Status: Updating while working on rewriting the earlier chapters (and deleting some stuff).
Infinite
Thirty-two
“I wasn’t sure if it really was you, have you changed your hair?” Donna asks, seemingly unaffected by the fact that I was once her son’s girlfriend.
“Er… I- I guess…” I stutter, trying to form a proper sentence. What on earth do I say to this woman? Her son wrecked my life and she wants to have small talk?
“Look Aubrey, I know this is probably a bit strange for you but I’ve thought a lot about you. Are you free right now? Do you want to go for a cup of coffee or something?”
She’s talking fast, almost as if she is just as nervous as I am.
“Uh… Yeah, sure,” I say.
What does she want? I can’t think of a single reason why Gerard’s mom would want to talk to me, but we sit down in a pretty much deserted coffee house a few blocks away and she looks at me almost as if she’s sorry.
“You don’t look like you did when you were with Gerard,” is the first thing she says that is anything but polite small talk. She has placed her shopping bags on the floor next to her chair, and I look at them rather than at her face. “You’re almost a different girl.”
”Why do you say that?”
Donna smiles a little at me, and I feel like a five-year-old in the company of an adult.
“You’re pale, you’re thin, you look like you’ve seen a ghost and like you haven’t slept for weeks. I get the feeling you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m fine,” I say quietly, sipping my coffee.
Donna looks at me for a few seconds. I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t even be here, and I wonder what makes her think she could add anything to my life.
“Aubrey, I’m sorry for the way I treated you. It was childish, but Gerard’s my son and I… I just couldn’t understand why he chose to be with you. A teenager!” she exclaims. “I was so scared that he would get hurt again. And well, you were a fan, after all…”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I don’t know what to say. Donna is apparently feeling quite guilty, and I can’t really say “oh, it’s okay, I forgive you”. Perhaps I should. But for all I know she had something to do with Gerard breaking up with me, given how much see seemed to hate me the last time we met.
“I wasn’t surprised when you broke up,” Donna says, looking out the window.
No shit, I want to say. I wouldn’t be surprised if you felt relieved, too.
I guess she senses what I’m thinking, or maybe she sees it on my face, because she hurriedly continues:
“Oh, you know I didn’t really warm to you. I thought you were just another gold digger.” She sighs, looking down at her cup of coffee and for the first time, I see some kind of resemblance to Gerard and Mikey in her features. “But then Frank told me how you were doing… and that he had broken up… the way he had. I couldn’t believe he’d do that to you.”
To my surprise, I feel a lump starting to form in my throat. I try to keep my voice even when I say:
“Why did Frank tell you that?”
I can’t really picture Frank as someone who would talk behind Gerard’s back.
“Gerard was a mess when he came home, and he wouldn’t talk about it so I had to ask the band. Frank didn’t tell me much but he mentioned you weren’t doing very good either,” Donna says.
I look away. I guess it really wasn’t Frank’s place to tell Gerard’s mother, but can’t bring myself to be mad at him.
“I wasn’t,” I say. “I was a mess. I’m still a mess.”
I don’t know what suddenly makes me trust her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at me, as if all this is her fault. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t told anyone about how horrible I’m really feeling and she has stepped into my life on a day I needed someone the most. Maybe it’s just because she’s my only solid link to Gerard.
“I know, honey. I just wish there was something I could do.”
There is nothing she can do, but she abandons her plans for going shopping for Christmas presents and spends her afternoon with me.
The snowing has stopped and Central Park looks like something from a movie, with the people playing in the snow and the children sledding with their parents. It’s beautiful, and the fact that Donna is walking next to me is making this situation seem even more unreal.
“He went to one of our concerts a while ago,” I say. ”Gerard, I mean.”
His mother nods, and I wonder if any of the Christmas presents in her bags are meant for him.
"Well, I don’t think he was ever able to move on completely.”
I turn my head to look at her. Why is she lying?
“Of course he’s moved on,” I say. “He broke up with me, it’s not like I hurt him.”
“What do you think he was doing there, then?” Donna asks.
“Oh, I don’t know. But it couldn’t have been to see me, that’s for sure,” I say. “I mean, it’s been five months. People move on, I should have moved on. I’m so pathetic.”
Donna stops, causing me to stop too and turn to look at her. She is looking at me sternly.
“Now you listen to me, Aubrey. You are far from pathetic. Being in love with someone who doesn’t love you is not the worst thing that has ever happened. And I understand that you’re depressed and that Gerard hurt you, but you’re doing yourself no good by blaming yourself.” Her voice and face softens a bit as she continues: “You know, some people take a while to heal.”
Oh, fuck. I’m going to cry. This blond woman who is so very much related to the only guy I ever loved is making me cry.
“But I don’t want to feel like this,” I say, the words coming out all choked since I’m fighting my tears. “It’s killing me. I don’t know what to do with this, it’s all so fucked up and I’m never gonna be alright, Mrs Way, I feel like it’s all my fault."
My words are slurred and fast and incoherent, but Donna Way just lets me cry. The Christmas shopping bags are on the ground, momentarily forgotten.
-
To: Aubrey Walker
From: Frank Iero
Date: 2007-18-12
Subject: RE:RE:RE: none
There’s no way you’re spending Christmas on your own. I know you don’t want to see Gerard, but could you please please please please consider spending Christmas with us? We’re at the Ways this year.
But I really think you guys need to see each other. You can’t go on like this forever. I know it’s probably gonna hurt like hell to try and be just friends, but no one says you even have to talk to each other - we could keep him locked in his room… ;)
Seriously, think about it. We’d love for you to come. I talked to Donna before I sent this and she’s in on it, too. I thought you said she didn’t like you?
LOVE + HUGS from Frank (and Mikey and Bob who wanted to know who I was writing to)
“Er… I- I guess…” I stutter, trying to form a proper sentence. What on earth do I say to this woman? Her son wrecked my life and she wants to have small talk?
“Look Aubrey, I know this is probably a bit strange for you but I’ve thought a lot about you. Are you free right now? Do you want to go for a cup of coffee or something?”
She’s talking fast, almost as if she is just as nervous as I am.
“Uh… Yeah, sure,” I say.
What does she want? I can’t think of a single reason why Gerard’s mom would want to talk to me, but we sit down in a pretty much deserted coffee house a few blocks away and she looks at me almost as if she’s sorry.
“You don’t look like you did when you were with Gerard,” is the first thing she says that is anything but polite small talk. She has placed her shopping bags on the floor next to her chair, and I look at them rather than at her face. “You’re almost a different girl.”
”Why do you say that?”
Donna smiles a little at me, and I feel like a five-year-old in the company of an adult.
“You’re pale, you’re thin, you look like you’ve seen a ghost and like you haven’t slept for weeks. I get the feeling you’re not feeling well.”
“I’m fine,” I say quietly, sipping my coffee.
Donna looks at me for a few seconds. I don’t know what to do. I shouldn’t even be here, and I wonder what makes her think she could add anything to my life.
“Aubrey, I’m sorry for the way I treated you. It was childish, but Gerard’s my son and I… I just couldn’t understand why he chose to be with you. A teenager!” she exclaims. “I was so scared that he would get hurt again. And well, you were a fan, after all…”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, and I don’t know what to say. Donna is apparently feeling quite guilty, and I can’t really say “oh, it’s okay, I forgive you”. Perhaps I should. But for all I know she had something to do with Gerard breaking up with me, given how much see seemed to hate me the last time we met.
“I wasn’t surprised when you broke up,” Donna says, looking out the window.
No shit, I want to say. I wouldn’t be surprised if you felt relieved, too.
I guess she senses what I’m thinking, or maybe she sees it on my face, because she hurriedly continues:
“Oh, you know I didn’t really warm to you. I thought you were just another gold digger.” She sighs, looking down at her cup of coffee and for the first time, I see some kind of resemblance to Gerard and Mikey in her features. “But then Frank told me how you were doing… and that he had broken up… the way he had. I couldn’t believe he’d do that to you.”
To my surprise, I feel a lump starting to form in my throat. I try to keep my voice even when I say:
“Why did Frank tell you that?”
I can’t really picture Frank as someone who would talk behind Gerard’s back.
“Gerard was a mess when he came home, and he wouldn’t talk about it so I had to ask the band. Frank didn’t tell me much but he mentioned you weren’t doing very good either,” Donna says.
I look away. I guess it really wasn’t Frank’s place to tell Gerard’s mother, but can’t bring myself to be mad at him.
“I wasn’t,” I say. “I was a mess. I’m still a mess.”
I don’t know what suddenly makes me trust her. Maybe it’s the way she looks at me, as if all this is her fault. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t told anyone about how horrible I’m really feeling and she has stepped into my life on a day I needed someone the most. Maybe it’s just because she’s my only solid link to Gerard.
“I know, honey. I just wish there was something I could do.”
There is nothing she can do, but she abandons her plans for going shopping for Christmas presents and spends her afternoon with me.
The snowing has stopped and Central Park looks like something from a movie, with the people playing in the snow and the children sledding with their parents. It’s beautiful, and the fact that Donna is walking next to me is making this situation seem even more unreal.
“He went to one of our concerts a while ago,” I say. ”Gerard, I mean.”
His mother nods, and I wonder if any of the Christmas presents in her bags are meant for him.
"Well, I don’t think he was ever able to move on completely.”
I turn my head to look at her. Why is she lying?
“Of course he’s moved on,” I say. “He broke up with me, it’s not like I hurt him.”
“What do you think he was doing there, then?” Donna asks.
“Oh, I don’t know. But it couldn’t have been to see me, that’s for sure,” I say. “I mean, it’s been five months. People move on, I should have moved on. I’m so pathetic.”
Donna stops, causing me to stop too and turn to look at her. She is looking at me sternly.
“Now you listen to me, Aubrey. You are far from pathetic. Being in love with someone who doesn’t love you is not the worst thing that has ever happened. And I understand that you’re depressed and that Gerard hurt you, but you’re doing yourself no good by blaming yourself.” Her voice and face softens a bit as she continues: “You know, some people take a while to heal.”
Oh, fuck. I’m going to cry. This blond woman who is so very much related to the only guy I ever loved is making me cry.
“But I don’t want to feel like this,” I say, the words coming out all choked since I’m fighting my tears. “It’s killing me. I don’t know what to do with this, it’s all so fucked up and I’m never gonna be alright, Mrs Way, I feel like it’s all my fault."
My words are slurred and fast and incoherent, but Donna Way just lets me cry. The Christmas shopping bags are on the ground, momentarily forgotten.
-
To: Aubrey Walker
From: Frank Iero
Date: 2007-18-12
Subject: RE:RE:RE: none
There’s no way you’re spending Christmas on your own. I know you don’t want to see Gerard, but could you please please please please consider spending Christmas with us? We’re at the Ways this year.
But I really think you guys need to see each other. You can’t go on like this forever. I know it’s probably gonna hurt like hell to try and be just friends, but no one says you even have to talk to each other - we could keep him locked in his room… ;)
Seriously, think about it. We’d love for you to come. I talked to Donna before I sent this and she’s in on it, too. I thought you said she didn’t like you?
LOVE + HUGS from Frank (and Mikey and Bob who wanted to know who I was writing to)