Teach Me How To Live Again

Funeral

I wake up to an unfamiliar beeping. Alarm clock, my head says. The funeral is at ten. The funeral. We're burying my little brother...Well, he's not so little anymore-he is-was-26. Awwww, Mikey, why did you have to go and try to talk to that guy? Why did he have to be such an asshole and stab you?

You sound stupid, stop saying things like that. Mikey wouldn't like it, the little voice says. My conscience.

"Gerard! You need to get up!" my mom calls up the stairs.

"I'm up, I'm up!" I call back. Then it hits me. My mother almost never yelled at me to get up, she just used to send Mikey up to force me out of bed. I sigh and roll off the side of my bed, hitting the floor with a dull thump. I quickly shower.

"Do you want breakfast?" My mom asks as I walk out of the bathroom. She's putting my black suit on my bed, freshly ironed and ready to wear. I wish it wasn't.

"No...I'm really not hungry. Thanks though," I attempt to smile at her, but I think I might just be showing her my teeth.

"I'm going to go get dressed, we have to be at the church in an hour and a half," she says, leaving the room as she speaks. I look and scowl at the suit. I notice the red tie my mom put by it. She always knows...

Ten minutes later I've forced the stupid thing on and head downstairs in search of coffee. I practically inhale my first cup and am pouring my second when the doorbell rings. "Coming!" I call, setting the pot down. I unlock the deadbolt and open the door. Frankie and Ryan stand there. "Hey guys, come on in." Ryan looks so sad and...Guilty. I wish I could make her see it wasn't her fault...

"How are you?" Frankie asks as we walk into the living room. I sit down on the couch and Frankie sits down on the other end, leaving Ryan to sit between us. She hesitates, but sits down.

"I'm as good as it's going to get at this point," I reply. "How are you guys?"

"Pretty much the same," Frankie says. I notice that Ryan's hands are shaking.

"Gerard! Could you come up here, please?" Mom calls down the stairs.

"Yeah! Be right there!" I call back. "Be right back, guys." I take the stairs two at a time, terrified that something is wrong with her. "What is it?!" I ask, rushing into her bedroom.

"Good Lord, Gee, nothing's wrong! I just need you to clasp my necklace, I can't do it," she says, making a face at me.

"Oh...Well...I can do that." I fix the clasp. "You are the most beautiful, wonderful mother in the world," I tell her. I hug her shoulders from behind.

"And you are the best son a mother could ask for," she says through tears in her eyes. "Who's downstairs?" She obviously doesn't want me to see her cry more than I have to.

"Frankie and Ryan."

"How is Ryan?"

"She won't look at me. We sat down and I could see her hands shaking. I wish I could make her see that it wasn't her fault..."

"When are you going to tell that girl how you feel about her?" my mother wheels around to give me the disapproving-mom-look.

"Mooom, is now really the time to think about that?" I ask, trying to avoid any attempt at her trying to convince me to tell Ryan that I love her.

"I think Michael would've wanted you to. Well, you know he wanted you to tell her. You're not going to have forever, Gerard. And if you're waiting for the 'perfect moment,' it isn't going to come. You've got to take the best moment you can get," she says, sticking a finger in my face.

"Okay. I'll think about it. Happy?"

"For the moment, yes. Now, go talk to them, I need to finish getting ready." I leave the room and shut the door behind me. I re-enter the living room.

"Sorry. I'm back now."

"It's fine," Ryan mumbles. She looks awful. We all sit in silence for another half an hour.

"Well, are we ready to leave?" Mom sighs, walking into the room.

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On one side of me is my mother, and on her other side, ironically enough, is my father. And they're holding hands. I suppose they can get along for the moment. To my right is Ryan. I think she is crying harder than anyone here. Even harder than Alicia, Mikey's wife. I reach over and take her hand and squeeze it. She squeezes back and laces her fingers through mine, but cries even harder. This is going to be a long service... I think as my own tears begin to fall.