A Taste of Peppermint

There was a knock on my locked door and judging by the timid sound it had to it I knew it was my brother. That didn’t mean I was going to care though.

“Gerard?” he said shyly and I could picture him leaning his upper body against the door, his head turned to the side inches away from the wooden barrier and his fingertips lightly touching it.

Given I ignored him. I’ll admit I have – had – a childish behavior when angry.

“Gee?” my brother murmured barely audibly and knocked again. I sighed while getting up from where I had been sitting but instead of heading towards the door I started pacing around listening to the continued thumping on my door. Every knock was light as a feather and their sound was like gentle butterflies flapping around inside my head. But I didn’t want butterflies, I wanted clumsy, ugly and bloodsucking bats. Big and horrid ones that could tear my mind apart in the most painful way – and give me what I deserved. With a grunt I stopped and with my back towards the bed I stretched out my arms to the sides and let myself fall freely.

“Are you okay, Gee?” Mikey’s concerned voice came floating from outside my room.

“I’m not okay, I’m not okay, I’m not-” I trailed of murmuring knowing I was speaking too quietly for him to hear me.

“Leave me alone,” I instead said in a loud voice.

“But Gerard,” he protested.

“No, Mikey.”

“Please let me in,” he pleaded and I’m sure his eyes were welling up with tears by then. I never really understood why he would cry for me. Most of the time I was the one who did something wrong. And the worst part was that I never could seem to feel that much guilt. I never felt sorry for what I did.

“Please?” he repeated. I could hear in his voice that he was on the verge of giving up and for some unfathomable reason I got on my feet, strode over to the door and unlocked it. I did not open it however, for reasons I no longer can remember. Instead I walked over to my bed and sunk down on it resting my head in my hands.

Slowly the handle was pushed down and the door opened. Mikey’s head poked in before he stepped inside. It was his way of apologizing for forcing himself upon me. He closed the door but only took a few steps into the room. I didn’t even bother him with one look but could observe him from the corner of my eye. He sifted his weigh from one foot to the other and looked around uncomfortably.

“So,” I muttered only to break the silence which was beginning to become a bit awkward. For a while I didn’t think he was about to reply when he suddenly spook up.

“Everything-was-my-fault-I-told-Frank-that-Ray-would-be-here-but-I-knew-he-was-gonna-go-for-a-run-and
-it’s-all-my-fault-don’t-blame-Frank-he-didn’t-know-he-did-his-best-I’m-sorry,” he rambled so fast that I barely could make out what he said, the words simply tumbled out of his mouth. After he finished he clasped his moth shut, breathing heavily through his nose.

My eyelids fluttered for a second and an unpleasant feeling tugged at my heart. Slowly I lifted my head to look at my little brother. He had pulled his shoulders up and was scraping his feet insecurely. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, to run, hurt myself, be left alone, hug him. I wanted to disappear from the face of the earth. But all I did, all I could do, was to look at him wondering why he persisted in making me seem like a better person than I was.

“Come,” I eventually said and motioned for him to take a seat beside me. He rocked back and forth on his feet for a second before he started walking towards me. With his hands in his pockets he sat down on the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, bowing his head down.

That unpleasant feeling tensed around my heart again, making it ache. I put my arm around my brother’s shoulders pulling him closer.

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” I tried to assure him. “I was being an idiot.”

“But-“

“No, Mikey, no buts. It’s not your fault,” I said then paused for a brief period of time before adding bitterly: ”It’s not even Frank’s fault.”

He finally looked at me but like always he couldn’t actually see me. He saw me through a veil of childish ignorance. To him I would always be close to flawless. I would always be his big brother, his hero. I guess he knew I wasn’t able to live up to that. I think he understood long ago that I was imperfection personified. And yet he tried. Always he would try to make me seem like a better person. And always it made me want to cry. I wasn’t the saint, I never had been. If he wanted to be proud of anyone he should be proud of himself. Because after all he was so much more of a saint than I ever could dream of being.

“Are you gonna tell Frank you’re sorry?” he wondered although he must have known the answer already.

“No,” I said without even a trace of doubt in my voice. He nodded at me as if he accepted it. Accepted how screwed up I was. I wished that he would refuse to put up with my behavior and demand something of me. Try to force me to make an effort instead of loving me unconditionally. And if he couldn’t I wished my friends and band mates would do it, more than they already did. I knew I could become at least decent if I only got a push in the right direction.

People always tell you to be careful with what you wish for. But in this case I’m glad I wasn’t. And I was about to get what I wished for. Not from my band mates, not in the beginning anyway, but from someone I never thought to be the one to teach me the most important lessons of my life. A person who wouldn’t just let me of with a gentle nude in the right direction but one who could kick me there if necessary. Which probably was just what I needed.