Saints of Youth

Frank has spent about a few hours around the shop, watching as customers came in and out, staring in awe of all the designs they had gotten. Leesha had written down the address to the church she was attending recently. It was Mikey’s idea, going to church and all; Leesha said it was unlike him to miss a day. So apparently Frank was her last hope at divine intervention to renew her husband.

The day of the ceremony, Frank had gotten a few lectures about what to say and what not to say; and knowing that any rolling of the eyes would result in no ice cream after words. Frank had to roll his eyes at that, Leesha was always treating him like a kid, no wonder Mikey felt all the joy being sucked out of his life.

After about a half hour of Frank trying to memorize when to stand, when to sit, and hold in the urge to just wait outside, Leesha told him it was time to pray for Mikey. She got on her knees, and beside her Frank had got down on his too.

While Leesha chose to pray aloud to herself, Frank had always prayed in his head so he clasped his hands together and it went a little something like this:

Uh, hey Lord, it’s Frank Iero here.
I know you probably don’t remember me much, but you see my friend Leesha here is freakin’ out.
Her husband is being a dick and won’t leave the house.
Do you think you can do something to ya know, help the kid?
I know I haven’t been the best Catholic in the world lately, but do something for him?
Anything will do, and hey, could you possibly throw in somethin’ for me?
A miracle would be pretty rad.
Amen, or something like that, bye.

Leesha had stopped whispering when Frank lifted his head, her eyes were swollen with tears and she was quaking.

“Let’s just get the hell out of here.”

And she brushed past everyone in her way, ignoring some friends who had tried to ask her where Mikey had been. Frank gladly followed her out, catching the way the stain glass reflected burning red light on the walls. It made him feel queasy, so he ran to catch up with Leesha.

“Leesha, really I don’t think you need to worry about Mikey, he’ll bounce back.”

She spun around to face him, “No Frank, no he will not just bounce back, you haven’t fucking seen him at all.” She snapped.

“Well, can I then? I’m pretty sure if you just talk to him you’ll see there’s nothing to worry about. He’s fine, he’s Mikey.”

“That’s what I was going to do.” Every word she spat reeked with malevolence and desperation.

“Get in the car.” And Frank did so obediently, fearing the way veins were popping out on Leesha’s head. He’d hate to say it, but his good friend was actually scarring him.

The ride to Leesha and Mikey’s house was, at the least, unbearable. The tension was held in the air tight space as she zipped across the road. Frank shivered repeatedly when thinking about the way he could feel the stiff air around Leesha.

Normally, Frank would just turn on the radio and not give a fuck what mood his friends were in. But as the blur of the streets went by faster and faster, he felt for his own life, he should remain silent and still. It wasn’t too long to reach their house, and the whole neighborhood had this dull effect to it.

The normally day glow yellow of the house had died down to a muddy color. The way the shingles kept creeping open and then shutting made the house appear sad. And although it felt normal, Frank could see why Leesha was at wits end, everything you were seeing appeared off center. The normal youthful a glow had aged.

“No wonder why people around here are depressed, you guys really need some fuckin’ sunlight and a good college football team.” Frank had tried to provide some relief to the situation at hand, but failed.

The wind’s whisper had responded with a powerful gust, “Let’s just go inside.”

Inside the house was none different, it still held photos from high school and the couple’s wedding. The lights were dimmed and Frank could almost make out the tiniest echo of a T.V. a couple rooms down the hall.

“Mikes? I’m back from church, I brought Frank too, he missed you.” Leesha had tensely called out to her husband.

The walk down the hall seemed ominous to say the least. The glow from the television got brighter, and Frank was met with the blank eyes of Mikey. Frank sighed in relief, Mikey looked normal; he didn’t appear any different from the semi social boy he once knew.

“Hey Frank, haven’t see you in a long while.” Mikey spoke softly, acknowledging his wife and Frank with a small thrust of his head in their direct.

“Leesha baby, I’m hungry do you think you could whip up something fast?” He asked with sincerity in his voice and Leesha just left the room nodding.

“Hey Mikes, I really think we should talk.” Frank had tried to start the conversation, almost feeling obligated seeing as how timid Leesha was around Mikey.

He sighed and his shoulders sagged. “I knew you’d bring it up, and I’m sort of glad you did.”
“Why?” Frank questioned, raising his brow.

“Because Frank, Leesha would send both of us to the nearest mental clinic before you could say help me.” Mikey had a “duh” look on his face and had placed his hands on his hips.

“Well, spill the fuckin’ beans dude, your wife has been acting like The Exorcist over here all damn day.” Frank had sighed exasperated.

“Alright,” Mikey had stared into Frank’s eyes and held onto Frank’s arm.

“I’m being plagued by an Angel.”

Frank gave Mikey a slap on his back and told him to stop fucking around. “Dude, I’m serious, you tell me what’s really going on.”

Mikey stood, wobbly on his knees. “I’m not fucking lying; the only fucking reason I can’t leave this damned house is because of fucking Saint goddamn Way!”

“Saint Way? What the fuck? There’s a Saint with your last name?” Frank had rolled his eyes as it crossed his mind that his friend could be losing his marbles.

“Okay, I know that sounds weird, but it’s true! He’s here right now.” Mikey was getting frustrated, now practically stomping his feet. Correction, Mikey Way had already lost his marbles.

“Oh really, and where is this Saint Way? And what is he the Saint of? Your Mom?” Frank had snorted and then he felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder.

“Actually I’m known as the Saint of Youth, but my friends like to call me Gerard.”