I See Your Face in Everything

I stared down at the dark figure. It couldn’t be possible. Could it? If it was, then why couldn’t I remember? Had this been what he had meant? Was this his reason for being so strange and guarded of his answers?

Racing down the stairs I clutched the papers in my hand shouting for my Mom. This was impossible, it just had to be. His craziness was now rubbing off on me and my mind had finally cracked.

“Mom!” I shouted again only to come to a halt when I was met with her distraught face.

“What’s wrong?” panic clear in her voice.

I took a deep breath looking down at the slightly crumpled papers. The drawings from my childhood staring back up at me.

“Who is this?”

Holding them up for her to see, her eyes immediately widened, face paling instantly as she looked at me.

“Why would you lie to me?”

Sighing she pinched the bridge of her nose and turned towards the kitchen. Following her to the table she sat across from me, staring at the drawings one last time before looking up at me.

“When you were about eight months old you started to... to act odd. You would fall into these dazes, no matter what I would do you were always fixed on things that weren’t there. At night you would always watch your window... and we could never get you to sleep. We had mentioned it to a Doctor, but she had assured us that it was normal. But it never felt normal Frank, it never did.

You see it continued as you grew older. Your Father or I would come to check on you at nights and find you sitting on the floor, laughing and reaching out to absolutely nothing. We would try to put you to bed only you would get so fussy. Again we went to the Doctor, but she said there was nothing wrong.

You were a quiet child until you were three. You would always talk about this older boy who would visit you. Said that he would keep you company at night, tell you stories and sing to you. He’s all you would talk about sweet heart. The Doctor said that he was merely an imaginary friend, that when you grew older he would fade away. Only he never did.

This... he began to consume you Frank. Your world revolved around him and by that point it wasn’t healthy. We would tell you he wasn’t real and you would be so angry with us. We ended up sending you to a therapist. After enough sessions when you wouldn’t be convinced that he didn’t exist, blocking him as a memory was brought up as a solution.

Your Father and I thought long on it. We knew it wasn’t right to have your memories of him locked away... but we wanted you to have a normal childhood. So we had it done, we hid all evidence that he had existed and you never brought him up again.

When we went through the divorce, I was worried. I feared that the stress and new lifestyle of your Father not being around would draw him back out again. Thankfully it didn’t... until now that is.”

I didn’t know what to say as I concentrated on the floor. My own parents had practically labeled me a nut case and had made me forget all about him.

“Its been a long time since I’ve seen these... he was quiet the character sweetheart,” she explained taking the top drawing from my hand and sighed looking at them.

“We felt terrible for taking Gee away from you, but we felt it was the best.”

If any doubt had made its way into my mind, it was now gone. Hearing the nickname from her only proved that I was right. Somehow Gerard had been around before and I was the only one who had seen him.

Collecting the drawings I stood abruptly, almost knocking the chair back on the ground. Looking at her one last time I didn’t know what to say. I was hurt, angry and still confused. Without one word I quickly left and went back to my room, throwing them on my bed once again.

“Jesus Christ,” I groaned rubbing at my eyes, pacing at the foot of my bed.

She said that I had talked about an older boy. How old? It was hard to tell from my drawings, everyone looked the same. Minus the fact that I had drawn him much taller than me which was a given. The way he would disappear so quickly in the school halls, how he seemed to know what I was thinking. Then there was the part about me being the only one who could see him when I was younger. How was that even possible?

That was the only part that scared me. There was no way some normal person could do what he had done. Looking back to the mess on my bed I collected them in a stack, unsure of what I should do with them I shoved them underneath my bed before taking one off the top and folded it, placing it in my pocket.

I glanced at my clock to see that it was only after eight, not too late. I had to sneak out this time around; I knew Mom would only get curious if I asked to leave. Especially after that little confession of hers earlier.

It was colder, a lot colder. I hugged my thing jacket to my body and I set after his house, grateful that it was close. The entire way there the drawing felt like a ten pound weight, with every step I could feel it pressed against my side. I began to think I was crazy again. I was nervous about how Gerard would react, if he would even react.

Stepping up I wracked my knuckles against the door and waited. Not even ten seconds later it squeaked as the doorknob turned and the wood rubbed against its frame, revealing Mikey.
“Frank?” his tone showing that he hadn’t been expecting me.

“I need to talk to him,” I stated and he frowned.

“Gerard?”

“Well yeah unless you have another Brother hidden in there,” I grumbled sourly.

“He’s not here, Frank. I’m sorry... was it important? I could tell him to call you or something when he gets home.”

“Of course he’s not here... just fuck it. Thanks though,” I groaned the cold not helping my mood.

I can’t believe I had already forgotten that he had left me down in his room only a few hours ago. I had worked myself up so much over a damn drawing that I had walked out in the cold for nothing.

“Frank, what’s wrong? Look you can come in, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Just give him this will you?” I pulled out the folded up drawing and shoved it towards him.

“Okay?” he asked warily taking it from me.

“Thanks,” I muttered turning on my heel and stepped off their porch and trekked in the dry and freezing air back to my house.

Sighing I shut my door and groaned banging my forehead on it. Leave it to me to end up in some crazy web. Turning around I fell back into the wall and reached over with a lazy hand to flick on the light. Looking over at my bed I saw something laying on it. It was small.... white, and folded.

“What the hell?” I walked over and picked it up.

Staring at it for only a moment I unfolded it to see the same drawing that I had just left with Mikey.

“Okay... what the fuck?” I asked to the empty room.

“Well, do you or don’t you remember?” a voice asked causing me to jump.

“What the fuck?!” I shouted seeing him sitting against my wall like he did at school.

He watched me curiously, his leather jacket folded neatly beside him. A cigarette placed between his fingers as he pressed it to his lips.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

Curiosity turned to amusement but it never showed anywhere other than his eyes, “its called a door Frank. I used two of them, just like you did. That is unless you crawl through windows.”

“My Mom just let you waltz right in then, huh?” I inquired on edge.

“She never even had a clue someone was in the house with her. As a matter of fact, she had no idea you’d even left,” he sighed taking another drag.

“Yeah until she smells that, dammit you know I hate cigarettes,” I stomped over to him and tore it from his grasp before stubbing it out against my windowsill.

“What the hell is this, Gerard?” I snapped shoving the poorly drawn picture in his face.

“If you don’t want your Mom to know I’m here and start all this crap over again then I suggest you lower the tone, Frank.” he instructed evenly.

“Why the hell was I imagining you when I was a little kid?” I asked with just as much edge but in a quieter voice.

He glanced from the paper to me only a few times before standing up. With a sigh he fluidly pulled on his jacket and went to walk by me.

“Where the hell are you going?” I snapped gripping his arm and tugged back on it.

“You don’t remember, I told you that you had to. Finding old drawings doesn’t constitute as remembering Frank,” he explained.

“How the hell am I supposed to remember? My parents had a fucking therapist block off those memories. If it wasn’t for these fucking drawings I’d no idea that I had blank spots in my memory Gerard. This isn’t fair!” I yelled.

I never even saw him turn around before it felt like I’d had my feet knocked out from underneath of me and was suddenly pinned to my wall. So shocked I couldn’t even form words as his eyes bore into mine.

“You’re angry and I understand. But why you’re angry with me I have no clue. You have no reason to be angry with me, Frank. I’m not the one at fault, its your parents. Now you need to calm down or else I will leave and when I say leave, I mean leave. Do you understand?” all I could do was nod as the pressure he forced disappeared.

“Now, I’ll answer your questions. Don’t get upset with me if you don’t like the answers because all I’m going to do is tell you the truth.”

Nodding again he backed away and moved to sit on my windowsill, reaching into his pocket he pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lighter.

“What did I tell you?” I groaned pointing an accusing finger.

“Your Mom won’t smell them, trust me,” he stated lighting one and placed it between his lips.

“Then can I at least close my window? Its freezing you know,” I grumbled feeling the air blow in.

He looked behind him, before back to me. With his free hands he shrugged off his jacket and motioned for me to come to him.

“It might not harm me, but it’ll harm you,” he explained handing me his jacket.

“Or you could you know… just not smoke,” I countered but pulled the jacket on nonetheless.

I was surprised by how warm it already was and thanked him quietly.

“So Frank, what do you want to know?”