I See You Lying Next To Me

Going over to the gallery window I looked out into the dark night, the rain droplets running down the window but I had to adjust my eyes as all I could see was my reflection but after squinting a little and getting closer to the window I could see nothing, nothing at all apart from the empty street and wet pavement. I sighed but was quite convinced I had seen a flash of blonde hair, very blonde hair, white blonde almost, blonder than mine even used to be.

I remembered Liz’s words from earlier. “He’s blonde.”

Yeah and I’m stupid, my mind is working over time because it’s the middle of the night and what the fuck would Gerard be doing outside the gallery window now, he’s probably sound asleep somewhere, somewhere may be close by. He could be with someone, who knew?

Turning away from the window I wrapped my gown around myself then noticed a pure white envelope on the doormat of the gallery.

I bent to pick up the letter and turned it over recognising the writing immediately. It was Bobs, Bob Bryers, the drummer with My Chemical Romance and written on the front was a name.

Liz

I frowned wondering why on earth Bob would be writing to Liz but went and put the envelope in the drawer of the desk by the counter where I knew Liz would find it in the morning then I climbed the stairs once more, yawning, got into bed, my thoughts overrun by white blonde hair.

**

And so we became a couple. We just fell into it really and I couldn’t get enough of him.

At school I only saw him at lunch where I’d find him propped up against a wall waiting for me, biting his nails because he couldn’t have a cigarette, his bag slung across him.

Sometimes he saw me coming but I liked it best when I snuck up on him and watched that familiar grin appear on his face. That’s when I knew he still liked me. The day he doesn’t grin widely when he sees me, that’s when its over I used to think to myself but he never did stop.

Ever.

We were one of those touchy-feely couples and probably some people found us annoying. Gerard nearly always had his arm across my shoulders or his long fingers would be laced through mine as we walked along, chatting to each other or glancing and pointing at something that had taken our eye.

We kissed in the street but we didn’t care because while we kissed the world didn’t exist to us, we were in our own little world.

I loved the weekends because we had art class. We’d started arriving to the art class together as he’d call for me on the way and afterwards the four of us would go to Russell’s for coffee and cheesecake then in the afternoon we’d go shopping, just Gerard and I and we’d look in record stores and comic shops but we rarely bought anything as more often than not we just didn’t have any money.

What money Gerard had was mainly spent on cigarettes and I only had a small amount of money from Mel for doing some household chores, the rest of my money I couldn’t have. The money that my father had left me was put into a trust fund. Half of it to be given to me when I was 21, the rest when I was 26. Dad had decided that I would be sensible enough to spend it wisely by the time I was 21.

Little did he know what the future would hold and what my money would be spent on.

Gerard and I had been going out for a month and had grown so close I kind of felt that I knew everything about him, he was so open and always shared with me what he felt about things and he loved his family completely. He’d do anything for them and couldn’t imagine not having them around. He found it hard that I didn’t have parents and he did have this weird thing about death, which I found odd but could sort of understand. He actually said he’d die for his family. He was especially close to his little brother Mikey, unusually for two brothers they never fought and Gerard always made time for him took time to listen, even when he was in a hurry he’d always make time for Mikey.

That was Gerard to the core, he was totally unselfish.

This was why I couldn’t understand why Mel hated him. Yeah, she hated him and didn’t care who knew about it. She knew we were going out together and that I liked him a lot but kept saying that he wasn’t right for me and that I could do better.

What did she know? There was no better than Gerard as far as I was concerned.

One morning I overhead a conversation that her and Ted were having.

“I don’t like her being with him Ted, he’s a no-hoper,” I overheard as I was outside their bedroom door minding my own business.

“Have you told her this?” asked Ted. I hated Ted and I detested listening to his droning, moaning voice.

“Well I think she knows that I’m not keen on him,” she said.

“Listen don’t say anything else to her, the more you push at her about him you’re just going to push them together. Let it run its course and it will be over before you know it and she’ll see what he is really like.”

But I knew what he was really like and he was wonderful, he was fine by me and there was no way that they would split us up.

We were a couple.

In fact, I couldn’t imagine ever not being with him.

His parents were great, I liked them as much as I liked Gerard, they were kind, welcoming and fun and his grandmother Elena and I really connected. I loved sitting with her listening to her tales, looking at all the pictures that she had drawn and painted and photographs of when she was a singer and dancer in the old days. When I looked at these photographs I was right, she had been very beautiful. She was of Italian descent and had the most shiny glossy long black hair I’d ever seen, dark eyes with thick black eyelashes and marvellous olive skin that glowed. We got along so well. She was so proud of her grandsons and kept saying that they had hidden talents. She often said to Gerard in front of me ‘Kitty is a lovely girl Gerard, don’t you mess things up and let her get away now.”

Gerard and I just laughed at her when she said this, we were just so happy as we were.

My own grandmother was called Helen and I vaguely remember her when I was younger and Elena said that she could be a kind of surrogate grandmother to me and if I wanted I could call her Helena, a combination of her name and my own grandmothers. I was the only one that called her this and I knew Gerard loved it that we got on.

It was the beginning of 1994, we were 16 years old almost 17 really and we had each other. We had a few friends, I had Liz and Gerard had a friend called Matt that I had yet to meet and we had our art.

We went to the movies often; just the two of us together and I sat and watched Gerard’s horror movies while I got him to sit through the romantic ones that I enjoyed. We always half-heartedly complained about each other’s choices but it was all in jest because I enjoyed his movies like I knew he enjoyed watching mine. That was all we needed.

Those were the best days really when we had no money.

But we had each other.

Yes, we were 16 and had a lot of alone time together. The kissing had progressed, we got more and more intimate and often on a Sunday morning we’d lay together on my bed after Mel and Ted had gone to Ted’s mothers. This was our time, we’d just lay there, kissing for ages, touching a little then wanting to touch a little bit more.

My body literally ached for him when his fingers roamed my body, clutching my breasts through my t-shirt, his fingers probing up underneath the t-shirt, the feel of those fingers making my skin tingle with desire.

One particular day as his fingers roamed underneath my top I decided for the first time in front of him that I wanted to take my t-shirt off so I grabbed the bottom of it and pulled it over my head, my face flushing slightly watching his face as he lay there looking up at me.

He was grinning widely, his face slightly flushed too. It felt so right and I smiled back.

Leaning over him I kissed him deeply, pressing my bra covered breasts against his chest and letting my tongue roam his mouth while holding his head in both my hands, hoping he’d get the message.

He did, because against my leg I could feel he was aroused and he pushed his hardness against my thigh. His hands were grasping at my back, his long warm fingers caressing me and then I felt them fiddling around trying to undo the clasp of my bra. He’d succeeded because suddenly it pinged open and I felt that familiar loose sensation, as my breasts broke free of their confines, grabbing the bra away from my body, I flung it off into some direction or other, as my breathing becoming slightly faster.

Topless now, Gerard started kissing me suddenly and urgently, his arousal still pressing at my leg. He gently took my hand in his and laid it onto his bulge causing a butterfly sensation to course through my stomach. I could feel the firmness of him through his rough jeans as I moved my hand slightly up and down it causing Gerard to groan gently.

Feeling the urge to lay naked against him and hooking my hands under his t-shirt I lifted it up and over his head flinging that off in the direction of the bra. His skin felt so soft as I ran my hands over his torso then gently lowered myself onto him. We were touching; bare chest against bare chest and it was the best feeling ever I thought as I sighed, my breath slightly catching in my throat.

I’d wanted to do this for ages, lay with him, both of us topless.

He ran his fingers up and down my spine as I lay there my skin glowing at his touch causing my breath to catch again as my fingers caressed his chest, travelling them up over his nipple and along his shoulder, his skin soft, velvety and warm. Leaning up I kissed his collar bone, gently pecked at his Adams apple then up and under his slightly stubbled chin, until I finally found that wonderful mouth that I couldn’t get enough of, and gave him little nipping kisses across his lips, then slipped my tongue inside to let him know that I wanted him.

“Oh Kitten,” he sighed against my swollen lips as he pulled my hair free of its ponytail letting my hair cascade across my shoulders, his fingers raking through it and massaging my scalp.

Before I knew it, he’d shifted underneath me and had flipped me onto my back kissing me deeply as I had done to him.

I desperately wanted to feel his hands, to feel him touching my skin, to caress and stroke me. I was burning inside, aching for him as his fingers began to do their thing.

“Kitten,” he said, “are you OK with this?” he simply asked.

“Of course, I am, can’t you tell,” I said to him.

Then we burst out laughing, enjoying each other so much as he undid my belt, unzipped my jeans and pulled them down over my hips and legs, past my bright red lacy thong and my spotty black and red socks. He whipped my socks off in a flash and planted a wet kiss on my big toe, tickling me as he kissed all around my foot and up my calf towards my thigh, real high up, so high up I gasped, again loudly.

He sat up quickly unbuckling his belt, pulling of his jeans and boxers and then he looked down at me, just looked at me with his sparkly hazel eyes before he took me in his arms and he began to make love to me.

My very first time.

Leaning forward he kissed me and I opened my eyes to meet his, sparkling away at me, beautiful eyes, never more beautiful than that moment and I wanted him desperately, I was ready

“Please Gerard,” I said to him as I lay back and arched my back towards him letting him know I was ready. Then he was there and I threw my head back and bit my lip as it hurt very slightly, ever so slightly but what followed soon after as he moved within me overtook my body was like a wave, a wave washing over me and through me, taking over my body then crashing down on the beach leaving me breathless but I was still aware of Gerard who spoke.

“Ugh… Kitten… I love you,” he said as he came, his head dropping onto my shoulder and kissing me there, grabbing at my hand and linking his fingers through mine, all these things at once.

He loves me I thought and I love him too.

Gerard always said that when he came, always, always the same words, “Kitten, I love you,” at the moment of his climax right up until the night before we split.

He always said those words.

**

Gerard leant against a tree in Central Park and pulled his black beanie hat lower over his head. The night air was chilly and he shivered as he looked over at K’s Gallery watching the shadow of the woman that he’d been with for so long and hadn’t quite forgotten. Why should he forget? He didn’t want to forget.

He watched Kitty as she bent to the door picking up the letter that he’d just posted through it. He hadn’t realised she’d been in the gallery when he’d posted it and she’d scared him so he’d sloped off across the road to hide behind a huge tree but then he’d felt awful and hoped he hadn’t scared her.

That was the last thing he’d wanted.

So he just stood here under the tree that had become familiar to him over the past few days as he’d watched the gallery and watch Kitty coming and going.

He’d noticed the gallery at the beginning of the week. It jumped out at him as he lay back in his seat of the tour bus just lazily glancing out at shop windows as they flew past him.

It had to be hers; it was too much of a coincidence. K’s gallery, it was what Kitten had wanted, a gallery called K’s.

He couldn’t settle once he’d got to the hotel, and had told the guys he was going for a walk and headed off in the direction of central park where the gallery was. Smoking as he walked he could see the sign up ahead. A white sign with the words K’s gallery in silver and embedded in the letter K was a tiny black cat.

It was definitely hers.

It was early evening when he’d got to the gallery that first night and it was closed but he wouldn’t have gone in even if it had been open.

He wasn’t sure if he could face her. He couldn’t face her yet but he wanted to see her.

Just to see her again would be enough for him.

Then in the window he saw a painting that proved once and for all that this was Kitty’s gallery. It was a painting in her style, which he recognised immediately. She’d always drawn flowers and here in the window was a picture of white lilies.

Definitely her style.

Walking away from the gallery that night he’d lit up another cigarette and went to stand over in the park under a tree with a good view of the gallery and had sat there for a good hour just watching. He watched her leave and then decided he would go in, not realising that Liz worked there.

She hadn’t changed, pretty fun Liz who’d been such a good friend to Kitty, and who’d also shared so much time with him and all the guys together back in those old days when they’d first started out.

He’d had a look around the gallery and asked Liz whether or not she was still teaching as she was in the gallery and she’d told him that she worked in Kitty's gallery during the school holidays as the other lady that worked there had children and had the holidays off, it worked well for them all.

Then he’d asked about Kitty and she’d said she was well but he hadn’t stayed long, just wanted to see if she still had it.

The oriental picture.

The last thing he had expected was to bump into the bitch Mel. They’d exchanged a polite hi as he left the shop then crossed the road to stand under the tree, lighting up a cigarette to wait.

Then he saw her.

Arriving back from a trip to some suppliers by the look of the bags she was carrying, she took him aback, she’d died her once very blonde hair chocolate brown and it suited her. She looked good, smart and yes, she was still beautiful.

But she always had been beautiful even at the end when she’d been driven away in that car, the last time he’d seen her, her huge blue eyes, like pools they were full of unfallen tears.

He’d never forget the way she looked back then and it had hurt him ever since but now, she looked fantastic and he realised that she must be better off without him and he was stupid thinking that they could get back what they once had but he was glad that he’d been to the gallery to drop the envelope in the door, still not quite sure that Bob’s idea was a good one, but he was content because he’d seen the oriental picture.

She’d kept it and by keeping it meant that she still thought of him, well he hoped she did.