Tell Me I'm A Bad Man

Memories of Runaways

As I stepped though the doorway to the CD store down the street from my apartment, I heard the familiar sound of the bell above the door ringing softly. I looked around the store, but I didn’t see anybody. I figured that the employees were in the back or something. So I walked over to the rock section which was practically my home away from home.
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Let me introduce myself. The name’s Way. Michael James Way. People just call me Mikey, though. I live in an apartment in New Jersey. I love rock music, and I play the bass. I was going to be in a band with my brother, Gerard, but then he disappeared four years ago.

I remember the day he left pretty clearly. He had still been living in our parents’ basement, and I had stayed the night there because it was Christmas Eve. We went to bed at about two o’clock in the morning, me sleeping on the couch in his basement bedroom, but we kept talking until almost four. At one point, Gerard had told me he wanted to get out. I told him he could come live with me, but he said no. “I have to grow up, Mikey,” he had said to me in the dark, musty smelling room. I heard him sigh as he rolled over to face the wall. “I just have to figure my life out, that’s all,” he had said.

That was the last I ever talked to him. When I had woken up the next morning, Gerard wasn’t there. I had gone upstairs, to see if he was up there, but he wasn’t. Under the Christmas tree, I saw a folded piece of paper that said “Michael” on it. I picked it up and took it with me to the kitchen to go get some coffee. Once I had poured myself a mug of coffee, I sat at the kitchen table to read the letter. I unfolded the piece of paper and saw a short note scrawled in my brother’s handwriting.

Dear Mikey,
Yes, I know its Christmas, and this is sort of sudden. But it’s something I have to do. I told you yesterday that I need to get out of there, possibly out of New Jersey altogether. I have nothing against you, or Mom and Dad. I don’t know where I’m going, or when I’ll be back, but I’ll see you again eventually. Tell Mom and Dad that I’m sorry.
Love ya, little bro,
Gee


Just as I had finished reading it, my parents came down. They asked me where Gerard was, and I didn’t know what to say. When my mother saw me trying to hide the piece of paper, she took it from me and read it. “Why did he do this, Mikey?” she asked me, her voice quiet and unstable. Yeah. Because I really know.

“Well,” I said, trying to remember exactly what Gerard had told me. “Umm, he said he wanted to go away somewhere because he needs to grow up and figure stuff out.”
I had turned away from them so I wouldn’t have to see their reactions. I heard my mother start crying as my father hugged her. Why does Gerard always have to do this? I thought to myself. A part of me wanted to go find him and bring him back. I mean, how far could he have gotten? He didn’t even have a car. But a part of me never wanted to see him again because of what he just did to our family.

Most of the rest of the day my parents and I just sat in silence. As it started getting dark, I decided to go back to my apartment. I went down to the basement and packed up all my stuff. When I picked up my keys, I noticed one of them was missing. I started digging through all my stuff to find it, and I saw a note fall out of my glasses case. I hadn’t noticed it before, and I opened it then. It was written in Gerard’s handwriting, and I dreaded reading it. But then my curiosity got the best of me, and I read it.

By the way, I had to borrow your car. Don’t worry though; I’ll buy you a new one when I get back.

“Huh?!” I screamed as I let the note flutter though my fingers to the floor. I ran upstairs and outside to the street where my car had been parked. My parents came outside to find out what I was doing outside with no coat or shoes on. I couldn’t really think of anything to say, I mean, what do you really do when your brother stole your car and ran away in it?

My parents were just looking at me standing where my car had been with looks of confusion. “He took it!” I screamed, trying to hold back tears of frustration. “He stole my car, and now I’m screwed!” I threw myself down on the frozen ground. See, I’m kind of an emo, and it’s hard for me to express some emotions. So I just lay on the ground, shivering and wishing I could find my brother so I could punch him in the face. I wasn’t used to feeling like this, because generally, I’m not a violent person. I just promised myself, right there on the frozen grass of my parents’ front yard that I would make Gerard pay. Before I found out that he stole my car, I had missed him. But now, I hate him.