Coffee and Cigarettes

It suddenly felt as if my stomach was slowly making its way up my esophagus as my throat started to close up. It felt as if I was choking on thin air and I thought that I was going to faint.

After a minute, I whimpered, "G-Gerard? He did this to us?"

Bob remained silent and averted his gaze nervously.

"Hey," Blair said, taking a seat next to me and pushing me down onto my bed softly. "At least you're alive. That's all we can ask for...right?"

"And Cara's still alive too," Libby added. "She's just sleeping. Right?"

I was ignoring every word they had said. I was too preoccupied with thoughts of Gerard wrapping his lips around yet another bottle of vodka before carelessly stepping into his silver Subaru XT and driving off into the night.

My emotions went sporadically from sadness to anger and I could no longer contain myself. I shot up and sat upright. "Where's Gerard right now?"

"He's down the hall," Libby said cautiously. "Why?"

Without giving her an answer, I found the strength in my legs to rise from my bed, wearing pajama pants and a hospital shirt, and running down the hallway to wherever Gerard was.

I finally saw him sitting upright in his hospital bed, staring out the window. He heard my footsteps crossing the threshold into his room and he looked over at me.

"...Hi," he finally croaked.

"Why?" was all I asked him.

"Why what?"

Hot tears rolled down my face. "Why, Gerard? Why would you? You know that you have a problem, why did you let it persist? Because of your addiction to alcohol, one of my best friends is in a coma!"

"I don't have an alcohol problem," he grumbled. I stomped over to him and slapped him right across the face.

"Look at where you are, Gerard!" I screamed. "Look at you right now. Why do you have that cast on your left hand? Why do I have this cast on mine? Why are we both in a hospital, huh? And why hasn't my friend Cara woken up yet?"

Gerard's eyes were full of regret and sadness, but he still looked angry on the outside.

"Why did you do it, Gerard?" I whimpered, collapsing onto the floor, bawling my eyes out. "Why?"

I heard him sigh and he reached out and gently held my hand. "I was going to pick up Frank at the party," he explained. "I'd gotten hammered earlier and when Frankie called, I figured I might as well since Mikey was on a date and Bob and Ray were out at the movies..."

"You should've said no," I said, furiously wiping away the tears. "You should've told Frank to stay the night at the house. What happens if Cara doesn't wake up, Gerard? What if she dies in that hospital bed at the age of sixteen?"

A small tear tumbled from his hazel eyes. "I'm so sorry, Morgan," he whispered. "You have no idea..."

I stared up at him and said, "Gerard, promise me that you'll get help."

He looked away.

"Gerard, please..." my voice wavered slightly. "Look where alcohol has gotten you...please, promise me that you'll at least try to be sober."

He gave my hand a slight squeeze. "Alright," he said. "I promise."
-----------
"Hey," Ryder waved his hand in front of my face at lunch the Wednesday after the party. I had been unusually quiet and simply nodded my head at him in response. "How are you feeling today?"

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess," I mumbled, picking apart my salad.

Ryder sighed and looked at his lunch without touching it. "I'm scared for her, Morgan."

"I know," I replied. "I just keep thinking that if Gerard hadn't been drinking that night, Cara would still be okay. We never should've went to the party..."

Ryder sighed and looked at my arm that was wrapped up in a cast, placed neatly in a sling that went up and around my neck. "How's the arm?"

"Fine," I said. "How's the wrist?"

"Better," he said. We sat quietly for the rest of the lunch period, neither of us really touching our food. I suppose that the thought of trying to be happy and acting as if everything was normal wasn't really an option when one of our best friends was unconscious in the hospital.

It had been five days and she still hadn't woken up. My parents told me to just give it time and that she would eventually pull through, and the doctors told me that her condition was stabilizing...but still, I couldn't help but feel as if we'd need a miracle to help her wake up.

The rest of the school day went by rather slowly. People kept bumping into me in the hallways, staring at my broken arm as if I'd grown another limb. I always kept my eyes on the clock, unaware or maybe just not caring what the teacher had to say. A few of them actually smacked the front of my desk with their rulers in order to regain (or so they thought) my attention.

"Morgan, your mind has to stop wandering!" they'd say. I'd just nod and as soon as their backs were turned, my eyes would just wander right back to the clock as the seconds slowly ticked away.

At last, the final bell rang and I bolted out of the classroom and then out of the building. I was about to run right down the street when I noticed a familiar figure leaning casually against a nearby tree, cigarette hanging loosely between his lips.

"Frank?" I called out. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, taking a drag before tossing the cigarette down and stomping it out with the heel of his shoe. "Wanted to apologize, I guess?"

"You guess?" I scoffed. "Just how drunk were you at that party?"

"Not as drunk as Gerard," he said, meaning it as a joke.

Tears started to well up in my eyes and I glared harshly at him. "It's not funny," I growled. "Because of his alcoholism, I broke my arm and my friend Cara is in a fucking coma."

Frank sighed and looked down at the ground. "I know," he said solemnly, scratching at the back of his head. "And...I know that I haven't been the nicest person to you lately, and I may have been completely hammered at that party on Friday, but I meant what I said. I love you, Morgan."

I just stared at him, completely in shock. "Frank..." I said softly. "I'm not sure that either of us knows what love really is."

"Well," he began. "Isn't love when you really care about someone and you adore every little quirk about them, good or bad?" He walked over to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I stayed motionless in his grasp.

"Frank..." I started to say, but I was abruptly cut off my Frank gently kissing me on the lips. I didn't kiss him back, but I don't think that he really cared. This kiss was soft and loving--much different from the one he'd bestowed upon me in his drunken state.

He pulled away and leaned his forehead against mine. I stared into his beautiful hazel eyes and a small whimper escaped my lips.

I buried my face into the crook of his neck as I cried for all that had happened lately--for Blair, for Libby's parents, for Cara, for Gerard, and even for myself.

And throughout the entire time, Frank held me close to his heart, the rhythmic beating soothing my senses...but just slightly.