could feel things when Gerard stared at Mikey from way across the room. He could feel Mikey's pretty blush. But he never once got jealous. There was something pure and indestructible there, something he wouldn't dare touch. If Frank could give what he felt between them a color, it would be the deepest purple, and velvety to the touch.
There was a spirituality in the air too. That first week after Gerard crashed, Frank felt more attuned to the brothers than ever before. He felt the darkness that existed in Mikey. He felt its age, something that had been building up since childhood. Sometimes he was almost positive that he could hear them crying. Mikey's tears were of quiet despair, Gerard's the blackest anger at himself. It wasn't as frightening as he thought it would be hearing a dead man's ragged cries.
He went to their house, and he saw the framed photos of two brothers with their arms around each other and smiles like Eternity. He looked at Mikey and saw the drab eyes, the dark circles beneath his lashes. He saw pale skin, loss of will, and a rapid aging process that would be enough to kill him. He saw photographs of Gerard, and he saw the real-life image of the boy he loved.
Sometimes, Frank couldn't tell which one was dead.
He could always tell there was something more. It was subtle, hidden under layers of skin and blood and secrets. Yes, it was a secret. A secret that was maybe better left buried.
He could hear it in their voices when they talked to each other. He could have seen it even if he was blind, if he just listened up. He heard it when Gerard slipped up and accidentally called Mikey "sugar" in the car when Gerard gave Frank and Mikey a lift home from school one day. He heard the friction of their skin when they passed too close to each other in the carpeted hall between their bedrooms and just barely collided. He heard Mikey's voice, soft and quiet and rarely used, come alive with raw energy that buzzed and crackled when he talked to Gerard. Whatever was between them was almost tangible to Frank.
He heard things that went unspoken.
Frank felt things too. He could feel things when Gerard stared at Mikey from way across the room. He could feel Mikey's pretty blush. But he never once got jealous. There was something pure and indestructible there, something he wouldn't dare touch. If Frank could give what he felt between them a color, it would be the deepest purple, and velvety to the touch.
There was a spirituality in the air too. That first week after Gerard crashed, Frank felt more attuned to the brothers than ever before. He felt the darkness that existed in Mikey. He felt its age, something that had been building up since childhood. Sometimes he was almost positive that he could hear them crying. Mikey's tears were of quiet despair, Gerard's the blackest anger at himself. It wasn't as frightening as he thought it would be hearing a dead man's ragged cries.
He went to their house, and he saw the framed photos of two brothers with their arms around each other and smiles like Eternity. He looked at Mikey and saw the drab eyes, the dark circles beneath his lashes. He saw pale skin, loss of will, and a rapid aging process that would be enough to kill him. He saw photographs of Gerard, and he saw the real-life image of the boy he loved.
Sometimes, Frank couldn't tell which one was dead.