Saving Grace

I was breaking every single rule that had ever been drilled into my head from the day I finally got my wings.

I was probably going to end up getting my wings removed because of this.

But seeing him so helpless on the bathroom floor made me hurt.

Gerard Way, the lead singer of My Chemical Romance, was the person who I was looking out for. His past guardian angels had moved on to bigger, better things, and so I was assigned him. I floated along with him, making sure that he didn’t get into too much trouble, and silently guiding him as best I could.

First day on the job, I realized he was an alcoholic who was addicted to all the meds he was on, and that he’d been suicidal. I also learned he was incredibly stubborn.

Lucky me, my first assignment was impossible.

Three months I managed to stand by him and do as best I could to keep him away from the liquor and the drugs. But when there’s a physical dependency, there’s not much one can do.

And so today, the third month anniversary of my first day on the job, I appeared to him.

“What the fuck?” he spit out between bouts of vomiting.

“Shh, Gee, it’s okay.”

“How the fuck do you know my name?”

“I’m your guardian angel,” I told him, placing my hand on his back as he turned to face the toilet. “I’m here to help you.”

“How fucking drunk am I?”

I chuckled quietly. “Very, Gerard. But you’re not imagining things. I’m not a hallucination. I’m very real and very here.”

“Why?” He coughed a bit, and I pulled his longish black hair out of his pallid face.

“You’re endangering your life. And do you know how much you mean to people? There would be legions of your fans crying, and not to mention, Frank, Bob, Ray… they’d be broken men. Mikey would be torn apart, and your family would find it incredibly hard to recover. You’re leading a dangerous life, Gerard Arthur, and I don’t want to see you hurt anyone – especially yourself.”

“Whaddoo… whaddoo I do?” he asked, slurring his speech. He was done vomiting for now, it seemed, so I helped him to his bunk. I covered him up and made sure he was comfortable.

“Stop. Tell the band you don’t want alcohol near you anymore. Get rid of the pills – you don’t need the antidepressants anymore; you know it’s true.” I stroked his hair gently and smiled. “Sleep, Gerard.” Pressing a quick kiss to his forehead, I disappeared and, invisible, watched him fall into a deep sleep.

When the sun broke through the curtains of his bunk, he stirred slightly. I could tell by his grimace that he had a hangover from hell, but he slowly sat up and groaned as it worsened. I could hear the boys playing video games out in the main area of the tour bus, and I heard the gurgling of a coffee pot that signaled that Mikey was up.

He crawled out to the fridge, muttering “good morning” to Bob, Ray, and an already-hyperactive Frank. Mikey was leaning against the counter, casually flicking through a magazine, his glasses sliding slowly down his nose. He looked up at his brother, pushed his glasses back up, and put down the magazine.

“You look like hell, Gee,” he said honestly.

“Get this fucking shit out of here,” Gerard said in response, grabbing all the beers out of the fridge and shoving them into Mikey’s unsuspecting arms. He reached up into the cabinet next to the fridge and grabbed three little pill bottles. Tossing those in Mikey’s arms, he coughed. “C’mon, Mikey. Get it out of my fucking face.”

“Gerard, are you seriously gonna trash all the beer?” Ray said, peeking away from the TV and ignoring the bongo set in his lap. Bob, seated next to him, kept bashing away, laughing.

“Guys, some crazy shit happened last night.” He reached into the cabinet, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. “This really pretty angel came and talked to me while I was throwing up.”

“Are you alright?” Mikey pressed a hand to his brother’s forehead, concern creasing his young face.

“I’m fine. But seriously. This angel – she was gorgeous. Long brown hair, really pale skin, and these beautiful brown eyes. Her wings, they were massive!” he said enthusiastically, waving his arms out to show their size and sloshing water all over the floor. Mikey looked at it with a grimace, knowing he would have to mop it up, then returned his attention to his animated brother. All the other band members were now watching him intently, the video game forgotten and Frank’s hyperactivity calmed for a moment as he mindlessly shoved Skittles into his mouth by the handful, his eyes set on Gerard.

“And, like, her fucking voice was so pretty! But she told me, listen to this, she told me that I knew I didn’t need that shit anymore.” He gestured to the pills. “And that I could drop drinking cold-turkey and you guys would be super supportive and that if I didn’t, I’d end up dead or somethin’ like that.” There was now a huge smile on his face. “So I’m done. I’m just done with it.”

“Like that?” asked a skeptical Ray from the sofa.

“Like that,” Gerard replied with a laugh. “You guys gonna support me?”

Mikey dropped the stuff in the trash and tackle-hugged his older brother. “Of course. Gerard, god, I’m so happy you’re doing this. I was worried sick about you, man.”

Frank jumped up, his Skittles flying everywhere, and joined in the hug. “You know we’d always support you – especially with something like this.”

Ray and Bob nodded. “Dude, we’re behind you one hundred percent,” Bob said. “It’s awesome that you’re gonna do it.”

I floated back up to Heaven, where St. Peter was waiting at the gates, his arms crossed. “You exposed yourself to your protectorate, didn’t you?” he asked in a stern voice. I nodded and moved past him.

The head angel – my boss, if you wanna talk about it in Earthly terms – shook her head when she talked to me. “Violet, what you did was against the rules…”

“I know, but come on! I saved his life!”

The intercom speaker on her desk crackled. “Ethel, do you have Violet there?” God’s deep voice asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Tell her that today Gerard Way prayed. For the first time in his life, he prayed to me in thanks for her. Don’t remove her wings – send her back.”

The look on her face was priceless.

As I floated back down to watch over Gerard – sound check time, now – I noticed he looked a little sick but he looked happier. And as he went through withdrawal, I knew that his bandmates would be there for him.

I situated myself on top of the stack of amps near Frank and Mikey and listened in on Gerard’s thoughts for a moment, between songs.

God, thank you for my saving grace. I dunno who she was, but thanks.