Infinite

The New York episode leaves me some slight bruising on my left forearm where Rick grabbed me. The man hates me even more now and mom hasn’t spoken to me since, but that doesn’t really matter – what does matter, though, is that I’m not allowed to babysit Jamie and Elliott. Now they're left with Joan or random babysitters when Mom and Rick are away, and I only get to see them in the mornings and at night before their bedtime.

Another person who doesn’t speak to me unless it’s absolutely necessary is Red. Karl and Noel are their normal selves, playing stupid pranks on each other and me, but between me and Red it’s like a wall of ice that’s not expected to melt anytime soon. I have nothing to apologize for but Red seems to think so, and Karl keeps telling me to talk to him about it but I don’t really have a problem him anymore – it’s just him still thinking I’m a groupie.

Let’s just say my visits to the Baker’s house become less frequent and only has to do with band practice.

In the middle of April (about a month after our Manhattan gig) at eight fifteen on a Saturday morning, I wake up to the sound of in the middle of a gun fight… I haven’t changed the signal for almost a month, it’s a personal record. Still with my face buried in the pillow, I reach over to the night stand and manage to grab the phone almost instantly, despite my non-seeing state.

“’Ello?” I say in a sleepy voice. There is a rustling noise and people laughing, and then:

“Aubrey?”

“No, it’s just her cell phone’s answering person, since Aubrey herself is still asleep.”

Whoever is calling laughs in my ear.

“Sarcastic even in her sleep,” he says.

“Uh… who is this?” I ask, although the second I say it I realize where I’ve heard that voice before. I turn around so I’m not face down into the pillow anymore.

“The most good-looking guy you’ll ever meet!” he says, earning more laughter in the background and someone, probably Frank, says: “You wish!”

“Oh my God, is this Johnny Depp?!” I exclaim, although still hoarse from sleep.

“Ouch.”

“That’s what you get from calling too early in the morning,” I say, smiling at no one in particular. “Um… where are you?”

“Denmark.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah… hey, listen, I’m sorry for not calling sooner.”

Hell, I’m happy he called at all, that the last words he said to me meant something. But I guess I should have expected them to.

“Uh… it’s okay,” I say. Stupid.

“So… what have you been up to?” he asks. “How’s the band going?”

Deciding not to burden him with Red’s behavior, I tell him about all the gigs we have, the people asking for autographs (still getting used to that), the lack of demos to be sold (we've run out of them) and the record company guy who talked to us last week.

“Just don’t let him get you into things you don’t want to,” Gerard says when I’ve finished. “You should be picky about record labels because trust me, there probably are a lot more people who would like to sign you.”

“Really?” I say. “Well… thanks for the advise.”

”No problemos,” he says. “So, anything special happening today?”

“Uh, no, well... I'm just gonna avoid being in the house, I think I’m going shopping.”

“You're avoiding the house?"

Yes, because talking to Gerard about how I still live at home and still am in high school was just what I wanted. "Yeah, mom's been a little tense since I took Jamie with me to New York,” I say, now sitting up, throwing the covers aside and reaching for my sweatpants. “I was supposed to babysit her.”

“But you did babysit her.”

“Yeah, but babysitting in a noisy club is not the best idea ever, to be honest… But, you know, I've been taking care of her since she was born. It's not like I would let anything happen." The noise around Gerard has quieted down a bit.

“Of course not,” he says. “You know, we’re getting back to the states in a few days, we should hang out.”

I smile again and my insides do some kind of happy dance.

Fifteen minutes later, I’ve just stepped out of the shower and am toweling my hair. I need to dye it again, I realize as I look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. My natural, dirty blonde color is starting to show at the roots and I hate it. Maybe Noel can do it for me this time.

Mom and Rick are at work, as always, and they have already dropped off Jamie and Elliott at Joan’s. Jamie hates it there; every time I see her she gives me a spiteful look and asks why she has to go there when I’m better at babysitting than Joan.

I never know what to say. I’m leaving home as soon as I graduate, at least I’m planning to, and then who knows when I’ll see her again? It’s better not to think about it, but every time she asks it feels like a stab through the heart.

I leave without having breakfast, and walk to the bus stop with my headphones on, listening to another of Karl’s masterpieces that he sent yesterday. Walking creates lyrics, I’ve come to realize after writing songs since I was thirteen. Even if it’s just a five-minute walk to the bus stop. It doesn’t always work, but today I’m lucky – as soon as I sit down on the bus, I dig out a pen and my note pad from the depths of my backpack and start scribbling on what may be the beginnings of another song.

Shopping by yourself isn’t much fun – no one to tell you what clothes to go for or having coffee with in between shopping sessions – but today, I need my space. I’ve been around the band for so much lately that it feels like I’ve forgotten what other people are like. I spend half an hour window shopping before having to get coffee (because, well, coffee), and then get to what I actually came here for. I’ve just started to think about turning my hair purple when I’m (thankfully) interrupted by my cell phone telling me I have a new message.

soundcheck in 5 min… what r u up 2?

I quickly type my reply.

buying hairdye, what should I get?

It takes a minute for his answer to travel from Denmark to New Jersey.

frank thinks pink, g (aka me) thinks u’d look gr8 in anything :) going on stage now, xoxo /f & g