Status: Updating while working on rewriting the earlier chapters (and deleting some stuff).
Infinite
Thirty-four
“Aubrey!”
I’ve probably been standing there for a few minutes trying to calm down, when Frank appears from the room Gerard just entered. He gives me a long hug and I try to convey some happy holiday spirit, but he sees right through it. Before he has any time to comment, Jamia appears behind him and he introduces us.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” he hurriedly says as Jamia wants him to get back to the party. “Try to have some fun. Everyone’s here!”
Oh, good. That has to mean that I have absolutely no social life, since I don’t know anyone of the “everyone” in the house beside the band and Donna. Bob approaches me after a while, when I’ve been sitting in a corner sipping my drink for several minutes. Gerard is across the room, and I can see in his face even from a distance that the discussion he’s having with Mikey is forced, that his eyes constantly wander over to where I’m sitting. Maybe I should leave.
“Are you alright, A?” Bob says, and I shake my head as I try to smile at him, as if there is something funny about the situation.
“No, I’m fucking not. I don’t know why I even bothered showing up. He obviously isn’t interested in having any kind of contact with me.”
Bob grimaces and pulls out a chair to sit down next to me.
“I don’t think that’s the case,” he says, carefully, as if threading on egg shells. “I know he misses you."
I give Bob a disbelieving look.
“People keep saying that, but everything Gerard’s done shows the complete opposite.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bob sighs and looks at Gerard for a brief second. “But he’s been different this fall. If there wasn’t anything between the two of you anymore, he should have been able to move on. But he’s been like, I don’t know… distant. Like there’s something on his mind.”
“Maybe he thinks I hurt him. Like I made him happy and it’s my fault he had to break up with me.”
Bob arches an eyebrow.
“I do hope you realize how stupid that sounds.”
I look at my hands clutching my now empty glass.
“Yeah. I know. But it’s so hard to come to any conclusion when I’ve never heard his side of it.”
“So talk to him,” Bob says, almost pleadingly. This situation is a bit strange, because Bob and I never had this kind of relationship. We know each other, but on tour we never had a serious conversation. To my surprise I realize that it doesn’t feel the least bit awkward.
“I guess I should,” I say, surprising myself even more.
But even though I sound sure of myself, I get nauseous even thinking about confronting Gerard.
I’ve probably been standing there for a few minutes trying to calm down, when Frank appears from the room Gerard just entered. He gives me a long hug and I try to convey some happy holiday spirit, but he sees right through it. Before he has any time to comment, Jamia appears behind him and he introduces us.
“We’ll talk later, okay?” he hurriedly says as Jamia wants him to get back to the party. “Try to have some fun. Everyone’s here!”
Oh, good. That has to mean that I have absolutely no social life, since I don’t know anyone of the “everyone” in the house beside the band and Donna. Bob approaches me after a while, when I’ve been sitting in a corner sipping my drink for several minutes. Gerard is across the room, and I can see in his face even from a distance that the discussion he’s having with Mikey is forced, that his eyes constantly wander over to where I’m sitting. Maybe I should leave.
“Are you alright, A?” Bob says, and I shake my head as I try to smile at him, as if there is something funny about the situation.
“No, I’m fucking not. I don’t know why I even bothered showing up. He obviously isn’t interested in having any kind of contact with me.”
Bob grimaces and pulls out a chair to sit down next to me.
“I don’t think that’s the case,” he says, carefully, as if threading on egg shells. “I know he misses you."
I give Bob a disbelieving look.
“People keep saying that, but everything Gerard’s done shows the complete opposite.”
“Yeah, I know,” Bob sighs and looks at Gerard for a brief second. “But he’s been different this fall. If there wasn’t anything between the two of you anymore, he should have been able to move on. But he’s been like, I don’t know… distant. Like there’s something on his mind.”
“Maybe he thinks I hurt him. Like I made him happy and it’s my fault he had to break up with me.”
Bob arches an eyebrow.
“I do hope you realize how stupid that sounds.”
I look at my hands clutching my now empty glass.
“Yeah. I know. But it’s so hard to come to any conclusion when I’ve never heard his side of it.”
“So talk to him,” Bob says, almost pleadingly. This situation is a bit strange, because Bob and I never had this kind of relationship. We know each other, but on tour we never had a serious conversation. To my surprise I realize that it doesn’t feel the least bit awkward.
“I guess I should,” I say, surprising myself even more.
But even though I sound sure of myself, I get nauseous even thinking about confronting Gerard.