Infinite

It’s strange how some parts of your life seem like a dream when you look at them in retrospect. How it all seems unreal even though you know you were really there – you might even have photos of yourself in a situation you only remember vaguely. And some parts of your life seem unreal even when you’re still in them.

That’s how I feel about touring with MCR. Like I’m in a constant flow of events that I have no control over, it’s like somebody else is in control of my body. Except on stage. The real Aubrey shines through there and I’m pouring all of myself into the performance, to a level which makes the crowd go even wilder. It’s an exhilarating experience and every time I get off the stage I feel like collapsing from sheer exhaustion. I feel like I could sleep for days, but unfortunately touring doesn’t really offer that kind of luxury. It’s the odd six hours of sleep (if you’re lucky) and then the not very comfortable experience of sleeping on the bus. I still wear long sleeved shirts and everyone is probably wondering why, but I don’t want to care. I can feel Frank’s concerned gaze on me sometimes but I assure him everything’s fine. I love touring. I’m just tired from performing and it’s worth it, because I love being on stage.

I don’t know if anybody else notices. They probably don’t and I’m grateful for that, because I really don’t need people worrying about me. They shouldn’t be. I’m a grown-up, capable of handling my own miseries. And I’m not even miserable – I’m just nothing. In an air-tight bubble. I keep telling myself that I should feel sad about a lot of things. I should definitely feel sad when Gerard starts flirting with one of our on-tour photographers, but I don’t. I tell myself that I’m probably going mad after all. Either that or my mind has been so stuffed with emotions that it has ultimately shut itself off.

It’s like watching the world from behind a glass wall.

-

”Hey.”

Gerard slides into the seat in front of me at the diner we’ve stopped at on our way from Birmingham, Alabama to Memphis, Tennessee. It’s been a month since we joined the tour and it’s almost over already, and then Gerard will be out of my everyday life once again. The others are out somewhere, they’ll probably be able to leave soon.

”Hi.”

”The coffee any good?”

”You can have mine.”

I still don’t drink coffee but I’m trying to learn. I hand him my still warm cup and he takes it, sips it and makes a face.

”Ew.”

”Yep.”

We haven’t talked much during the tour and we’ve barely spent any time alone with each other. I’ve gotten to know Mikey better and Frank and I have had our usual easygoing relationship, and Ray and I have had some guitar jam sessions even though he’s way better than I’ll ever be. I’ve had some late night tea sessions with Bob (who really knows how to properly brew some Earl Grey) and of course I’ve hung out with Infinity. I’m incredibly happy to have recovered some of what was lost during my months of depression.

But being with Gerard will probably never feel easy again. The feeling of things being unreal envelops me even more as I sit there, now and then catching a glimpse of Gerard taking another sip from my coffee cup while looking out the window. We don’t say anything for a few minutes, and just as I’m about to stand up and leave, he speaks.

”You know I know why you never wear short sleeves, right?”

A blow to the back of my head. I think I forget how to breathe for a few seconds before I regain some of my composure.

”I’m sorry?”

Gerard meets my gaze. It looks like he’s sorry about something.

”I saw the scars. Last week when you were changing after the show.”

I close my mouth, suddenly feeling a bit like a gaping fish. I don’t know what to say, but finally I settle for:

”I didn’t know you were looking.”

Oh, great. The worst reply ever. Gerard sighs.

”Of course I look. I always look. Despite what you may think, I still care about you, Aubrey.”

”I know you care.”

”Good.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds.

”When?” he asks, his gaze shifting to my covered wrists and back to my eyes again.

”You know when”, I say. ”Right after you left me.”

I don’t feel anything as I say it and I can hear my own voice like it’s someone else’s – indifferent, like it’s telling an unimportant story. Gerard closes his eyes, as if he’s in pain. When he opens them again, he says:

”And now...?”

”It was a phase”, I say. ”I found other ways.”

”To hurt yourself?”

”To try to get over you.”

”Oh. And did you?”

He makes it sound like it’s a casual question, did you find your keys? Of all the other times we could have talked about this, he chooses this.

Of course I didn’t! I’m still in love with you, dickhead!

I shrug. Gerard puts down the coffee cup.

”Oh”, he says again.

I have wondered, during this past month, what kind of girl I would have been if Gerard hadn’t left me. And what kind of person I am to make a breakup change me so thoroughly – like Gerard was the only important thing in my life. I could have met other guys. I could have lived a life and instead I spent these months, almost a year really, moping. All because of this one guy who was my entire world for a short time.

Pathetic? In love? I just know I still can’t imagine my life without him, no matter how bad he has behaved towards me.

”I’m only nineteen”, I say just as Gerard is about to speak again. ”I thought I was so grown up when we met, you know? But you were right, I was too young. I’m still too young.”

And in some grotesque, masochistic way, it feels nice to hear myself say it. Gerard looks a bit like he’s about to cry.

”And I’m still in love with you. Of course I am. I’m just a teenager.”

”Will you please stop degrading yourself?”

”Why?”

”Because what you’re saying isn’t...”

”I love you and I hate you, Gerard. You’re still acting as if this is something that we’ll get over. It’s like you don’t realize I put my whole life into what we had, and you thought you could end it just like that.”

His fists are clenching on the table separating us. He looks at me like he can’t believe what I’ve just told him, and to be honest, I can’t really believe it myself. I can’t believe I find myself telling him everything. He’s been a stranger to me for so long.

”Why didn’t you tell me?”

”I thought you knew. I thought I deserved what I got.”

He covers his face with his hands for a few seconds, taking a few long breaths, and still isn’t looking at me when he says:

”God, Aubrey, you should have told me all of this.”

”Well, you didn’t really give me a chance, did you?”

My voice is still devoid of any emotions, except from the anger starting to seep through. And even though my anger has always brought tears in the past, my eyes are completely dry now.

”I hoped for so long, Gerard”, I say. ”People kept telling me we were meant for each other. Even your mother said you hadn’t moved on yet when I was certain you had, so I kept my hopes up. And it turned me into this.... this person I don’t even know.”

Gerard is about to speak, and I find the cracks in my facade getting larger. His hazel eyes. His shaggy black hair I haven’t run my fingers through in so long. And here I am, telling him things I’ve kept close to me all this time.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, accompanied by an anonymous ring tone I chose right after Gerard left and I couldn’t bear hearing his voice every time it rang. I reflexively reach into my pocket to pull the phone out. The number is unknown.

”Don’t pick up. Not now”, Gerard says.

I wouldn’t pick it up under any other circumstances, but there is something about the tone of the ringing this time. Of course I know it sounds exactly like it did the last time it rang – but I still pick it up. Instinct, perhaps.

”Aubrey Walker speaking.”

There is a short pause before the person on the other end speaks, and Gerard is looking at me pleadingly. I look away.

”Aubrey? My name is Ethan Grayson, I’m not sure if you remember me...”

It’s a New Jersey accent and I recognize the voice vaguely. The image of a balding man, no more than thirty-five, appears in my mind.

”I had English with your son in high school”, I blurt, suddenly remembering the way Liam Grayson used to tell people his dad was with the police. Like he was really proud of having an actual father with an actual job, compared to me and Red.

”Yes, I think you... That’s not actually why I’m calling, but I’m glad you remember.”

”Is there something wrong?”

Ethan Grayson sighs heavily. I look out the window at Frank and Karl who are sitting on the ground, enjoying the shadow of one of the tour buses. Frank is laughing.

”Aubrey, there is no easy way to say this, but there’s been an accident. A fire at your mother’s house.”

There is something about this moment I will remember for the rest of my life. The way Gerard’s expression changes from impatient to worried, and the way the sun through the big windows hits his face. The uncomfortable vinyl seats and the smell of fried food from the kitchen.

”Your mom... she didn’t make it. Asphyxia.”

My hands are cold.

”Aubrey, what is it?”

Gerard’s voice is painfully clear through the fog of what Ethan Grayson is telling me.

”What about Jamie and Elliott?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper. Ethan Grayson is quiet for a few sickening seconds.

”I think you’d better come home.”